The Triplet Alpha's Disguised Mate

ZURI

Today I’m 18 years old and instead of stuffing my face with cakes and treats, I decided to trade that for a black eye and a split lip. Perfect.

“Again!” I barked, circling my opponent, a burly warrior twice my size and half my intelligence.

Kevi grinned through bloodied teeth. “You sure, birthday girl?”

I jabbed him in the ribs. “Stop calling me that and fight.”

I preferred it here, among sweat and bruises, where I didn’t have to smile or curtsy or think about the future being handed off like a poisoned drink in a silver goblet. I ducked, swept Kevi’s legs, and sent him flat on his back with a satisfying thud. I quickly straddled him.

“Dead,” I declared, placing a hand on his chest, extending my claws to his neck.

The small crowd laughed. I extended a hand to help him up, but the moment was ruined by the shrill, icy voice that froze blood faster than any rogue bite.

“Zuri Yiva Elowen!”

My mother stood at the edge of the pit, looking as if she'd just walked in on someone defiling an altar. Dressed in silks and jewels, Luna Eloise held herself like royalty and disapproval in equal measure.

“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed. “Fighting? On the day of your betrothal ceremony?”

That word hit me harder than any jab could. Betrothal. A gilded cage dressed up as destiny. I would rather drink poison than say it.

Fallon, my wolf, stirred inside me, her voice a low rumble in my mind. “It might not be the curse you think. A mate could unlock what we need. Power. Unity. A real chance to defend the pack.

“Defend them from him?” I asked. “From the very monster they’re giving us to?”

She didn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t want to. I never met Alpha Torin, but the stories about him were too gruesome to make up. He showed no mercy in any aspect of his life. Once he beheaded a servant for spilling wine on his table. No wonder he was 35 and mateless. If I was his mate, I would run like hell. I would rather become a rogue than be stuck with a tyrant. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my choice to make, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t show how unhappy it made me.

“Technically, it’s still my birthday, so I can fight if I want to.”

My mother ignored the joke. “What if Alpha Torin had arrived early? What would he have thought, seeing his bride rolling around in the dirt like a common mongrel?”

“Hopefully,” I said dryly, “that she’s not someone he can push around.”

Luna Eloise’s jaw tightened. “A woman’s strength is in her grace, not her fists.”

“Tell that to my opponents.”

My mother grabbed my arm. “Enough of your wit. Come. We have barely an hour to make you look presentable.” I tried to resist, but my mother’s grip was deceptively strong. “Do not fight me on this. You will do this. You will wear the dress. You will smile. And you will remember that your father’s decision is final. We need this alliance.”

My voice dropped. “No, he needs this alliance. I just happen to be the sacrifice.”

My mother’s fingers curled tighter. “That’s enough. We are not having one of your episodes today. A woman’s duty is to serve her pack, not challenge her Alpha.”

I yanked my arm free. “Maybe if more women challenged their Alphas, we wouldn’t be parading girls in front of bloodthirsty tyrants like it's mating season at a meat market.”

There was a moment of silence–thick, tense, and glorious. Even the wind seemed to pause in disbelief.

My mother rubbed her temples, mumbling under her breath. “I told your father not to let you read all those books and watch the warriors train.” She turned to me. “We’ll talk about your attitude later. Right now, you’re going to bathe, wear what I’ve laid out, and behave.”

I snorted. “If that dress is pink and covered in bows, I’m setting it on fire.”

My mother turned on her heel. “You’ll do what’s expected.”

And like that, my morning of sparring and control was ripped away, replaced with lace and expectations. They bathed me like I was being prepared for burial. In a way, I did feel like this was more of a funeral. Death of the free-thinking, weapon wielding Zuri, and birth to a subservient breeding machine.

At my mother’s bequest, the attendants scrubbed and fussed, pulling my hair too tight, muttering about bruises that were taking time to heal. As if bruises were something to be ashamed of. I had earned every one of them. I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing myself.

My skin, a deep, rich brown, glowed under the layers of oils and shimmer my mother insisted made me look more ‘womanly’ and “presentable.” My afro had been twisted into an intricate crown of curls adorned with thin silver cuffs–elegant, regal, and suffocating. The dress shimmered like wet onyx, flowing over the curves of my thick thighs and flaring subtly at the bottom. It was beautiful. And it wasn’t me.

“Stunning,” my mother said, beaming like she’d won something. “Alpha Torin won’t know what hit him.”

“I pray it’s a sword,” I muttered.

My mother ignored me and adjusted a gold chain resting just above my collarbone, the pendant shaped like our pack’s crest. A symbol of loyalty. Of legacy. Of a leash.

“I know you don’t like this,” my mother said, voice soft for the first time that day. “But you look the part. That matters.”

My mother looked at me through the mirror. A hesitation not only in her eyes, but her hands that seemed to be trembling. “Just remember this is good for the pack.”

A bell rang from the courtyard–long, low, and ceremonial.

“He’s here,” my mother whispered, her hand lingering at my shoulder like a brand.

I turned away from the mirror.

Let the show begin.The gathering crowd fell silent as Alpha Torin’s caravan rolled in–black carriages pulled by monstrous white-furred beasts with too many teeth and not enough leash. His guards dismounted first, armor clanking, eyes cold. And then Torin emerged. He was…

“Gorgeous,” both Fallon and I said at the same time. I quickly massaged away the burning in my cheeks before I gave myself away.

He was tall, handsome in a “he’s definitely killed someone for sneezing” kind of way. His hair was long and silver, like his blood had been born already dead. He was draped in black leather and a wolf pelt that still had the eyes attached. Subtle. He smiled, and the crowd exhaled in relief. No one died. Yet.

I couldn’t help but admire the way he held himself as he moved towards. The power, the aura. I would gush if it was in my character.

“He’s strong,” Fallon murmured. “He could make us stronger.”

“He could make us dead.” I shot back. “You think mating with a psychopath is some kind of ascension?”

“I think it’s survival,” she said. “He could be the key to unlocking what we are. What we’re meant to be.”

“By chaining us to him?”

“Not a chain,” Fallon replied softly. “A bond. And it’s already starting.”

My stomach twisted. Not from fear, not from hate–but something worse. Something almost like hope.

“You want him,” I realized. “You actually want this.”

“I want strength,” she growled. “I want to protect what matters. You want to burn everything down, but ashes won’t save our people.”

“Neither will kneeling.”

Fallon went quiet, but I could feel her watching. Waiting. My father greeted him in haste and the way his eyes swept over was like that of a predator looking down on his prey. Then he looked at me.

His face lit up. Not with kindness–there was something more… possessive in the way his gaze slid over me. Like I was already his.

“Lady Zuri,” he called out in that low, theatrical voice that made bards swoon and enemies evacuate their bowels. “You are more radiant than I imagined.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood. “I clean up once a year.”

“Zuri,” both my father and mother warned.

Torin chuckled. “And happy birthday as well.” He reached down to place a kiss on my hand. Was that tongue?

I stared at him, unsure if I was supposed to curtsy, bow, or just start screaming. I opted for a stiff nod.

“I come bearing gifts,” he said, stepping aside with a flourish.

That’s when I saw them. Three rogues–ragged, bound, and bloodied–dragged forward by Torin’s men. One was limping. One had a fresh wound across his face. The third… a woman, looked barely conscious… and very pregnant.

My breath caught. My blood turned to ice.

Torin motioned to them with a smile, like he was presenting rare wines or a new set of hunting dogs.

“They were caught trespassing on the way here. I thought it fitting to give you something meaningful.”

He drew his sword.

I spoke before I could stop myself. “You’re gifting me executions?!”