Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 121

Alpha Enzo's POV

I sat behind my desk, my eyes fixed on the endless streams of data glowing across the monitors in front of me. The headquarters was quieter than usual, but I had long since trained myself to live within silence. I thrived in it. Silence never betrayed. Silence never plotted behind one’s back. Silence was loyal, unlike wolves who spoke with smiling mouths but bore daggers behind their teeth.

The security updates had just come in from the border patrols. I scrolled through them with a meticulous eye. No rogue activity had been spotted within the last forty-eight hours, but I didn’t trust it. The absence of noise in this world didn’t mean peace—it meant that danger was plotting, waiting for the right opening. I knew that lesson far too well. The reports from the eastern boundary showed some irregular shifts in scent trails. Whoever thought they could slither unnoticed near my land clearly underestimated me.

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath through my nose as my fingers tapped against the mahogany surface of the desk. I was halfway through drafting orders for patrol reinforcements when I caught the faint creak of the door opening.

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Ash’s scent had long become something I could recognize from across a battlefield—sharp, crisp, tinged with iron and smoke. She stepped in with the same confidence she always carried, though today there was a heaviness in the air around her that made me lift my gaze.

Her auburn hair was tied back neatly, and in her hand, she held a single ivory envelope sealed with a red crest. She crossed the room with a purposeful stride, dropping it lightly on the desk between me and the monitors.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Ash folded her arms. “An invitation.”

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I don’t accept invitations. Whoever sent it should already know better.”

“You’ll want to see this one,” she said evenly.

I studied her for a moment, then dragged the envelope closer. The wax seal was unmistakable—Rowland’s crest on one side, and Baron’s on the other. A joint seal. My jaw tightened. I broke it open and scanned the contents quickly.

They had decided to merge the late Alpha Rowland’s pack with Baron’s. As if one could stitch two broken halves together and call it whole. My eyes skimmed the lines until they landed on the names written in bold.

Bryan. Irene.

I set the paper down slowly, deliberately, as if it might burn through my desk if I held onto it for too long. They were to be crowned Alpha and Luna of the newly merged pack. A coronation. And of course, the so-called council wanted me present.

“They must be desperate,” I muttered, my tone sharp. “To think I’d waste my time attending their charade.”

Ash tilted her head, watching me carefully. “So you’re not going?”

“No.” My answer was clipped, final. I leaned back into my chair, the leather groaning beneath me. “I have no interest in playing their dirty little games. Baron has always wanted to expand his influence, and now Rowland’s death has given him the perfect excuse. A merger under his control, with two children propped up like pawns on a throne. If they think I’ll lend my presence to legitimize it, they’re mistaken.”

Ash’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t back down. “It isn’t about legitimizing them, Enzo.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Duty,” she replied firmly. Her gaze didn’t waver. “Like it or not, you’re an Alpha with higher rank. Your absence won’t weaken them—it’ll weaken you. It will look like you’re too proud to show up, or worse, that you’re avoiding responsibility. The council may be desperate, yes, but the other packs are watching too. They’re waiting to see how you move, how you handle yourself.”

I gave a low growl, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest. “You think I care how the others see me?”

“I think you care more than you admit,” Ash said softly.

Her words dug into me, sharp and irritating because they carried truth. I hated the politics of our kind, the endless games of dominance disguised as diplomacy. But I also knew appearances carried weight. A single absence could be interpreted as weakness, and weakness was a disease that spread quickly.

I sat in silence for a long while, staring at the letter as if my glare alone might reduce it to ash. Ash didn’t move, didn’t breathe a word more, simply waited. That was the thing about her—she never pushed, just placed the truth before me and allowed me to decide if I wanted to swallow it or choke on it.

Finally, I exhaled, long and heavy. “You’re saying I should go.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Not because of them. Not because of Baron or Bryan or anyone else. Go because you are Enzo. You are Alpha. You don’t bend for their games, you stand above them. That’s the only way to remind them whose shadow they truly live under.”

Her conviction was steady, grounding. I rubbed a hand across my jaw, the decision twisting inside me like a knife before I finally let it settle.

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll attend. But don’t mistake my presence for support. I will not be their tool.”

Ash nodded once, a small victorious glint in her eyes, though her expression stayed measured. “That’s all I ask.”

I set the letter aside, already dreading the hours of pomp and falseness that awaited me. My mind drifted to the weightier matters at hand, the ones that truly mattered—security, loyalty, survival. Politics could rot for all I cared.

But Ash was right. For the sake of the pack, for the sake of maintaining what I had built, I would endure it.

I dismissed her with a wave of my hand, and she bowed her head slightly before turning and leaving the office. The room fell into silence again, though now it felt heavier.

I turned back to the monitors, but the words and numbers blurred together. My focus slipped, my thoughts drawn elsewhere. After a few moments, I pushed back from the desk and stood. I needed something else to clear the unrest clawing at me.

My steps carried me down the hall toward the wing where Lisa stayed. I hadn’t checked on her since morning, and though I trusted she was safe, a restless part of me wanted to see for myself.

The door to her room was slightly ajar. I pushed it open quietly, and the sound of laughter drifted out to me. Warm, genuine laughter. It was such a rare thing in these walls that I paused for a moment just to listen.

Inside, Lisa sat on her bed, her blonde hair spilling down her shoulders. Across from her, on the floor, sat Calls and Kael. They had baskets of colorful threads and fabrics spread out before them, their fingers weaving with nimble precision. Whatever they were making, it had Lisa enraptured, her eyes wide with fascination as she giggled at something Calls said.

The sight tugged at me unexpectedly. There was a softness here, a small corner of peace carved out against the weight of the world outside.

I stepped inside, and Lisa looked up immediately. “Enzo!” Her face brightened, and she set down the piece of fabric she’d been holding. “Look what they’re teaching me.”

She scrambled off the bed and tugged me closer to where the women sat. Calls glanced up, her lips curving into a smile, while Kael gave me a respectful nod.

“They’re showing me how to weave patterns,” Lisa explained eagerly, holding up a strip of cloth with uneven but colorful stitching. “I’m not very good at it yet, but it’s fun. Look.”

She placed the fabric into my hand. The lines were crooked, the colors clashing, but it was vibrant, full of life. I stared at it longer than I meant to before setting it down carefully.

“You’re learning quickly,” I said, my voice softer than I intended.

Lisa beamed, clearly pleased with the praise. She darted back to sit between Calls and Kael, who both resumed weaving with patient smiles.

I stood there for a while, just watching. Their hands moved gracefully, threads crossing and binding, creating something from nothing. It was a skill that required patience, dedication—things that felt foreign to me in the face of endless battles and blood. Yet here, in this room, those small, simple acts felt heavier than any crown or council meeting.

For the first time in hours, my chest eased.

I didn’t join them, not really. That wasn’t who I was. But I stayed, leaning against the wall, allowing myself to absorb the sound of Lisa’s laughter and the quiet concentration of the two women weaving at her side.

And for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to imagine that this—this ordinary peace—was something I could protect, no matter how dirty the games of the outside world became.