Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 126

Alpha Enzo's POV

I could still hear the fading echo of drums, the joyous roars of wolves celebrating their new Alpha and Luna, and the satisfied murmur of dignitaries from neighboring packs. The coronation was done, the feast winding down, yet Alpha Baron intercepted me before I could mount Ash and leave for my own pack. His grizzled face carried a mixture of relief and desperation, though he tried to hide it behind the noble bearing of a retiring leader.

“Enzo,” he said in a low voice, reaching forward with a handshake, firm and deliberate. “Just a brief moment, if you’ll allow me.”

I studied him for a second. The old wolf was proud, but pride had been stripped back during the ceremony. His daughter-in-law Irene had apologized publicly, on her knees in front of her people, her voice trembling as she admitted she had wronged me out of grief. Baron had watched, standing tall beside Bryan, his son. Now, here he was again, face to face with me, the man his house once treated like an enemy.

I gave him a short nod. “Alright. Speak.”

He exhaled with something close to relief. His voice softened, but there was urgency threaded through it. “I wanted to thank you once more for your patience. For not using your power to crush us when you had every right to. Irene—” he paused, glancing toward the distant hall where his family mingled with guests, “—Irene has learned her lesson. She was consumed by grief, blinded, and I know her words could have jeopardized everything. Tonight, she has owned her mistake. But still, I feel compelled to ask you personally: do not let this stain the alliance between our packs. We are committed to fulfilling our dues—supplies, ammunition, reinforcements—everything we promised. You have my word.”

I looked at him, letting his words hang. His eyes flickered nervously, and I could see it—the underlying fear. Baron had ruled long, but he knew the tides of power had shifted. His pack could not afford to lose my favor. He needed the alliance not only for survival, but for his legacy. If I pulled away, the respect he fought so hard to keep in his territory would crumble in the shadow of my growing influence.

“You think I’d cut you off that easily?” I asked, my voice even.

Baron’s jaw tightened, then loosened. “No. But I would not forgive myself if I didn’t appeal to you directly. The future of my son’s reign depends on this. And for what Irene did—her words, her accusations—I take responsibility too. She is under my roof. If her actions caused insult, then the shame rests on me as well.”

It was rare to hear a wolf of his stature humble himself that way. I tilted my head slightly, watching the man before me. “I accepted her apology. Tonight made that clear. But let me be honest with you, Baron. If I ever see betrayal from her again—or from Bryan—you won’t get another chance. Your pack will provide the ammunition as promised. The dues will be paid on time. And you will stand beside me when the time comes to face our enemies. Are we clear?”

His shoulders straightened as though a weight had lifted. “Crystal clear.”

I held his gaze for a long moment before finally gripping his hand. His palm was calloused, his grip still strong despite his age. “Then we understand each other.”

Baron gave a single nod. “We do. Thank you, Enzo.”

I didn’t linger. I swung myself onto Ash’s broad back, the great beast’s scales glinting under the moonlight, and rode out from the celebration grounds. The night air tasted fresher as distance grew between me and the voices of revelers. My thoughts were steady, but not burdened. Baron’s plea had been expected, and though his humility was surprising, it changed nothing of what I already decided. The alliance would stand—because it served me. Nothing more.

By the time I reached my pack’s territory, the night had deepened. The gates opened for me at once, guards bowing as Ash strode past. The familiar scent of home surrounded me, grounding me. But the moment I stepped into my quarters, all thoughts of politics and alliances dissolved.

Because there she was.

Lisa.

She was curled on my bed, her small frame dwarfed by the wide mattress, her hair spilling like silk across the sheets. But the instant she sensed me, she sat up, her eyes wide, glowing with warmth that pierced through me more sharply than any blade.

“Enzo!”

Before I could say a word, she threw herself into my arms. The force of it made me laugh under my breath as I caught her, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. Her arms locked around my neck, her legs wrapping tightly around my waist.

“I missed you,” she breathed against my skin, her voice trembling, as if the days apart had been years. “So much. It felt like forever.”

I buried my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent that always undid me. “I wasn’t gone that long,” I murmured, though my chest ached with how true her words felt.

“It was long enough,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at me. Her eyes searched mine with that unguarded honesty she always carried. “I hate sleeping alone. I hate not knowing if you’re safe, or if you’re… if you’re thinking of me while you’re away.”

Her words struck deep, because I had thought of her. Too many times during the coronation. Even while Baron spoke to me. Even while Irene apologized. Lisa’s face lingered in my mind, softening edges that no one else could.

I kissed her, rough at first, then slower as I felt her sigh against me. Her body melted into mine, and I walked us both back toward the bed, refusing to let her go.

When I lowered her onto the sheets, she pulled me down with her, lips desperate, fingers tangled in my hair.

“Say it again,” she whispered between kisses. “Say you missed me too.”

“I missed you,” I growled against her mouth, pressing harder. “Every damn second.”

She smiled through the kiss, and it shattered something inside me.

The night swallowed us whole after that. Words dissolved into touches, into gasps, into the rhythm only the two of us knew. Her body arched beneath mine, answering me in every way, pulling me deeper into her until the world outside ceased to exist.

It wasn’t just lust—it was hunger, yes, but also the desperate need to remind myself she was here, alive, mine. Every time she whispered my name, every time her nails raked against my back, I anchored myself in her.

When we finally stilled, tangled in sweat and sheets, Lisa lay with her head on my chest, her breathing heavy but steady. Her fingers traced lazy patterns across my skin, grounding me further.

“I don’t care about the coronation,” she said softly. “I don’t care about alliances or packs or titles. I only care about you coming back to me. Always.”

Her words were quiet, but they roared inside me.

I kissed the top of her head, pulling her closer. “You’ll always have me, Lisa. No matter what comes.”

The night deepened, and I let her drift into sleep in my arms. But my eyes remained open for a long time, watching the ceiling, listening to the steady beat of her heart against me. For all the power plays and politics, for all the wars waiting beyond the horizon, this—her—was the one thing I couldn’t afford to lose.

And I wouldn’t.