Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 145

Irene's POV

I had barely settled myself when Ash leaned forward, his voice clipped but courteous as he said, “Irene, if you don’t mind, I think it’s best you excuse us for now. This isn’t really a Luna’s matter.”

I caught the faintest strain in his words, as though he was weighing each syllable carefully to avoid offense, but the implication was sharp enough. My presence wasn’t required. My thoughts, my instincts, none of it mattered in that room filled with Alpha pride and decision-making.

I smiled politely, folding my hands in front of me as if I hadn’t been dismissed. But I had. Ash made sure of it, and Bryan didn’t correct him. My mate sat still, nodding in agreement, silently agreeing with Ash’s assessment. It stung, but I wouldn’t show that sting.

I rose smoothly, fixing my expression into the kind of calm serenity that always disarms people. “Of course,” I said, as if I had wanted to leave anyway. “I’ll take a look around. Perhaps I can get to know your pack better.”

Enzo gave me a small nod, distracted, already preparing to dive into whatever heavy matter Atlas and Bryan had brought. I left the meeting hall without a backward glance, my steps graceful, my demeanor composed.

The corridors stretched wide, the walls carved in dark polished wood, the banners of Enzo’s lineage hanging high. There was a kind of military order to his pack’s home, a sharp contrast to Bryan’s, where warmth and hospitality filled every stone archway. Here, discipline lingered in the air, in the eyes of the guards who bowed curtly as I passed, in the silence that seemed to hum beneath the surface.

I wandered leisurely, trailing my hand against the wall, studying every detail, as though the texture of another pack’s home could reveal their secrets. A few servants hurried past, nodding at me nervously. I barely acknowledged them, my gaze lifting to a large window that overlooked the training grounds.

And there she was.

Lisa.

The sight of her stirred something in me—sharp, unwelcome, but undeniable. Memories of her boldness, her insolence, the way she embarrassed me before others. It still burned. That insolent little thing who didn’t know her place.

She was carrying a basket of linens, her face slightly flushed from the sun, her movements quick but not elegant. She didn’t notice me at first, but I noticed her. Oh, I noticed everything.

A slow, cool smile curved my lips.

I waited until she passed close enough, then let my voice glide through the air, calm and clear. “Lisa.”

She froze, startled, then turned toward me, her eyes wide for a moment before she quickly lowered her head. “Luna Irene.”

I savored the title on her tongue. She said it correctly, as she should. Respectfully. But respect didn’t erase memory, and memory didn’t forgive insult.

I tilted my head, looking her over with calculated calmness. “You’ve been busy, I see. Still running around with baskets and chores?”

She nodded quickly, clutching the basket tighter. “Yes, Luna.”

“Good,” I said softly, as if approving, though my tone carried the faintest edge. I let the silence stretch a moment, watching her shift under my gaze. Then, almost idly, I added, “Get me a drink. Something cold.”

Her head snapped up slightly, her lips parting as though she wasn’t sure she heard me right. I arched one brow, a silent reminder of her place.

“Yes, Luna,” she said quickly.

I waved a hand dismissively. “No sugar. I detest sugar. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Luna.”

She set her basket aside against the wall, bowing slightly before she hurried off. I smiled faintly to myself, stepping closer to the window to watch the sun glint over the training fields. I wasn’t truly thirsty. That wasn’t the point.

The point was reminding her that embarrassment cuts both ways.

Minutes later, I heard the soft patter of her footsteps returning. She held a glass in both hands, carefully, as though it were precious. She extended it to me with lowered eyes.

I took it, letting my fingers brush the glass with deliberate slowness, and then I sniffed it lightly. “Did you taste it before bringing it to me?”

She blinked. “No, Luna.”

A cool hum left my lips. “You should have. What if someone tampered with it? What if someone poisoned me? You think I’d believe you didn’t notice?”

Her mouth opened slightly, panic flashing in her eyes. “I… I can get another one, Luna.”

I sipped it slowly, letting the water cool my tongue. Then I set the glass aside on the nearest ledge, unfinished. “This one will do. For now.”

She stood there awkwardly, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Why are you still standing here?” I asked softly, my tone still polite, still calm, yet sharp enough to slice through her hesitation.

“I—” she swallowed, “I thought you might need something else, Luna.”

I allowed the faintest smile. “You thought right. Bring me something light to eat. A fruit plate, perhaps. But no apples. And not too ripe. I can’t abide overripe fruit.”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, Luna.”

“And,” I added, just as she turned to leave, “don’t take too long. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

The way her shoulders stiffened made me feel a deep satisfaction. She left, and I lingered where I was, serene, calm, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

When she returned, she carried a tray with neatly sliced fruit. I didn’t bother to thank her; I simply glanced over it and picked up a piece of pear delicately. I bit into it, chewed slowly, and then set it back down.

“Too cold,” I murmured, pushing the tray slightly away.

Lisa hesitated. “Do you want me to get another one, Luna?”

“No,” I said, my voice soft but final. “Just take this away. It’s not worth eating.”

Her lips parted as though she might argue, but she caught herself quickly, bowing her head instead. She picked up the tray, retreating quietly.

I leaned back against the wall, watching her go. Calm, collected, utterly in control. Exactly where she should have always been—beneath my command.