Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 16

Lisa's pov

The gown on the bed didn’t look like it was meant for someone like me.

Soft silk, Emerald green. Laced sleeves and tiny diamonds at the collar.

I stared at it for a long time.

Was it a mistake? Was I meant to wear it? Was someone playing a cruel trick again?

Calla stood near the door with a tiny smile.

“It’s yours,” she said. “The Alpha sent it.”

I blinked.

Alpha?

As in Alpha Enzo?

Before I could question her further, she turned and walked away—like that answered everything.

I ran my fingers over the fabric once again.

It felt too clean. Too elegant. Too not me.

But I put it on anyway.

I slipped into the dress slowly, scared I’d ruin it before even getting to where I was supposed to be.

I barely recognised the girl in the mirror.

No, not a girl—an omega who looked like she belonged to someone.

Hair brushed, skin pale, but clean.

The dress made my dull skin look like it was kissed by moonlight.

Alivia stirred faintly in the back of my mind.

“She sees herself now…”

Her voice was soft—tired—but proud.

I took a deep breath and stepped out.

Calla was waiting with a warm shawl.

“We’ll visit the infirmary now,” she said simply.

I nodded, pulling the shawl around my shoulders. Even though it was warm out, I still felt cold.

Not from the weather—just… everything.

—

The infirmary was too quiet.

White walls. Sharp smells. A bed that looked too perfect.

The healer, a tall she-wolf named Mira, didn’t smile.

She examined me like I was a fragile glass doll waiting to break again.

She didn’t ask how I got the wounds.

She didn’t flinch at the bruises either.

Just hummed quietly to herself and scribbled on a board.

“You’ll need two weeks of bed rest,” she finally said.

I turned to her. “That long?”

“Your internal strain is deeper than the surface shows,” she replied. “And your wolf is barely clinging to its healing function.”

Alivia whimpered weakly in response, like she’d been caught limping.

“You’re lucky she hasn’t detached,” Mira added. “Most wolves under this level of abuse would’ve gone silent forever.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

Lucky?

Maybe.

Or maybe Alivia was just as stubborn as I was.

—

We were about to wrap up when the door opened.

I didn’t bother to turn at first, until I heard the soft grunt and caught the scent of training sweat mixed with fresh air.

Atlas.

The guy I bumped into yesterday.

His presence filled the room like he didn’t need to speak.

Just tall and quiet, with eyes that missed nothing.

He didn’t speak to me.

He simply walked to the corner, picked up a jar labelled with his name, and was about to turn when he paused.

His eyes flicked to Mira.

Then to me.

Then back to Mira.

“She’s on bedrest?” he asked, voice deep but unreadable.

“She needs it,” Mira replied.

He didn’t argue.

Didn’t question it.

He pulled a pen from the counter and signed something on the chart beside her desk.

Then he looked at me.

“Take the rest,” he said calmly. “That’s an order.”

I blinked.

Wait… what?

“I—I can’t—”

He didn’t wait for my protests.

Atlas turned and walked out.

Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Like it wasn’t the first time someone had told me to rest without calling me lazy or ungrateful.

I just sat there, frozen, as Mira packed up her things.

“Do I owe him something now?” I asked quietly, still staring at the door.

Calla smiled beside me.

“No,” she said. “That’s not how this pack works.”

I didn’t realise I’d been holding my breath again until Mira placed a warm hand on my wrist.

“You’re too tense,” she said softly, peering down at me.

I blinked, slowly shifting my gaze from the ceiling back to her. “I’m fine,” I lied.

Not even a good lie. Just a default one.

Mira raised a brow but didn’t press. Instead, she walked over to the table beside the sink, mixing something in a small wooden bowl before handing it to Calla.

“She’s not in pain,” she said, “just… restless.”

Calla looked down at me, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“Maybe a short walk?” Mira suggested, her voice gentle, never demanding. “To the garden. Some air might help.”

Air? I had plenty of it here. This bed. This silence. This unfamiliar kindness felt too big for someone like me.

But still… I nodded.

Calla helped me sit up slowly, one arm behind my back, the other steadying my hand. I winced, but only a little. The sharp, firework kind of pain was gone now. What remained was more like a dull ache that kept whispering you’re still healing.

She draped a shawl around my shoulders. Not thick enough to hide, but enough to feel like I wasn’t exposed.

“Ready?” she asked.

No. But I nodded anyway.

We walked at a snail’s pace. Or maybe even slower. The hallways were quiet. Clean. My feet brushed softly against the floor with each step, but I still flinched at every tiny sound. Every laugh echoing in the distance. Every footstep that wasn’t mine.

Calla didn’t talk much. She just walked beside me like a shadow that didn’t press in, just lingered close enough to feel like protection.

By the time we reached the garden, the sun had slipped behind a cloud, and the air carried the scent of something fresh and green. Wet earth. Petals. And a faint hint of something that reminded me of better times I couldn’t quite place.

“This is my favourite part of the estate,” Calla said softly. “It’s always quiet here.”

I nodded, my eyes scanning the trimmed hedges and the beds of flowers arranged so carefully it almost looked like art.

We stopped near a low wooden bench. She gestured for me to sit, and I obeyed without a word, sinking slowly into it with a tiny sigh of relief.

“This okay?” she asked.

I gave a small nod, wrapping the shawl tighter around me.

“I can go sit on the other side if you want to be alone,” she offered.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “You can stay.”

It came out softer than I meant it, like I didn’t fully trust the words not to break on the way out.

Calla smiled faintly and sat beside me without another word.

Birds chirped somewhere nearby. A breeze rustled the leaves. A few petals danced along the stone path like they didn’t care who was watching.

I didn’t know what to do with peace like this.

I wasn’t used to things not hurting.

Or not being loud.

Or not feeling like I had to brace for whatever came next.

My fingers played with the edge of the shawl, twisting it between them gently.

“You look like you’re overthinking,” Calla commented, her tone teasing but still kind.

I let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t so tired. “I don’t know how not to.”

We sat in silence after that. And for once, it wasn’t the heavy kind.

It was soft. Stretching. A silence that didn’t suffocate but settled quietly into the space between us.

A few other wolves passed by the garden path. Some in pairs, others alone. No one looked twice at me. No one stared. No whispers.

I didn’t know how to feel about that either.

Maybe invisible was safer.

Maybe being looked at meant something worse.

Calla’s voice broke the quiet again, low and thoughtful. “Do you miss your old pack?”

I stiffened.

She noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine.”

I didn’t say yes.

Didn’t say no.

Just let the silence answer for me.

We stayed there for a while.

Long enough for the breeze to shift and carry new scents.

Long enough for my shoulders to forget they were supposed to be tense.

And when Calla finally helped me up and we started heading back inside, something strange settled in my chest.

Something I didn’t recognise.