Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 17

Atlas's Pov

“Are you always this boring, or is it just when I’m in the room?” I asked, flopping onto the edge of Enzo’s massive bed like I owned the place.

Enzo didn’t even look up from his book. That irritated me more.

“You know,” I continued, tossing a pillow at him, “most people would kill to be in the Alpha’s quarters. I, for one, expected at least a banquet or someone feeding me grapes.”

He caught the pillow mid-air without breaking his sentence.

“I could arrange a beheading instead,” he muttered, still flipping through pages like he wasn’t threatening his actual littermate.

I gasped loudly, clutching my chest. “Enzo! Is that a death threat I smell in the air? You wound me.”

“Atlas,” he sighed.

“Present,” I replied sweetly, leaning forward like a kid about to hear a bedtime story.

“Scram. Before I really decide to chop your head off and gift it to Ash as a stress ball.”

I stood up immediately, bowing like a clown at a royal show. “As His Majesty commands,” I said dramatically and stomped toward the door, pausing with a hand on the knob.

I turned halfway. “On a serious note, Mira called in earlier. Your tonic’s ready.”

“Good. Pick it up for me on your way out,” he said lazily, finally closing the book and placing it on the side table.

“You use me like a servant, you know that?” I muttered.

He raised a brow. “And yet you still breathe.”

Fair enough.

—

I was halfway down the east corridor, humming something off-key, when someone bolted from one of the halls and rammed right into me.

I staggered slightly, instinctively steadying whoever it was—small frame, trembling arms, and eyes wide with panic like she’d just been summoned for execution.

Lisa.

She looked like she'd seen a ghost. Or worse—Bryan, because I heard he made quite a fuss over a servant he treated like trash.

“Hey, slow down there, warrior,” I said lightly, trying not to spook her more than she already was.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Just a sharp breath and an expression like she was expecting a punch any moment now.

“I’m not gonna hit you,” I said gently, brows furrowing. “No one is.”

She looked down, fingers gripping the hem of her blouse. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” I cut her off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just… take a breath, yeah?”

She blinked up at me, still stiff as a board.

“Why don’t you head back to your room? I’ll have someone check on you soon.”

She nodded quickly, like agreeing too slowly might offend me.

I watched her turn and walk away, her steps awkward and hesitant.

Damn. What the hell had those people done to her?

—

Calla popped out from the hallway as if she’d been lurking.

“Were you eavesdropping?” I asked, folding my arms.

“I was walking,” she said. “My ears just happened to be open.”

“Sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Listen, can you do me a favour?”

She tilted her head. “Depends.”

I leaned in. “Get Lisa a dress. Something comfortable but decent enough to feel like herself in. And then help her get to the infirmary.”

“She doesn’t have an appointment.”

“I know. Tell her it’s a check-in. But…” I scratched the back of my head. “Say it’s an order from Enzo. I don’t want her thinking we’re fussing over her.”

Calla narrowed her eyes with a smirk. “You owe me one, and you are kind-hearted.”

“I’m not soft. I’m functional,” I snapped. “Go.”

She gave a half-mocking bow. “At once, your highness.”

—

I made a quick stop at Ash’s room. Knocked twice. He opened shirtless, clearly mid-workout or mid-something equally dramatic.

“Doc left some papers in your room again,” I said, pushing past him and snatching the brown folder off the dresser.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered.

“Get a shirt, would you? Some of us have weak stomachs.”

I ducked out before he could throw something.

—

By the time I got to the infirmary, Lisa was already in the office. To avoid making things more complicated, I picked up the tonic; I already saw my name on it.

“This bastard already had my morning mapped out,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes dramatically when I heard Mira's doctoral report.

“Just let her take the rest,” I intervene before I could control my mouth, and she turned to face me with her puppy eyes, which kind of awakened something in me.

I picked up the pen and signed off on the paper before rushing out of there and making a fool of myself.

–

Back in Enzo’s room, he barely lifted his head when I tossed the tonic on the table.

“She needs two weeks off,” I said.

“Then give her,” he muttered.

He waved me away like I was a fly buzzing near his ear.

“Nice chat, as always,” I muttered, walking out.

I didn’t head straight back to my room. Gods no. That tonic run, Ash’s unsolicited chest reveal, and Enzo’s barely-there grunts of acknowledgement had wrung enough drama out of me for one afternoon.

So I did the next logical thing.

I made a beeline for the garden.

Not because I was sulking—let’s be clear on that. I just needed a breather, a bit of peace, and a place where no one was throwing glares, punches, or paperwork.

The garden was Enzo’s idea of therapy. Well-trimmed hedges, blooming night roses, that annoyingly calming water fountain in the centre—it was disgustingly perfect. Peaceful. Almost like it didn’t belong in the same universe as the rest of us savages.

I found the bench tucked near the west side of the garden, beneath the shadows of those tall ash trees that always whispered when the wind passed through.

Perfect spot.

I sank into it with a satisfied groan and pulled out the folded document from my inner jacket pocket—one of Enzo’s ever-cryptic task scrolls he’d handed me earlier and conveniently forgotten to explain.

“Let’s see what flavour of confusion you left me this time, dear brother,” I muttered, unfolding it like it might bite.

Ah. A detailed outline of the upcoming joint alliance ceremony between our pack and the Silver Hollow clan. Formalities, dress codes, security placements, ranking orders… even a bloody seating chart.

Enzo must be thrilled.

Half of the parchment was covered in his rigid handwriting, annotated with little arrows and notes in the margin. The guy was a control freak with a crown, basically.

My eyes scanned a few lines, but my brain was still stuck on Lisa. The way she froze when I bumped into her earlier. How even my attempt at reassurance had been met with that confused, desperate glance—like she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

What the hell had Bryan done to her? No, scratch that—what had they all done to her?

I clenched the paper tighter, then forced myself to relax. No good letting rage rot in my gut. Enzo trusted me to help with this upcoming ceremony and watch his back while doing it. That meant less fuming, more planning.

The moon's glow filtered in through the canopy, casting silver shadows over the parchment as I reviewed the next segment—security detail during the alliance oath.

That’s when I heard it—soft footfalls against the gravel. Familiar gait. Predictable timing.

“I know you're there,” I called out without turning.

A beat of silence before the voice replied.

“Didn’t think you’d be caught dead with paperwork.” Ash.

I smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be caught with clothes on.”

He walked into view, dressed this time—miracles did happen.

“You working on the alliance brief?” he asked, nodding at the scroll in my hand.

“Trying to. But your dramatic abs from earlier left me temporarily blind.”

He snorted. “I aim to leave an impression.”

“You succeeded,” I said dryly, rolling the scroll closed.

Ash glanced around the quiet garden, his face relaxing just a bit. “Any word from Enzo since?”

“He waved at me like I was a passing fly.”

“That's practically a hug from him.”

I chuckled. “You know, you could try helping with this alliance prep instead of flexing your triceps every hour.”

He gave me a sarcastic bow. “I have a very tight training schedule. I’m doing my part… in spirit.”

I leaned back against the bench and tossed him the scroll. “Here. You can at least look over the guard rotations.”

Ash caught it, sighed, and sat beside me with all the reluctance of a man being handed a math exam.