Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 18

Enzo's POV

The day had barely begun, yet the tension already hung thick in the air. I was in my study, buried in half-signed documents and surveillance reports, when a knock came at the door. Three soft taps. Polite. Timid. Not one of the guards, not Kael, not Ash. Definitely not Atlas.

"Come in," I said without looking up.

The door creaked open slowly.

I raised my gaze—and there she was. Lisa. The omega.

She stepped in cautiously, shoulders hunched, eyes scanning the room like a mouse caught in the wrong den. Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. There was a faint bruise near her temple, less angry than before. The rest of her looked... mildly put together, considering the sorry state she'd been in days ago.

I leaned back in my chair.

"Did I send for you?" I asked.

She flinched slightly at the edge in my voice but shook her head.

"No, Alpha," she replied, barely above a whisper.

I waited. She stepped forward, head still bowed.

"I came to thank you for saving my life. And for... for bringing me here."

I remained quiet, waiting for the real reason.

She swallowed hard before continuing. "I wanted to ask when I might be assigned duties. I'm strong enough now. I want to be useful."

Useful. That word again. Omegas always used it like a shield. As if being useful was the only way they had a right to exist.

I sighed.

"I didn’t bring you here for work, Lisa. I took pity on you. That’s all."

She stiffened slightly. I didn’t miss it.

"If a position opens and we’re accepting omega applicants, you may apply like everyone else," I added, my tone clipped.

She nodded quickly, though I saw the disappointment flicker in her expression. She turned to leave.

Before she could, I pressed the telecom on my desk. "Kael."

The line buzzed. A moment later, his voice came through. "Yes, Alpha."

"I need you in my study. Now."

"On my way."

Lisa was almost at the door.

"You can go," I told her.

"Yes, Alpha."

She slipped out as quietly as she entered.

Moments later, Kael entered, dressed in his usual dark training gear, a thick leather folder in hand.

"You called for me?"

I motioned to the map spread across my desk. "Bridge two at the west border. There’s a structural fault in the enchantment layer. Atlas and you will head there immediately."

Kael stepped closer, scanning the diagram. "That's near the river line."

"Exactly."

"This wouldn’t be the rogues again, would it?"

I clenched my jaw. "It’s possible. Surveillance caught scattered movement at the edge of the barrier last night. It was faint. Deliberate."

Kael frowned. "That side’s usually quiet."

"That’s what worries me. I need eyes and strength out there. You’ll lead. Atlas will back you up. Ash remains here."

Kael nodded. "Understood. If it’s rogues..."

"Wipe them out," I said. "No prisoners. No negotiations."

Kael gave a firm nod. "Consider it done."

He turned to leave but paused at the door.

"And Kael?"

He turned back.

"No hero stunts. If it gets messy, fall back and regroup."

He gave me a rare smirk. "Copy that."

He was gone in seconds.

I leaned back again, fingers pressed together. The bridge. Rogues. And now the omega girl decided to show gratitude.

I had enough on my plate.

But that girl... Lisa.

There was something about her I couldn’t quite ignore. Not power. Not grace. But stubborn survival and the fact that she happens to be my mate make it more difficult not to think about.

I pushed it aside.

Duty came first.

The map still lay open before me, but my mind was already racing through other things. The council meeting is tomorrow. The update from the Eastward border. Irene’s visit. Another Alpha’s daughter is trying to throw herself into a political match.

I’d rather patrol the rogue territories shirtless than sit through another dance banquet.

A soft knock came again.

"What now?" I muttered.

It was Ash this time, stepping in, a parchment in hand. He tossed it onto my desk.

"That’s the merchant list for the next full moon trade," he said. "Also, the west granary shipment’s late again."

"They always are."

"Want me to pay them a little visit?" he asked, a grin teasing his lips.

"Not unless you want a formal complaint from Alpha Rowan."

He clicked his tongue. "Shame. I was hoping to stretch my claws."

I returned to the border diagram. "Go help Kael and Atlas prep. They leave at ten."

"Already done," he said. "I made sure the guard unit attached to them includes two scouts and a shield weaver."

I gave a curt nod. "Good."

Ash didn’t move.

"What?"

"You still thinking about her?"

"Who?"

He raised a brow. "Lisa."

I didn’t answer.

"She’s... different."

"She’s fragile."

"She survived a lot. That doesn’t scream fragile to me."

"She’s not our problem, Ash."

He raised both hands in surrender. "Alright. But you keep looking at her like she might be."

I gave him a hard look. He shrugged and turned to leave.

"You still haven’t read the envoy letter from the Nightshade pack," he called over his shoulder.

"Later."

And just like that, I was alone again.

The map is before me. The threats are beyond the walls. And a girl I didn’t plan on remembering—but somehow kept thinking about anyway.

The knock came softly, just two short taps, like whoever it was didn’t want to disturb me… or didn’t want to risk my temper.

“Enter,” I said, not bothering to look up.

The door opened slowly, and I caught the scent before I saw her—a familiar blend of lavender soap and something faintly floral. Calla. She stepped inside with a tray in her hands—wine, light snacks, nothing too heavy.

She moved quietly, head slightly lowered. Always mindful.

“Alpha,” she greeted, her voice calm but respectful. “I brought your refreshments.”

I gestured toward the corner of my desk. “Set it down.”

She obeyed immediately, placing the tray gently, not making a sound more than necessary. She stayed standing afterward, hands clasped in front of her, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor but close enough to watch for my reaction.

“Anything else?” I asked, already returning to the document I was reading.

There was a slight hesitation—just enough to make me glance up.

“If I may, Alpha…” she began carefully. “I wanted to ask if there are any special instructions regarding the omega… Lisa.”

My pen stilled.

“She’s settling in,” Calla added quickly, “but I thought it wise to confirm if there’s a specific direction you wish us to take with her. In terms of… duties or expectations.”

I leaned back slightly in my chair, my gaze fixing on her. “Did I say she was to be treated differently?”

“No, Alpha.”

“Then treat her like a guest. She’s not under punishment. She’s not staff. She’s healing.”

Calla nodded instantly. “Understood.”

“She’s not to be burdened or bothered. If she wants to rest, let her rest. If she wants to walk the halls or sit in silence, let her.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

I studied her a moment longer.

“She’s not to be pushed,” I said more quietly, but with weight behind each word. “No one is to treat her like a threat or a tool.”

“Of course not,” Calla replied quickly, the words tight with concern. “I only ask because she’s… withdrawn. And the others have noticed. I didn’t want her behaviour to be misread.”

“She has a reason to be cautious,” I muttered. “Let her breathe. That’s all.”

“Yes, Alpha.” She bowed her head slightly.

I nodded once, signalling the conversation was over, and reached for my pen again.

Calla didn’t move right away. She stood there a heartbeat longer.

“If she asks questions,” I said before she could turn, “answer them. If she wants space, give it. If she needs something you can’t give, come to me.”

“I will, Alpha.”

She gave one last respectful bow before backing out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Only then did I let out the breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding.

People feared me. That was natural. Expected.

But her fear wasn’t rooted in trembling. It was in precision. In loyalty. And perhaps… in knowing exactly what I could become if provoked.

Still—she did her job well. And more importantly, she listened.

I turned back to the parchment, the silence wrapping around the room again.

Lisa was no longer in enemy hands.

But even safety, I had to remind myself, could feel like a prison if the walls were unfamiliar.

Let her adjust.

Let her find her footing—on her own.

Because if she truly wanted to stand… I had the feeling she’d stand tall.