Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 19

Alpha Baron’s POV

The scent of aged mahogany and cigar smoke lingered in my study, wrapping around me like a second skin. My fingers toyed with the gold pen on my desk, a habit I’d picked up from my father when he ruled before me. The fire in the hearth crackled low, casting shadows that danced across the walls. Silence was rare in this house, and I had come to appreciate it more than most things in life.

Until it was broken.

A knock came, firm and authoritative.

"Enter," I said without looking up.

The door creaked open, and the familiar presence of Alpha Rowan filled the space. The man had a way of commanding a room even without saying a word. Tall, silver-streaked hair, and eyes that had seen too much bloodshed to be fooled easily.

"Baron," he greeted with that low rumble of his voice, stepping in with the air of an equal. "Hope I’m not intruding."

I stood, meeting him halfway with a handshake that spoke of old wars and older alliances. "Never, Rowan. You’re always welcome. Sit. Drink?"

He nodded. "Something strong. It’s been a long ride."

I poured two glasses of bourbon, handed one to him, and resumed my seat. He leaned back into the leather chair across from me, sipping slowly as his sharp gaze took in the room.

"You've redecorated," he noted.

I smirked. "I had to burn the past to make space for the future."

"Mm. That future still includes our children?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.

There it was. The real reason he came. Not the bourbon. Not the pleasantries.

I leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "You know it does."

He inclined his head. "Then let’s finalise it. Our packs need this alliance more than ever. With the shifting politics and rogue movements gaining momentum, we can’t afford to hesitate."

I nodded. "Bryan is... still adjusting. But the union will happen. Irene is more than capable of keeping him steady."

Rowan’s lip twitched. "If she doesn’t kill him first."

I chuckled, low and humourless. "A strong woman is what he needs. Discipline. Order. He’s too soft sometimes. Still acts like the boy I raised to be a king."

"He’s a reflection of his Alpha. Don't forget that," Rowan said pointedly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Only that we shape them, whether we like it or not."

We drank in silence for a moment after that. The fire snapped behind me, filling the space with its sharp little echoes.

"We’ll set a date," I finally said. "Soon. I want the celebration to be large enough to remind every fool out there who still runs these lands."

Rowan raised his glass. "To the future."

We clinked our glasses, and he drained the rest of his bourbon in one go. He never did enjoy lingering.

As we rose, he straightened his coat. "Let’s walk out. I’d like to see the new guards you trained. Heard they’ve been shaping up well."

"They have," I replied, opening the study door.

We stepped into the corridor, the polished floor reflecting the overhead chandeliers. I could already hear the distant murmur of activity. My house was never still for long.

As we turned the corner, a figure approached us from the hallway. Bryan.

He was dressed in one of those infuriatingly casual tunics he insisted on wearing lately. Hair tousled, eyes alert, but not sharp enough for my liking.

"Father. Alpha Rowan," he greeted, giving us both a respectful nod.

"Bryan," I acknowledged, my tone clipped. "Wait for me in the office. I’ll join you shortly."

He hesitated only for a moment before bowing slightly. "Yes, Father."

I watched him go with a tight jaw.

Rowan caught the tension. "He’s still young."

"He’s no cub," I muttered. "And I won’t let him rule like one."

Rowan didn’t argue. He knew better.

We stepped outside to the training grounds, where a few of the younger wolves were sparring. I gave him the tour he came for, exchanging comments on posture, strength, and formation.

But my mind was already turning.

I had a son to deal with. A wedding to finalise. And enemies that didn’t sleep.

Rowan eventually left with the promise that our alliance was still intact. But he also left me with a weight heavier than the glass he’d emptied.

I made my way back inside slowly. Each step deliberate.

Bryan had better be ready. Because the future I was building would not be kind to weakness.

And I had no intention of being disappointed again.

I walked into the office, the door clicking shut behind me. Bryan was already seated, elbows on the armrest, eyes trained on the large portrait of his grandfather hanging above the fireplace. The silence in the room was thick enough to strangle.

He turned as I approached, but I didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“We’re finalising the wedding this weekend,” I said, watching him closely.

His brows drew together. “The wedding?”

“Yes,” I said sharply. “I’ve spoken with Alpha Rowan. He and his family will be joining us for dinner. You will attend. You will act accordingly. And the union between you and Irene will be sealed.”

He stared at me like I had just asked him to drink poison. “So… that’s it? It’s all decided?”

I nodded once. “There was never anything to decide, Bryan. You are my son. The future Alpha. This alliance was forged long before your feelings were relevant.”

He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “Do I get a say at all, or do I just show up like a damn prop?”

“No,” I said simply. “You don’t get a say. This is bigger than you.”

His jaw clenched. “Fine,” he said after a pause. “Then do me the courtesy of informing me of the date and the dress code. I’d like to plan ahead if I’m going to be sold off like cattle.”

I ignored the sarcasm, walking over to the desk and pulling out the invitation card draft. “Saturday. 6PM. Formal.”

He stood, eyes stormy but posture composed. “Understood. Anything else, Father?”

“Yes,” I said, fixing him with a hard stare. “Try not to embarrass me again.”

He said nothing—just gave a bitter smile, turned on his heel, and left the room.

I leaned against the edge of the desk, fingers curling around the edge of the wood.