Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 195

Bryan's POV

The hall was suffocating.

The council droned on in their usual circles, voices overlapping like the buzzing of flies around a carcass. I sat at the head of the long table, fingers drumming against the wood, the weight of their words piling on top of the pressure already coiled in my chest. The plague. Always the plague. Numbers of the dead, numbers of the dying, useless suggestions, and the same hollow hope repeated over and over.

My patience was paper-thin. These men were supposed to be leaders, but all I saw were cowards wringing their hands while the disease crept closer to our borders.

I opened my mouth to cut through their babbling when the doors slammed open.

A guard stumbled in, his armor dented, his breath ragged. His eyes found mine immediately.

“My Alpha!” he cried, voice trembling. “It’s Baron. He—he collapsed.”

The words hit me like a blow to the chest. My chair screeched back against the stone floor as I shot to my feet. “What?”

“He collapsed in his chambers—”

I didn’t wait for the rest. My legs carried me out of the hall before another word could be spoken, the pounding of my heart louder than the rush of my steps. Baron. My father. The man who had raised me, trained me, beat me when I needed it, praised me when I earned it. The man who was supposed to be unbreakable.

I shoved past the guards and servants crowding the hallway, their faces pale with fear. The stench hit me before I even entered his chamber — the smell of sickness. Metallic, rotting, like spoiled blood. My gut twisted.

I burst through the door, my eyes locking immediately on the bed.

There he was. Baron. My father. My Alpha before me.

Collapsed against the pillows, his skin ashen, sweat pouring down his face. His body shook violently, every muscle spasming as he coughed up blood that sprayed across the sheets. His eyes rolled back, lids fluttering weakly as though he were fighting some invisible battle inside himself.

“Father,” I choked, rushing to the bedside. My knees hit the floor hard as I leaned over him, grabbing his hand. It was clammy. Cold. Wrong.

He tried to focus on me, his lips twitching, but only blood slipped out.

“Don’t talk,” I muttered, throat thick as I tightened my grip. “Don’t waste your strength. You’re going to be fine.”

Movement caught my eye, and I looked up sharply. The healer was already there, hovering at the opposite side of the bed. His robes were stained, his face grim.

I snapped. “Do something! Save him!”

“I am trying, Alpha,” the healer said, voice steady despite the storm in the room. “But this plague… it’s not like anything we’ve seen. It spreads faster in strong bodies, as though it craves power. Baron’s strength only makes it worse. My herbs, my spells—they cannot keep it at bay.”

“Then what the hell can?” I growled, my voice a whip crack that made even the guards at the door flinch.

The healer hesitated, and for the first time, I saw his composure falter. He looked at me, then at my father, then back at me.

“There is… one way,” he said slowly. “But you will not like it.”

I surged to my feet, towering over him. “Say it.”

“Lisa.”

The name sliced through the air like a knife. For a moment, I thought I misheard him. But no — the healer stood firm, his gaze unyielding.

“She is the only one who can heal this plague. I have read the reports, heard the whispers. She absorbs the pain of the wounded, carries their afflictions into herself, and restores them whole. If anyone can pull Baron back from the brink, it is her.”

Lisa. The name I hadn’t allowed spoken in this house for years.

Rage surged up in me immediately, hot and violent. My hand slammed down onto the table by the bed, rattling the cups and bowls stacked there. “That omega slave?” I spat, my voice a snarl. “You dare stand in front of me and tell me the life of my father depends on her?”

“She is no slave, Alpha,” the healer said firmly, though his hands shook as he pressed another cloth to Baron’s burning forehead. “Not anymore. She is a healer, blessed by powers none of us can deny. Call her what you want, hate her if you must, but if you want your father to live, she must be brought here.”

My teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. Images of her face flashed in my mind — the girl we had sold away, the woman who had survived, who now thrived in Enzo’s pack. The one I had spat on, looked down on, treated like dirt.

And now… now she held my father’s life in her hands.

My chest heaved as the fury twisted into something else, something rawer, uglier. I opened my mouth to argue, to curse, but the words never left. Because just then, the door slammed open again.

Henry rushed in, his face pale, his chest heaving. His eyes darted to me, to my father, then back to me.

“Alpha,” he gasped, “Enzo’s pack has been attacked. The rogues—one of their bridges is down. They’re under siege.”

The room went still.

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. My gaze flicked between Henry, the healer, and my father writhing in his bed.

If Enzo’s pack fell, everything fell.

The blood drained from my face as the truth settled in my gut. Enzo’s fortress wasn’t just his — it was the shield of all our packs. His land was the wall that kept the rogues at bay. If that wall crumbled, the flood would come for all of us.

I clenched my fists until my nails cut into my palms. A growl ripped from my chest, echoing off the stone walls.

“Damn it!” The word tore from my throat, half roar, half cry. I paced, every step heavy, every muscle coiled like it would snap. My father dying in the bed behind me. Enzo’s walls breaking in the distance. My people caught between plague and war.

Henry stepped closer, his voice low but urgent. “What are your orders, Alpha?”

I stopped pacing, my back to them all, staring at the flickering torchlight dancing on the walls. My chest rose and fell like a beast caged.

If I chose my father, the packs would fall. If I chose Enzo, my father could die before I returned.

But I had no choice. Not really.

I turned slowly, my voice low, guttural, shaking with fury. “Gather the elite troops,” I ordered Henry. “Every last one. We march tonight. We fight side by side with Enzo’s men. If his pack falls, so do we.”

Henry nodded sharply, his face set with grim determination, before sprinting out the door.

I turned back to the healer, my chest constricting as my gaze fell on my father again. His breathing was shallow now, his body twitching weakly under the blankets.

I stepped closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Keep him alive,” I rasped, voice breaking in spite of myself. “Do you hear me? Hold him. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care if you burn through every herb, every potion, every damn bone in your body. Do not let him die while I’m gone.”

The healer bowed his head. “I will do everything I can, Alpha.”

I swallowed hard, my throat thick. For a moment, I let myself look at Baron — not as an Alpha, not as a soldier, but as a son. His face twisted in pain, but I could still see him, the man who had taught me how to wield a sword, the man who had put me on my first horse, the man who had told me once, when I was a boy, that a true Alpha never broke even when the world demanded it.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” I whispered, too quiet for anyone but him to hear.

Then I turned, shoving the grief and fear down into the pit of my stomach where it belonged. My soldiers needed me. My pack needed me.

And if Enzo fell, none of us would have the luxury of mourning.

I stormed out of the chamber, the echo of my boots striking like war drums, my fury burning hot enough to drown out the ache in my chest.