Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 36

Lisa's POV

I was still smiling like a fool when I stepped back into my room.

Soup. I actually offered him soup.

The door clicked shut behind me, muffling the faint laughter still bouncing around my mind. Kael's ridiculous dramatics had this strange way of making me feel... not so broken. Not so heavy. He was annoying and ridiculous, sure, but also oddly comforting in a way I wasn't used to.

I leaned back against the door, closing my eyes for a second, letting myself breathe in the calm.

That's when the knock came.

Short. Sharp. Followed by silence.

My heart skipped.

Please don't be-

"Lisa," came the voice from the other side. Calla's. But it was the way she said my name that made my stomach flip. Too quiet. Too apologetic.

I opened the door slowly.

"Alpha Enzo wants to see you," she said carefully, not meeting my eyes. "Now."

Every part of my spine went stiff. "Did he say why?"

She shook her head. "Just said to send you over the moment you return."

Great.

I didn't even get to sit down.

And now I was being summoned. Again.

I gave her a tiny nod and walked past her, hugging my arms as I moved, trying to keep my head from inventing a hundred terrifying reasons why the alpha would want to see me so soon after—

Oh no.

What if he was mad I went to the infirmary?

What if he thought I was being nosey? Or clingy? Or trying to insert myself where I wasn't needed?

Stupid.

Why did I go? Why didn't I just stay in my room like a good little omega?

I reached the study before I could turn around and run for the hills.

The guards outside gave me a look I couldn't read—was it pity? Amusement? Boredom? I didn't know, and I wasn't brave enough to ask.

One of them opened the door without a word.

I stepped inside.

The room smelled like leather, old wood, and something darker beneath the surface. Power. It clung to every book, every candle, every inch of air like smoke.

Enzo was behind his desk, flipping through a stack of papers. He didn't even glance up.

"Sit," he said simply.

I obeyed.

There were no seats right in front of him, of course, so I took the one off to the side—the one that made me feel a little smaller, a little more out of the way.

He didn't speak for a full minute.

Just kept reading, the occasional scratch of his pen the only sound.

By the time he finally looked up, my palms were sweaty again.

His eyes locked on mine.

"Did I give you permission to sneak around the estate?"

That voice. Calm. Collected. But cutting.

I felt my mouth go dry.

"I... didn't think—I mean, I only went to check—"

"I'm not interested in your excuses."

That shut me up instantly.

His gaze stayed on me, hard as marble. "You've been here how long? A week? And already I'm hearing about you fainting in the middle of a restricted section after witnessing something you weren't supposed to see."

I opened my mouth. Then closed it again.

What was I supposed to say? Sorry I screamed when you crushed someone's neck like a soda can?

Enzo leaned back slightly in his chair. "Tell me. Do you think this is how things work here? You wander around, eavesdrop on situations far above your place, faint when it gets too real, and then have half my household scrambling to deal with the mess you leave behind?"

Each word stung worse than the last. And the worst part?

He wasn't yelling.

No raised voice. No aggressive pacing. Just cold, clipped sentences that hit harder than any slap I'd ever received.

"I didn't mean to faint," I whispered, hating how pathetic I sounded.

He tilted his head, mock curiosity in his expression. "No? So it was intentional?"

"No! I just—I couldn't help it."

"You couldn't help it," he repeated slowly, leaning forward now. "That's the problem."

His words were knives now.

"You act like the world is some fair place where people will treat you gently if you cry hard enough. That's not how it works. Not in my pack. Not in any pack."

I looked down, blinking hard. My throat was tight.

"You want to survive here, omega?" he continued, his voice low but firm. "Then stop being such a damn whimpering child. Stand. Breathe. Walk. And when you see something brutal, don't collapse. Process. Move."

I clenched my fists in my lap.

His voice softened just a fraction. "You won't always be able to run and hide. Life isn't going to coddle you just because you've suffered before."

"I'm trying," I said, barely more than a whisper.

"For now, trying isn't enough."

Ouch.

But he wasn't wrong.

I had fainted. Again. I had panicked. Again. And here I was, in his study, being told—again—that I was a problem.

"I thought you brought me here to heal," I said quietly. "To recover."

"I did," he replied. "But healing doesn't mean curling into a ball every time someone raises their voice."

I felt the heat return to my face. Not from shame this time. From something sharper. Anger? Frustration? I didn't know. But I hated how small I felt.

"I didn't ask to be brought here."

He raised a brow. "And yet you were."

Silence stretched between us.

He stood then, walking around the desk. I stiffened as he approached, stopping just a few feet from where I sat.

He crossed his arms, eyes on me.

"I'll say this once," he said. "This is your second chance. Not just at living. But existing in a place where you're not beaten, not starved, and not treated like dirt. That doesn't mean you get to act like you're still back there. I don't give out pity. You don't get to be weak here."

I swallowed.

"Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes, Alpha."

He stared for a moment longer before turning away.

"You're dismissed."

I stood too fast, nearly tripping over the chair in my rush. I mumbled something that might've been "thank you" and stumbled out the door, letting it shut behind me before I finally let out a breath.

I didn't cry.

I wanted to. My chest ached. My eyes burned.

But I didn't cry.

I walked. One step. Then another.

He was right. I'd been pitiful.

Too broken. Too scared.

I couldn't do that anymore.

Not if I wanted to survive here.

Not if I wanted to matter.