Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 73

Alpha Enzo's POV

The scratching of my pen against paper was the only sound in the study, steady and precise as I made notes on the reports laid out in front of me. The numbers were unrelenting—supplies, security updates, the increased costs of expanding the training grounds. Winter was coming, and with it, the added strain of protecting our borders while ensuring the pack didn’t feel the bite of scarcity.

I barely noticed the knock until it came a second time, firm and measured.

“Come in,” I said without looking up.

The door opened, and Beta Ash stepped inside with that calm, unshakable presence of his. He held a cream-colored envelope in one hand, the seal pressed with an elaborate golden crest. Even from my desk, I could catch the faint whiff of perfume clinging to the paper.

“Wedding invitation,” he said, placing it neatly in front of me. “From Bryan and Irene.”

I looked up, letting my gaze linger on the envelope for a moment before I touched it. My fingers ran over the raised gold lettering as if the weight of the paper could change the fact of its contents. Bryan and Irene. It wasn’t surprising, given the rumors that had been circulating for weeks, but still, the formal confirmation made something inside me settle into a hard, cold knot.

“When?” I asked.

“four days from now,” Ash replied.

I tapped the envelope once before setting it down. “I won’t be attending.”

His brows lifted slightly, though he didn’t look particularly shocked. “You’re sure? It’s a major political event. The kind that draws eyes and cements alliances.”

“I’m sure,” I said flatly. “We have too much here that requires my attention. I can’t afford to leave the pack right now. You’ll attend in my place.”

He inclined his head, accepting the decision without argument. That was one of the many reasons I trusted him—Ash didn’t push when he sensed my mind was set.

“As tradition demands,” I continued, “take either Atlas or Kael with you. And as custom requires, you’ll bring two omegas along as representatives of our hospitality and goodwill.”

Ash shifted his weight, his tone measured when he asked, “Can I take Lisa along?”

The question caught me off guard for half a heartbeat. Lisa. I hadn’t expected her name to enter this conversation. Immediately, my mind brought up an image of her—standing in the training yard weeks ago, her jaw set with quiet determination, and then other moments, softer ones, where she’d been alone with her thoughts, a shadow of unease always lurking in her eyes.

“She isn’t mentally ready to face those people,” I said, my voice firm.

Ash held my gaze. “She’s been making progress. This could be a chance for her to—”

“I said no,” I interrupted, the edge in my tone leaving no room for negotiation. “There’s a difference between her finding her footing here and throwing her into a nest of people who would pick her apart with their whispers. I won’t risk it.”

Silence hung between us for a moment. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to press further, but he knew better.

“Understood,” he said finally.

“Good,” I replied, shifting the reports aside. “Pick someone else.”

Ash gave a short bow and left the study, closing the door quietly behind him.

I sat there for a moment, my hands resting on the desk. The faint scent of the invitation’s perfume still lingered in the room, sharp and cloying. With a quiet exhale, I pushed back my chair. My eyes ached from staring at the cramped handwriting of supply lists, and I needed to clear my head.

Opening the study door, I stepped into the hall—and almost immediately collided with someone.

The impact was enough to jostle the stack of books they were carrying, sending them tumbling to the polished floor in a loud cascade.

Lisa.

She froze, eyes wide as if she’d stumbled across something—or someone—she hadn’t expected.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then I crouched down automatically, reaching for the nearest book before the awkwardness could stretch too long.

“Careful,” I said, stacking the book in my hand. “You almost took me out there.”

She blinked, then let out a faint breath, crouching as well to gather the rest. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“That much is obvious,” I said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. I picked up another book, my eyes catching on the pastel-colored cover. I turned it so I could read the title. “‘Kisses in the Rain,’” I read aloud, raising a brow. “So, you have a killer taste. Romcoms, huh?”

Her head snapped up. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, it looks exactly like what it is,” I countered, handing the book back to her.

She shifted the stack in her arms, cheeks tinting faintly pink. “It’s research.”

“Research,” I echoed, my tone deliberately skeptical. “Right. And I read hunting manuals for the riveting plotlines.”

“I’m serious,” she insisted, hugging the rest of her books closer.

“Sure you are,” I said with an amused hum. “You just happen to be ‘researching’ the cheesiest love story I’ve seen in years.”

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance in them now. “I don’t like cheesy love stories.”

I arched a brow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fine,” she said, her chin tilting upward. “I’ll prove it.”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “Prove what?”

“That I don’t like romcoms. Give me a week,” she said, her eyes glinting with challenge. “You’ll see.”

A slow grin spread across my face. “Alright, Lisa. One week.”

She gave a short nod, almost triumphant, and turned to walk away. I caught the faintest mutter under her breath—something about stubborn alphas—but there was a small smile tugging at her lips.

I bent to pick up the last book she’d missed and called after her. “You forgot one.”

She turned just enough for me to see the amused exasperation on her face before she walked back to take it. “Thanks.”

Our fingers brushed briefly as she took the book from me, and something unspoken hung in the air for a moment. Then she turned again, disappearing down the hall with her stack of books clutched tightly to her chest.

I stood there for a moment longer, then shook my head and continued on my way, the faintest trace of a smirk still lingering.