Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 77

Bryan's POV

I sat there in the chair, staring at the pale walls, letting the silence stretch until it became heavy. My fingers were clasped together, my knuckles pressing white against my skin. The only sound was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Then the door swung open. Two maids stepped in, arms loaded with fabric. The first carried my tuxedo — black with silver lapels — the second held a tray with cufflinks, a tie, and polished shoes that probably cost more than a month’s wages for most pack members.

“Good morning, Alpha Bryan,” one of them murmured softly, as if she could sense the tension coiling inside me.

Before I could answer, Knox followed them in, a smile plastered on his face like he’d been rehearsing it all morning.

“Congratulations, brother,” he said, clapping his hands once in mock celebration. “Today’s the big day.”

I forced my lips into what I hoped looked like a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah,” I muttered. “The big day.”

Knox walked further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the tuxedo hanging in the maid’s hands. “You know, we were brought into this life for the pack’s growth and alliances. That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it will remain. So…” He gave a half shrug. “You might as well enjoy your big day and remember to smile. Everyone’s watching.”

I looked at him for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on me like cold iron. “Smile,” I repeated under my breath, not sure if it was for him or for myself.

The maids set to work dressing me, moving with practiced efficiency. The shirt’s fabric was crisp against my skin, the starch almost suffocating. Cufflinks clicked into place, the tie tightened at my neck. My reflection in the mirror didn’t look like me — it looked like the version of me they wanted to see.

Knox sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, watching. “You’ll thank me someday,” he said casually. “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day, you’ll realize this is what leaders do. We sacrifice what we want for what the pack needs.”

I kept my eyes on the mirror as the maid adjusted my collar. “And what if what the pack needs is killing me?”

He smirked faintly. “Then you die smiling.”

I almost laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that came from amusement — more like the kind that bubbles up right before you snap.

Beta Henry stepped into the room without knocking, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade. “It’s time,” he announced. His voice was even, but there was a faint glint in his eyes, like he knew I wasn’t walking toward something I wanted.

The maid stepped back, smoothing the last wrinkle from my jacket. Knox stood and came toward me, his hand landing firmly on my shoulder. The weight of it wasn’t comforting — it was a reminder.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “Don’t think this makes us close,” I said, my tone sharp. “Don’t treat me like a friend just because you’re playing best man today.”

His smirk returned, but there was something colder in his eyes now. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before either of us could say more, the door opened again. Alpha Rowland stepped inside. His presence was impossible to ignore — tall, broad, carrying that air of authority that made lesser wolves bow their heads without thinking.

“Bryan,” he said warmly, striding forward. “Congratulations, my boy. Today, our families unite.” He gripped my hand firmly before pulling me into a brief, almost fatherly embrace. “This is the beginning of a stronger future for our packs.”

I forced myself to nod, the words sticking in my throat. “Thank you, Alpha Rowland.”

He stepped back, looking me over as if assessing his own investment. “You look the part,” he said approvingly. “Remember — this isn’t just a wedding. It’s a statement. Every guest out there will be reading your face, your posture, your every move. You’ll need to show them confidence, pride, and unity.”

I swallowed, hearing the unspoken *even if it’s a lie*. “I understand.”

“Good.” His gaze flickered briefly to Knox and then to Henry. “Let’s not keep the crowd waiting. The future is about to begin.”

The three of them — Rowland, Knox, and Henry — moved toward the door, expecting me to follow. I took one last look at my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back wasn’t me. He was a role, a mask, a piece of strategy dressed in silk and silver.

But masks have their limits.

And mine was already cracking.

Third person pov

Bryan kept his steps steady, each stride echoing softly on the polished marble floor of the ceremonial hall. The chandeliers above cast a warm golden glow over the aisle, their light shimmering against the delicate silver embroidery on his attire. His expression was calm, but his mind was far from still. Every step toward the raised platform where the priest stood felt like crossing invisible thresholds, each one pulling him deeper into the heart of a moment that could never be undone.

Knox followed closely behind, his pace matched with an almost deliberate precision. He wasn’t smiling—not the wide, carefree grin he wore on most days—but there was a certain pride in his eyes. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, the sharp cut of his tailored suit making him look every inch the best man and loyal brother. His gaze kept drifting between Bryan’s back and the rows of guests filling the hall, scanning for familiar faces, nodding faintly whenever his eyes met someone’s.

The murmur of the gathered crowd was a soft undercurrent beneath the hall’s grandeur. Nobles from allied packs, emissaries from distant territories, and human dignitaries invited as honored witnesses filled the rows of ivory chairs. The air was tinged with a subtle fragrance of white roses and lilies, arranged in towering vases along the aisle, their petals almost glowing under the soft lighting.

The priest, a man with silver hair and a calm, dignified presence, waited at the front, hands resting lightly on the open ceremonial book. He gave Bryan a small nod of acknowledgement as the alpha approached, his eyes briefly shifting to Knox before returning to the groom.

Bryan’s boots clicked softly against the final steps leading to the platform. He ascended it without hesitation, his posture straight, his chin lifted just enough to meet the priest’s gaze without arrogance. Knox stopped just at the base of the steps, positioning himself to Bryan’s right, where he would stand throughout the ceremony.

Behind them, the ushers—young wolves chosen for their discipline and grace—moved with silent efficiency. They ensured latecomers were quietly guided to their seats and that the path to the altar remained unobstructed.

At the far end of the hall, the great double doors remained closed, but anticipation hung in the air. Everyone knew that once they opened, the bride would appear, and the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath in collective expectation. The faint strains of string instruments floated from the musicians stationed in a corner, their melody slow and reverent, building the moment like the soft unfolding of a story’s final chapter.

Knox’s sharp gaze swept across the first few rows. Baron was seated with Rowland, both alphas occupying the position of honor on either side of the central aisle. Baron’s dark suit was offset by the silver crest of his pack pinned to his breast, while Rowland’s attire carried deep shades of forest green—a subtle nod to his territory’s heritage. They were speaking quietly to each other, though their expressions remained outwardly calm. Every now and then, Baron’s eyes would flick to Bryan, measuring him with a look only a father could give—half pride, half unspoken advice. Rowland, meanwhile, seemed more focused on the guests, making small gestures to acknowledge familiar faces in the crowd.

The musicians shifted the tempo slightly, their tune taking on a richer, deeper tone. A subtle signal that the ceremony was drawing nearer to its most anticipated moment.

Bryan adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, not because they needed fixing, but to keep his hands from staying too still. Knox noticed and leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only Bryan could hear.

"Still time to make a run for it," Knox said, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bryan didn’t turn his head. "Not happening." His voice was firm, but there was a faint amusement there too, the kind that only someone who truly knew him would hear.

"You look like you swallowed a blade," Knox murmured again, eyes still on the crowd.

"That’s because you keep talking," Bryan replied dryly.

Knox chuckled quietly but straightened again, his attention returning to the guests. His role today was more than symbolic—he had Bryan’s back in more ways than one, even here, in the middle of a hall filled with both allies and potential rivals.

At the side of the platform, two ceremonial guards—both in formal uniforms adorned with their pack insignias—stood with their spears crossed in a resting position. Their presence was more tradition than necessity, but tradition was something neither family took lightly.

From somewhere near the back, a sudden hush began to ripple forward through the hall. Heads turned toward the grand doors as the music swelled into a soft, majestic chord.

The double doors opened slowly, revealing a sliver of the world outside before giving way to the full sight of the bridal procession.