Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 8

Bryan’s pov

The minute my father called for a “game to strengthen bonds,” I knew he was about to humiliate somebody. Probably me.

He waved his hand, and the servants brought in a long oak table draped in black velvet. Scrolls. Tokens. Detailed war maps painted on parchment. It looked like a political battlefield—and it was.

He called it “Alliance or Ambush.”

Rules were simple:

Draw a scroll. Read the scenario. Make a move.

Each decision earned or lost points.

This wasn’t a drinking game.

It was a strategy.

Diplomacy.

Power flex, dressed as entertainment.

Of course.

He never missed an opportunity to parade us like prize dogs.

“Let’s see which of our great leaders has the sharpest mind tonight,” my father boomed with a proud grin. “And which ones... need sharpening?”

Everyone chuckled politely, but I could see the slight shifts in posture—Alphas straightening their spines, Betas narrowing their eyes.

They knew this wasn’t just a game.

It was a fucking evaluation.

Alpha Enzo stepped forward first.

Calm. Confidence. Hands behind his back like he owned the room.

He drew a scroll, read silently, then lifted his gaze.

Scenario: A famine sweeps across three allied packs. Your stores are full. Do you share resources, risking depletion, or do you offer aid with heavy trade terms?

He didn’t even pause. “I share everything but attach a protective alliance clause. Help now. Loyalty later. When they recover, I gain warriors and influence.”

The room murmured, impressed.

5 points.

Next up—Ash.

He moved like smoke. Silent, smooth, and unbothered.

He drew his scroll, eyes flicking across the text before he folded it once and spoke.

Scenario: A rogue assassin has been captured. He claims to know your Beta’s secret dealings with enemies. Do you kill him or interrogate him at the risk of fracturing internal trust?

Ash’s voice was quiet and firm. “I let him go with a tracking seal. His next move leads me to the root. I will deal with the Beta after.”

A few gasps. Bold choice.

Calculated.

5 points.

Then came the others. Most fumbled. A few played safe. A couple tried to outwit the system and got laughed out of the room.

Then me.

I stepped forward, snatched a scroll, and read.

Scenario: Two packs under your protection break into war. Taking a side means losing one forever. Staying neutral means chaos grows. What do you do?

I looked up slowly, forcing a smile. “I step in, kill both their Alphas, and install temporary rule until a new leader is chosen from each pack.”

Silence.

Then a few nods. A few smirks. My father raised his brows.

5 points.

The game went on. Scenarios escalated—

– Plagues.

– Border breaches.

– Betrayals within the council.

– Trade imbalances.

– False alliances.

Enzo played like a veteran king—he made moves that secured long-term power without unnecessary bloodshed. Every time he opened his mouth, he spoke like someone already five steps ahead.

Ash?

Ash didn’t play like the rest of us.

He predicted it like he’d seen the future.

His moves weren’t flashy—they were surgical. Cold, emotionless, but undeniably effective. While others tried to show off, Ash cut right into results.

Meanwhile, I—

I held my own.

But I could feel the weight of my father’s stare with every scroll I pulled.

Every move I made, he measured.

And he wasn’t clapping anymore.

By the time the final round started, three people were on top:

Ash – 35 points

Enzo – 34 points

Me – 30 points

The last round decided it.

My father cleared his throat, loud enough to silence the entire hall. “Final scenario. The one that seals the victor.”

Ash stepped forward.

Pulled the scroll. Read.

Scenario: Your Alpha orders you to begin a war against a peaceful allied pack for personal gain. The pack has no defences but strong trade value. Do you obey or betray your Alpha?

He didn’t blink. “I assassinate my Alpha. Secure the peaceful pack’s loyalty, and absorb their trade routes under mutual alliance.”

Dead silence.

Enzo smiled faintly.

My father didn’t.

Then Enzo stepped forward.

His scroll read:

Scenario: A new species is discovered. Highly intelligent. Non-wolf. They request protection and offer to share advanced weaponry. Accepting their help could alter tradition. Refusing could make them enemies. What do you do?

Enzo folded the scroll. “I host them under a probation pact. One moon cycle. Observation, integration tests. If they pass, they join our lands as allies. If not, I exile them.”

My father gave a slow nod.

Then looked over the scores.

“Ash—40 points.

Enzo—39.

Bryan—30.”

His tone dipped ever so slightly.

“Congratulations to our guests,” he said, raising a goblet, though I could see the faint tick in his jaw. “Our strongest players tonight.”

Everyone clapped.

I didn’t.

Not because I was bitter.

But because I could feel it.

That shift in his eyes, that disappointment. My father didn’t look at me like a son; he looked at me like a miscalculation.

The clapping hadn’t even died down before my father lifted his goblet again like he was hosting a damn coronation. His voice boomed across the hall, crisp and full of pride.

“In accordance with the tradition of our lands,” he began, “winners of Alliance or Ambush may ask for any reward from the host pack. No limits. No exceptions.”

Of course.

He always knew how to dress his ass-kissing in tradition.

His eyes went to Beta Ash, who was now sipping from his goblet like he’d already won the world. That man didn’t just move like a leader. He breathed like one.

“You, Beta Ash, have bested tonight’s game. What does your noble self desire?” he asked, gently bowing his head a little.

“Alpha Enzo will do the bidding,” he casually replied.

The hall went dead silent.

Enzo set his goblet down slowly, leaned forward on one elbow, and looked directly at my father like he was sizing up whether he was worth answering.

“I want to see your Omegas,” he said.

Just like that. No buildup. No context.

The words dropped like an axe.

The entire hall stiffened.

My brows pinched. I wasn’t sure I heard right.

“What did you say?” my father asked, like he needed confirmation he wasn’t being insulted.

Enzo didn’t flinch. “I said—bring out all the Omegas in your pack. Line them up.”

The air shifted instantly.

Not a single fucking sound. Not even a breath.

He didn’t blink. He didn’t smile. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, and he damn sure didn’t care if it sounded outrageous. He wanted Omegas. For what, he didn’t say.

My father’s lip twitched, just a little. “You… want to inspect the lowborns?”

“I want to pick one,” Enzo clarified. “That’s the reward I choose.”

The tension snapped like a whip.

Some guests muttered. A few widened their eyes. Others just waited to see if Baron had the balls to deny him.

But we all knew he didn’t.

Not with how Enzo cleaned out the scoreboard tonight.

My father stood up, posture stiff, and smiled tighter than a noose.

“So be it,” he declared loudly, face already burning with embarrassment. “Bring every Omega. Drag them in here if you must.”

He turned to the guards and snarled, “Now!”

A few seconds later, the heavy hall doors creaked open. And like prisoners being walked to trial, the Omegas were led in.

Barefoot. Limping. Starved. Some barely had strength to hold their heads up. Others looked dazed, like they’d already accepted they were no longer human.

And then—I saw her.

Lisa.

She was in the back of the group, barely standing. Her arms hung lifeless by her side. Her lips were cracked. Skin pale. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.

She was breathing. But only barely.

I froze.

Everything inside me burnt.

The guards were parading her like livestock. In front of nobles. Alphas. Guests. For a fucking selection?

I snapped.

“Take her back!” I growled, stepping forward, eyes locked on the guard closest to her.

He turned, confused.

“I said take her back now!” My voice cut through the room like a damn blade.

Everyone turned.