Deadly Nightshade MXMXM

XXVI

Azrael wandered aimlessly through the vast halls of the twins' packhouse, the earlier events replaying in his mind like a broken record. He tried to shake the feeling of inadequacy that clung to him like a second skin, the sharp edges of jealousy and insecurity cutting deeper than he'd care to admit.

Despite his best efforts to ignore the gnawing thoughts, the sight of the two beautiful omegas throwing themselves at the twins lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

Time passed, though Azrael wasn't sure how much. He found himself in an isolated corner of the packhouse, seated on a stone bench that overlooked the sprawling grounds. The cold air bit at his skin, but he welcomed it, hoping it would numb the confusion and frustration swirling inside him. He didn't notice the twin shadows approaching until they were standing right in front of him.

Azrael looked up, expecting, hoping, for some kind of explanation—anything to ease the tension that had coiled tight in his chest.
But when they finally spoke, their words were as simple and detached as always.

"It's time for dinner," one of them said, his voice steady, almost too calm. "Get up."

Azrael hesitated, a flare of defiance rising within him. He didn't want to go , he didn't want to face the pack, to be reminded of how out of place he was. But he knew, deep down, that he had no real choice. He was their guest, and regardless of how they treated him, he had to comply. Swallowing his pride, he nodded and followed them back inside.

The atmosphere grew heavier as they approached the grand dining hall. Every step felt like a march toward something inevitable, and Azrael could feel the thickening aura of authority long before they entered the room. It was as though the very air was charged with the dominance of those who held true power here.

As they walked in, Azrael's eyes were immediately drawn to the head of the table, where the Alpha of the pack sat. His presence was overwhelming, a potent mix of power and control that filled the room. Next to him sat his Luna, her sharp gaze as penetrating as her mate's. The twin alphas led Azrael to the table, taking their seats on either side of him, a silent message of possession that didn't go unnoticed by anyone present.

Azrael tried to steady his breathing as he felt the Alpha's eyes on him, scrutinizing him with a cold, detached interest. He could feel the Alpha's gaze sweeping over him, assessing, judging, and it made his skin crawl. Finally, the Alpha spoke, his voice a low rumble that commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

"Who is it that sits at my table?" the Alpha asked, his tone sharp and filled with authority. "Why bring a foreigner? Why bring a stranger to the table?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Azrael could feel the tension spike around him, the silent judgment of the pack members palpable. He had never felt so out of place, so exposed. The silence that followed was unbearable, and for a moment, he wondered if the twins would even bother to respond.

Before they could, the double doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a loud, echoing creak.

Azrael turned, his heart sinking as two petite figures entered the room. The way they walked, the way the pack members' eyes followed them, it was clear—they were omegas. Their beauty was striking, with lithe frames and delicate features, and they carried themselves with an air of entitlement that made Azrael's blood boil. They moved with purpose, heading straight for the table, not sparing a glance in Azrael's direction.

As they neared, the Luna's face lit up, her previously stern demeanor melting into a warm smile. "Aiden, Lyle, it's so wonderful to see you both," she greeted them with a familiarity that only deepened Azrael's sense of isolation. The omegas returned her smile, their eyes briefly flicking toward the twins, who remained impassive.

Azrael's stomach twisted at the sight. He could feel the waves of approval radiating from the other pack members, the subtle way they all seemed to acknowledge these newcomers with a respect that was glaringly absent when it came to him. The realization hit him hard—he was an outsider here, more than he had ever been in his life.

The Alpha's gaze shifted back to the twins, his expression stern and disapproving. "Keep your play thing in check," he said, his voice dripping with disdain as he referred to Azrael. "Do not parade them for the rest of the world to see. You know your duty to this pack. You are betrothed to the omegas before you, to strengthen our alliances."

Azrael's hands clenched tightly in his lap beneath the table. The reality of his situation hit him like a punch to the gut. He sat there, forcing himself to remain calm and composed, even as every fiber of his being screamed at him to react. He was nothing more than a pawn in their game, a temporary distraction.

The twins remained silent, their faces a mask of indifference, giving nothing away. Azrael's heart raced, his mind spinning with unspoken fears and questions. What did this mean for him? What had the past weeks with the twins meant if they were already promised to others? The room seemed to close in around him, the pressure unbearable.

Just as the tension reached its peak, the meal was served. But for Azrael, the food might as well have been tasteless. His thoughts were consumed with the uncertainty of his position, his future, and what it truly meant to be seated at this table, caught between two worlds that were slowly crushing him under their weight.

He sat quietly, the storm inside him raging silently as he tried to piece together what was happening.