Her Mates

3

JURI'S P.O.V

I still couldn't believe it. After years of searching, she was finally here—our missing piece. Our mate. The one who would complete us.

It wasn't uncommon for high-ranking wolves, especially Alphas, to have multiple mates. I had known since my teenage years that Zacharias and Hunter were mine, and as time went on, we found Emilia as well. We were soulmates—bound together by something far deeper than love. And yet, something had always been missing. A quiet, unspoken absence that none of us could fully name.

Until now.

Finding her had been pure chance. She had only come here because of issues with her parents, seeking refuge with her sister. If not for that, who knows how much longer we would have wandered, incomplete? The moment I stepped into my Beta's house, I caught the scent—roses and cinnamon, intoxicating and unmistakable. It struck me with a force I hadn't been prepared for, and my wolf, Aramis, surged forward with a single, overwhelming need: Find her. Claim her.

Then Zac confirmed it through our mind link. He had seen her. Spoken to her. And she was ours.

I should have handled it better. I know that now. But as soon as I laid eyes on her, instinct took over. She was fragile, human, unprotected. The idea of anyone—even my Beta—being close to her sent a primal rage coursing through me. And when Phil dared to stand between us, to question whether she was truly ours, my wolf saw it as a challenge.

Aramis would never tolerate someone trying to take what belonged to us. And so, I lost control.

I wish I could take it back. The fight, the way I terrified her, the way she looked at me like I was a monster. No werewolf ever wants their mate to fear them. Seeing her eyes widen in terror, watching her tremble in my arms before finally breaking down into tears—nothing had ever made me feel more powerless.

She thinks I'm insane.

And maybe, in that moment, I was.

Now, I can only watch as she tends to Phil, gently pressing a cooling pad to his bruised skin, whispering apologies that aren't hers to make. Every touch—every moment of care—sends another sharp stab of possessiveness through me. She's too close to him. I don't like it. Neither do my mates.

Hunter shifts beside me, his jaw tight, while Zacharias crosses his arms, unimpressed. Even Emilia, who is usually indifferent to displays of affection, watches her with wary eyes. We all feel it—the same deep-rooted instinct warning us that she should be with us, not him.

And yet, I've done nothing to make that happen. If anything, I've only made her want to run further away.

I can hear it in the way she speaks to us, the guarded suspicion in her voice.
"I'll leave you to your secret conversations."

She doesn't trust us. Not yet.

A part of me wants to go after her, to explain, to fix this before it spirals further out of control. But I don't move. None of us do. We're all too aware that, for now, any attempt to approach her will only make things worse.

Minutes pass in silence before we hear footsteps—light, quick, retreating up the stairs.

And then Casey enters the room, her expression unreadable. She crosses to Phil's side, checking over his injuries, though we all know he's healing fast. Satisfied, she turns to me.

"You really screwed it up."

No argument there.