The Alpha Mate

Chapter 6

I barely remember that conversation with Draven—the one where he asked me that humiliating question. My mind had shut down, too terrified to process his words. All I know is that somehow, he allowed me to stay.

After that interrogation, I was sent away to "acclimatize."

The days blurred together. I was given a room—small, sparse, but mine. I was assigned tasks. I was watched. Always watched.

But slowly, against every instinct screaming at me to stay invisible, I began to find a strange comfort here. Not safety—I'd never be foolish enough to call it that. But I wasn't completely alone anymore, and that was something I hadn't felt in years.

Theo was the first to break through my walls, though I don't think he realized he was doing it. The pack's outcast daredevil, constantly testing boundaries with that infuriating smirk that said he didn't care about consequences.

He had a way of making training feel less like survival and more like something lighter than the brutal conditioning I'd endured back home.

And then there was Piper—steely-eyed, sharp-tongued Gamma. Watching everything with an almost maternal protectiveness that both comforted and unnerved me.

I couldn't tell if she was protecting me or protecting them from me.

"You're tougher than you look, Atlas," Theo called out during training, ducking as I swung a punch that barely missed his jaw. His grin was wide, genuine. "Didn't think a rogue could fight like that."

My chest tightened. Every compliment felt like a trap. Every skill I displayed was another risk, another thread for Alpha Draven to pull until my entire story unraveled.

What they didn't know—what they couldn't know—was that I'd been trained by an Alpha's regime.

Brutal. Unforgiving.

"Guess I've been underestimated before," I said, forcing steadiness into my voice even as my heart hammered.

The words came out shakier than I'd intended, but Theo didn't seem to notice.

Then I felt his presence before I saw him, like Draven's gaze was a physical weight as I sparred.

I could feel him watching from across the field, tracking every movement. It was impossible to ignore—impossible not to feel the way the air shifted when he was near.

When I lowered my guard, he crossed the field toward me. Theo stepped back automatically, and suddenly it was just the two of us.

"Not bad for a rogue," Draven said, his tone edged with curiosity. Or suspicion.

I met his gaze, keeping my expression neutral. "I've had to learn how to defend myself."

His eyes narrowed. "You fight like someone who's had more than just survival training." He paused, waiting. I could feel the trap closing.

"I've had my share of encounters," I said, refusing to elaborate.

He stepped closer, invading my space. "A rogue who fights like an Alpha's son." My blood turned to ice. "Interesting."

He knew? Or suspected?

"That's the way rogues survive, isn't it?" I replied. "We adapt or we die."

Draven's smirk widened, though his eyes remained sharp. He stepped back, but the look he gave me was heavy with something unspoken.

"Come with me."

It wasn't a request. My heart hammered as I followed him through twisting corridors to his quarters, the air thick with power.

My mind raced with every look, every word Draven had thrown my way. His suspicion was growing—I could feel it tightening like a noose. I'd never met anyone who could unravel me so easily, who made me feel stripped bare. It was terrifying. And somehow, Hyde stirred whenever he was near.

When he motioned me inside, every instinct screamed at me to run. The room was dimly lit, shadows amplifying the danger radiating from him.

Alpha Draven closed the door with a soft click and his gaze pinned me in place immediately.

"I want to know more about you, Atlas," he said, crossing his arms. "The truth this time."

"I've told you, I'm just a rogue."

"Just a rogue?" He tilted his head, a mocking smile on his lips. "You're hiding something. And I will find out what."

My hands clenched. "What do you want from me, Alpha Draven?"

He let the silence linger. Then he leaned closer, voice dropping to a husky murmur.

"You. In my bed."

The bluntness struck me like a blow. Before I could think, my hand shot out and connected with his face in a sharp slap that echoed through the room.

Draven only smiled—a dark, satisfied curve that made my stomach twist.

"I'm not that kind of guy," I said through gritted teeth, my hand stinging.

"I know," he replied softly. "You have the skin of royalty, Atlas. The bearing of someone born to power, not poverty." He leaned in further, his voice barely a whisper. "Tell me—who are you really?"

My breath caught. My resolve wavered.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" he pressed. "Care to share?"