Choosen Mate Vs Fated Mate

The scent of roasted venison and herbs wafted through the air as Harlan and I sat across from each other at the long table in our dining room. The soft glow of the fire crackling in the hearth cast warm light over the plates between us. Dinner was a rare, quiet ritual for us, one of the few moments when the weight of the pack didn’t press down so heavily on his shoulders.

“How was the meeting?” I asked, slicing a piece of meat and glancing up at him.

Harlan sighed, and his fork paused midair. “The elders are at it again. They think the alliances should take priority over the crowning ceremony. They don’t see why we’re doing this now, not with tensions rising along the northern border.”

I frowned. “You’re their Alpha-to-be, not their puppet. The crowning isn’t just a tradition, Harlan. It’s about showing strength. A leader without a ceremony looks weak, and they know it.”

He gave me a faint smile and said, “Spoken like someone who’s spent too much time listening to the council herself.”

“Well, I have to,” I shot back, “Since I’m the one overseeing every little detail while you’re off playing mediator.”

“I don’t envy you. The pack decorators are worse than the northern rogues. They’d tear you apart if you so much as suggest the wrong shade of silver for the banners.”

“They already tried,” I joked, “Mallory nearly shifted when I vetoed the gold trim she wanted for the table runners. It’s a wonder I survived.”

The humor lingered for a moment, these were the moments I clung to the brief flashes of normalcy before the weight of duty crashed down again.

Harlan leaned back in his chair, as he watched me. “Thank you for handling all this, Anya. I know it’s more than you signed up for.”

I shrugged, “It’s what I’m here for. Besides, the pack deserves a leader who commands respect, and I want to make sure your ceremony reflects that.”

His hand reached across the table, brushing against mine, and for a fleeting second, I allowed myself to believe in the connection between us. But the illusion shattered with the sudden, sharp buzz of his phone on the table.

Harlan’s entire body stiffened, as he reached for it.

“Who is it?” I asked, despite the unease curling in my gut.

He glanced at the screen, “Lila.”

The name sent a ripple of tension through the air. “She always calls you,” I muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

“She’s grieving,” he said, “Shadow’s all she has left.”

Before I could respond, he answered the call,

“Harlan, Shadow’s not breathing properly,” Lila’s frantic voice came through loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t know what to do.”

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly. “I’ll be right there.”

“Wait,” I said, rising from my seat. “Harlan, she has the pack healers. Why does it always have to be you?”

He grabbed his coat, “She’s pack,” he replied. “And you know how important this alliance is.”

I watched as he disappeared through the door, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving me alone in the flickering firelight.

My wolf stirred uneasily, pacing within me, its restlessness feeding my frustration. I reached for my glass of water, hoping to quench the heat rising in my chest.

But my hands were trembling.

The glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor with a piercing crash. I stared at the jagged shards scattered across the wooden planks, my breath catching as the pain in my chest sharpened.

Blood bloomed across my palm, a crimson smear against pale skin as I knelt to gather the pieces. The sting barely registered over the ache clawing at my heart.

“Harlan…” I whispered, the sound swallowed by the emptiness around me.

I sat there for a long moment, my wolf silent now, as if mourning alongside me.