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Out of long-ingrained habit, Brielle reported to the pack diner for her evening shift. She had worked there since she was fifteen, washing dishes and bussing tables to make payments on her debt. The work was hard and the pay minimal, but it was hers. She had earned every cent, and it was her last remaining piece of independence. The manager, a stern woman named Gloria, looked uncomfortable when Brielle walked through the back door.

“You should not be here,” Gloria said, her eyes avoiding Brielle’s. “My shift starts in ten minutes.”

“Your schedule has been cleared. Alpha’s orders.” Gloria finally looked at her, a hint of sympathy in her expression. “You have been removed from the rotation permanently.”

Brielle felt the floor tilt beneath her feet. “You are firing me?”

“Not firing. The Alpha said you are no longer required to work.” Gloria’s voice was soft.

“I am sorry, Brielle. Orders are orders.”

Fury burned through Brielle’s exhaustion. This job was her choice, her small piece of control over her own life. Losing it was not just an inconvenience; it was another chain, another decision made for her. She left the diner and walked straight to the main estate, not caring about protocol or permission. This had gone too far. A butler tried to stop her at the door, but she pushed past him.

“Where is Alpha Matthias?”

“Miss Marwood, you cannot just…”

“Where is he?”

The commotion brought Matthias out of his study. He looked at her with mild surprise, as if people did not usually storm his house in a fury.

“You took my job,” Brielle said, her voice tight.

“I adjusted your circumstances to reflect your new position,” Matthias corrected calmly.

“I did not ask for adjustments. That job was mine. The debt is mine to work off.”

“You represent my sons now, whether you like it or not. You cannot be seen scrubbing floors and serving food. It reflects poorly on them and, by extension, the pack’s leadership.”

“I never asked to represent anyone!”

“Nevertheless,” Matthias’s tone was final, leaving no room for argument. “The debt is suspended. Your employment is terminated. You will conduct yourself in a manner appropriate for a potential mate to the future Alpha. That means no menial labor.” It was just another cage, prettier than the last one, decorated with excuses about appearances and status. Brielle wanted to scream. Instead, she turned and walked out, containing her fury until she reached her cottage.

Only when she was alone did she let herself feel the full weight of it. She had lost her job, her purpose, another piece of her autonomy. Every day she spent here, she lost more of herself. That evening, a servant knocked on her door with an invitation to dinner at the main house. The polite phrasing did not hide the clear message that her attendance was mandatory. Brielle dressed in her best outfit, which still looked shabby in the context of the estate’s elegance. A servant led her to a formal dining room that could seat twenty people. The triplets were already seated, with Alpha Matthias at the head of the table. She was directed to a seat directly across from the brothers, the long table stretching between them like a battlefield.

“Thank you for joining us,” Matthias said, though they all knew she had no choice. “We will be doing this regularly to maintain appearances.”

The meal was excruciating. No one spoke except for Matthias, who made occasional comments about pack business. The food was delicious and plentiful, but Brielle could barely swallow. She kept noticing photographs on the walls of the triplets’ mother, an elegant and beautiful woman who seemed to watch and judge from every frame. Brielle looked nothing like that woman. Where their mother had been poised and confident, Brielle was rough and uncertain. Where their mother had belonged, Brielle was an intruder.

After dinner, Devereaux cornered her in the hallway before she could escape.

“If you are going to be here, learn how to act like you belong,” he said coldly. He looked at her simple outfit with distaste.

“Your posture was terrible, your table manners need work, and those clothes are an embarrassment to this family. If we must endure your presence, at least try not to humiliate us further.”

The bond made his words cut deeper than they should have. Her wolf whimpered at her mate’s rejection, and Brielle had to fight to keep her expression neutral.

“I never asked to be part of your family,” she said quietly. “And we never asked for you,” Devereaux replied, his eyes hard. “Remember that.” He walked away, leaving her standing alone in the elegant hallway. Through the bond, she felt his frustration and something else, something he was trying hard to suppress. Underneath his anger was confusion and that terrible, instinctive pull.

Brielle made it back to her cottage before breaking down. She had held herself together all day, but now she finally let herself cry. She screamed into her pillow, muffling the sound, releasing the rage and grief and helplessness she had been containing. She was trapped. She could not leave the pack, could not reject the bond safely, and could not escape her mates. Late that night, another knock interrupted her misery. She opened the door to find Thorne standing there, swaying slightly. He had been drinking, his eyes unfocused and his words slurred.

“This bond is a curse,” he said without greeting. “You have ruined everything. My life was perfect, and now I cannot stop thinking about you. It is driving me insane.”

“Go away, Thorne.”

“I hate this. I hate feeling you in my head. I hate knowing where you are every second.” He took a step closer. “But I cannot stop it. I cannot control it.”

Through the bond, she felt his genuine turmoil. The mate bond was affecting him the most strongly, his wolf demanding acknowledgment while his mind fought against it.

“That is not my problem,” Brielle said, and closed the door in his face. She leaned against it, listening to him stumble away. Through the bond, she felt his confusion and pain, and hated that she could feel anything from him at all. Alone again, Brielle resolved to fortify herself emotionally. They could control her circumstances, but she would not let them control her heart. It was a small rebellion, but it was all she had.