Revenge to the Alpha Mate-Chapter 274

Aurora’s Perspective

The argument that ended so badly became a persistent thorn, pricking the days that followed with awkward silences between Lex and me. We still lived under the same roof, crossed paths at the dining table, passed each other on the training grounds, but something fundamental had shifted. I was no longer the sister he could casually tease or occasionally scold. He was no longer the brother I instinctively protected, thinking he just needed guidance. A sharp, fundamental disagreement on *what our future should be* now lay between us.

In some ways, I still did as I pleased. Turn me into the demure, reserved young lady Mother and the elder women expected? Not a chance. I still trained myself to exhaustion, sparred with members of the guard who respected my skills, spoke sharply, and carried myself with defiance.

But in other ways, I learned to compromise. Or more accurately, I chose a different form of rebellion—a kind of tactical retreat. Lily didn’t say much about my clash with Lex. She simply watched me with those all-seeing eyes for a few days, then began taking me to all the events I used to avoid like the plague: charity galas, social gatherings with other packs (especially those with suitable young Alphas), and tedious business luncheons.

"You need to be seen, Aurora," Mother said one evening, smoothing the hem of my gown. "Not just as a Lytton daughter, but as a young woman who has faced adversity and remained strong. Rumors need managing. Impressions need shaping. That in itself is a form of power."

I understood. Word of my "adventure" and Brett’s ordeal had spread, both within the pack and beyond. Instead of letting people whisper about "that reckless girl who almost got herself taken," we presented "the composed heir who handled a crisis with grace." It was political. Calculated. And damnably effective.

I wore the expensive, uncomfortable gowns, pasted on the appropriate smile, made conversation, danced, accepted tentative compliments and more subtle appraisals. I no longer openly challenged people or slipped away early. I bottled up the restlessness and rebellion deep inside, like capping a boiling kettle.

I told myself this was building capital, learning the rules of the game. Until I was strong enough. Until I found my own path... But on some nights, wiping off the makeup and shedding the fine clothes, looking at my familiar-yet-alien face in the mirror, I’d feel a wave of suffocation. Was this really me? Or was I becoming another bird in a gilded cage?

Once, after a particularly long and dull alliance-building dinner with some East Coast werewolf family, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I told the driver not to take me straight home, got out midway, and headed to Marta’s bar in the old district. The place was a mix of supernaturals and humans in the know, the atmosphere gritty and real. It let me breathe.

I ordered a whiskey, neat, and had just settled into my usual corner booth when I saw him.

Lex.

He was at the bar, two empty glasses in front of him, a third half-finished. He wore a dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar undone, hair slightly mussed. It was a far cry from the composed future-Alpha I saw at home and in meetings. He looked... weary, agitated, even a little lost.

My heels clicked sharply on the wooden floor as I walked over with my glass. He turned at the sound, and seeing me, surprise flickered in his eyes before being buried under a wave of more complex emotions—annoyance, impatience, maybe a touch of being caught out.

"Well, well," I said, leaning against the bar next to him and taking a sip, letting the burn slide down my throat. "If it isn’t our overburdened, ever-busy future Alpha. Slumming it in ’chaotic’ places?" My tone slipped into the familiar, sardonic cadence despite myself. Seeing him like this made that thorn twitch.

Lex grimaced, threw back a large gulp of his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "Stop hassling me, Aurora," he said, his voice roughened by the alcohol. "You’re the one who should be safely at the estate, or off with Mom at some ’meaningful’ function. Aren’t you afraid of another ’surprise’ here?"

"Surprises are better than suffocating," I shot back, the old fire stoking again. "At least people here don’t wear fake smiles and spew insincere bullshit. So what’s wrong, great Lex? The weight of the pack too much? Or just finding your ’problem’ sister too disobedient?"

He turned sharply, green eyes flashing with pained anger. "What do you know?!" he hissed, keeping his voice low but fierce. "You think I *want* to be here? You think I enjoy staring at files and reports, dealing with endless ’advice’ and ’expectations’? Father, the uncles... everyone’s watching me! Brett lies in a hospital bed dreaming of ’freedom,’ you dream of breaking the ’script,’ and what about me?! Who ever asked if I wanted *my* script?!"

His outburst gave me pause. I rarely saw him express such raw frustration and confusion. But the brief flicker of sympathy was quickly buried under our entrenched divide.

"So you come here and drink?" I scoffed. "That’s your solution? Then tomorrow, put your Alpha mask back on, scold Brett for hanging with rogues, tell me to accept my ’arrangements’? Lex, that’s not responsibility. That’s... cowardice. You won’t face what you really want, and you won’t admit the current path might be flawed."

"Shut up!" he snarled, his hand tightening on his glass until his knuckles whitened. "What gives you the right? Your ’true feelings’ are just irresponsible risks and childish rebellion! You and Brett—you only care about what feels good, never the consequences!"

"Consequences? We’re living the fucking consequences right now!" I fired back. "Because we were *too* obedient, *too* careful, we almost ended up as lab rats! Wake up, Lex! The world doesn’t revolve around your perfect plans!"

We glared at each other, hackles raised. The bar’s noise and music faded into a distant hum. The rift between us was like cold, clear glass—visible, impenetrable.

"Think whatever you want," Lex finally said, turning his head away. He drained his glass, slammed it down, and slapped cash on the bar. "Worry about yourself, Aurora. My business is none of yours." He stood, his steps slightly unsteady from the drink, but his back was straight as he walked out without a backward glance.

I watched him disappear into the yellow light of the doorway, a messy knot of emotions in my chest. Anger, disappointment, and a strange, indefinable sadness. We used to be so close.

I finished my whiskey in one go. The burn traveled from my throat to my stomach but did nothing to warm the cold feeling settling around my heart.