THE ALPHA'S HEALING MATE; BONDED TO THREE

"I'm not going to the annual pack festival!"

Celeste blurted out, her voice firm as she grabbed her thin shawl from the chair and slung it over her shoulder.

Her grandmother, seated near the fireplace, turned sharply, the wrinkles on her face deepening as she frowned.

"Come back here, Celeste! I'm ordering you!"

But Celeste didn't stop. She didn't even spare her grandmother a glance as she stormed out of the small wooden cabin they shared.

The door slammed shut behind her, shaking on its hinges.

The crisp evening air hit her face as she stepped outside.

The faint scent of pine and wet moss filled her lungs, but she didn't take a moment to enjoy it. Her anger propelled her forward, her boots crunching over the dried leaves scattered across the narrow path.

The annual pack festival. She hated everything about it. The glitzy celebrations, the false smiles, the underlying tension between packs pretending to be allies.

Her grandmother had been pestering her for weeks about it, insisting it was time for her to "step into the spotlight." She wasn't stupid, she knew exactly what that meant.

Find a mate.

That was all her grandmother wanted. Celeste was already twenty-one, and in the world of wolves, that was late. Most found their mates by eighteen. Her grandmother worried she'd grow old and alone, but Celeste didn't care. She wasn't ready to tie herself to someone just because of some mystical bond.

As she walked, her frustration ebbed slightly, replaced by a strange sense of calm. The towering trees around her swayed gently in the wind, their long branches stretching out like arms. The sun had begun to set, casting the forest in hues.

But then, she stopped.

Her brows furrowed as she looked around. The path she had been following was gone, replaced by a thicker, darker part of the forest.

"Where's this place?" she muttered, turning in a slow circle. The trees here seemed taller, their trunks wider and their branches casting eerie shadows.

She realized she couldn't hear the usual sounds of the forest. No birds chirping. No rustling leaves. Just silence.

"How did I get here?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A shiver ran down her spine as a sudden, inexplicable sense of unease settled over her. She turned, ready to retrace her steps, but froze.

Three men stood behind her.

They seemed to materialize from the shadows, their figures tall and imposing. Their eyes glinted with something dark.

Celeste staggered backward, her breathing quickening as her heart pounded in her chest.

"No way..." she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling.

The men didn't say anything at first. They simply smirked, their gazes sweeping over her like she was prey.

"What do you want, huh?" Celeste demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

But there was a crack in her tone, a hint of fear she couldn't suppress.

One of the men stepped forward, licking his lips.

"Such a pretty little wolf," he drawled, his voice low and taunting.

The other two chuckled, their laughter sending chills down her spine.

Her wolf stirred inside her, urging her to shift, to fight. But she didn't know if she could take on all three. Her mind raced, searching for an escape, but before she could act, something unexpected happened.

A figure appeared.

It was as if he had materialized out of thin air, stepping silently between her and the men. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and he wore a long black coat that swayed slightly in the breeze.

A hood covered his head like a mask, casting his face in shadow.

For a moment, no one spoke.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the men finally snarled, breaking the tense silence. "You better stay out of this, or you'll regret it."

The masked figure didn't respond. He didn't even flinch.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly toward Celeste, a silent gesture. Run.

Celeste hesitated, her instincts warring with her fear. The men were distracted, but could she trust this stranger?

"Run!" the figure commanded, his voice low and firm, breaking her indecision.

That single word sent a jolt through her. She turned on her heel and ran, her legs pumping as fast as they could.

Her heart raced, her breath coming in quick, sharp bursts as she darted through the trees. The sound of her own footsteps pounded in her ears, but she thought she heard the faint echo of a fight breaking out behind her.

Who was that man? And why had he helped her?

The questions swirled in her mind, but she didn't stop. Not until she was far, far away from that place.

The masked man turned to face the three men, his movements slow but steady, like he had all the time in the world. He didn't speak, didn't flinch, just stood there as if daring them to make the first move.

The first man, the one with broad shoulders and an arrogant smirk, stepped forward. "You think you can scare us just by standing there? You don't know who you're dealing with," he barked, cracking his knuckles.

Still, the masked man didn't say a word.

"Say something, or I'll..." The man didn't get to finish his sentence. The masked man struck fast, his fist connecting with the attacker's stomach. The force sent the man staggering back, clutching his middle and gasping for air.

The other two looked at each other, uncertainty flashing across their faces. "Get him!" one of them yelled, rushing forward.

The masked man didn't hesitate. He stepped to the side, grabbing the second man by the arm and twisting it behind his back. The man cried out, his knees buckling as the masked man shoved him to the ground with little effort.

The third man hesitated, his eyes darting between his fallen companions and the masked stranger. "You're dead meat for this," he spat, but there was no fight left in his voice.

"Try me," the masked man said finally, his voice calm but cold.

The last man took a shaky step back, then turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows. The others scrambled after him, their groans fading as they stumbled into the darkness.

The clearing grew quiet again, as the masked man turned and left the scene.

---

Celeste crept back toward the cabin, her legs still trembling from the encounter. Her thoughts were spinning, who was that guy? And why did he help her?

She pushed the cabin door open slowly, hoping her grandmother wouldn't notice she was back. Maybe she could slip into her room and pretend none of this ever happened.

"What are you doing here?"

The voice stopped her cold. She turned, spotting her grandmother by the fireplace, her sharp eyes watching every move Celeste made.

"You think I can't sense your presence?" Charity said, standing now, her hands on her hips.

Celeste froze, guilt flashing across her face.

Charity took a step closer, her voice stern. "Celeste, if you don't go to that festival, forget about this place you call home."

Celeste's breath caught in her throat. She stared at her grandmother, hoping she was bluffing.

But the look in Charity's eyes said she wasn't.

Was grandma really going to kick her out?

Celeste lay on her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling.

The moonlight filtered through the cracks in the woods, casting strange, shifting patterns across the room. She turned over for what felt like the hundredth time that night, her blanket twisting around her legs.

Sleep just wouldn't come.

Her mind kept circling back to the events of the day. The masked man, the way he'd appeared out of nowhere.

She sat up abruptly, her breath uneven. "Get it together," she muttered to herself, running a hand through her tangled hair. But her own words didn't bring her any comfort.

The shadows in the corners of her room felt darker tonight, deeper. She could've sworn she saw movement, a flicker of something just outside the reach of the moonlight. Her eyes darted around the room, searching, but she saw nothing.

It's just your imagination, she thought. But the feeling wouldn't leave her.

The sensation was overwhelming, like someone was there, watching. She glanced toward the window, half-expecting to see his silhouette against the moonlight. There was nothing but the faint rustling of the wind outside.

Her mind was racing, "is he coming for me?" She thought, she felt the guilt of leaving him behind.

Celeste lay back down, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She closed her eyes tightly, determined to will herself to sleep.

Then she heard it.

A faint creak, like the sound of a floorboard shifting under weight.

Her eyes flew open, her pulse pounding in her ears. She sat up slowly, her heart racing. The room was still, too still. She could feel her own heartbeat in her throat as she strained her ears, listening.

"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.