Fated To Four Brothers And Their Lycab Daddy

✧⁠◝⁠(BROOKLYN POV)⁠◜⁠✧

The kick landed hard against my ribs, jolting me from a dreamless sleep into searing pain.

"Get up, you worthless piece of shit."

Tyler's voice cut through the haze. I blinked, disoriented, the cold marble floor pressing against my cheek. Right. I'd been cleaning the east wing since midnight while everyone slept in their warm beds. I must have dozed off.

My stepbrother loomed above me, his expensive shoes inches from my face. "Did you hear me? Father's office is a mess, and you're here lazing around?"

I pushed myself up slowly, my body screaming in protest. "I cleaned it three hours ago—"

"Don't you dare talk back to me."

The backhand came so fast I didn't see it. My head snapped to the side, my cheek exploding with heat. Before I could recover, his fist tangled in my hair, yanking so hard my scalp burned and tears pricked my eyes.

"Pathetic," he snarled, dragging me across the floor. "Just like your whore of a mother. At least she knew how to keep her mouth shut before she disappeared."

I flinched at the mention of my mother. He knew. He always knew exactly where to strike. I wanted to scream. To back fight back. But instead I bit my tongue until I tasted copper. No point fighting. Tyler was bigger, stronger, and I'd learned years ago that resistance only made it worse.

"Tonight is the Moon Celebration," he continued, his grip tightening. "Father needs everything perfect. Nothing must go wrong." He released me with a shove, and I crumpled. "So you'll go clean the office like the useless bitch you are. Got it?"

I couldn't answer. The pain was too much, my ribs screaming with every breath.

That made him angry.

His boot connected with my ribs again-once, twice. I heard the crack before I felt it. White-hot agony exploded through my chest, and a strangled cry tore from my throat.

"Say it bitch," he demanded.

"I'll do it," I choked out. "I'll clean everything."

He smiled. That horrible, satisfied smile that made my stomach turn.

"Good girl." He patted my cheek the one he'd hit too hard. "See? You can be useful. When you try."

He turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open. His footsteps echoed down the hall, then faded.

I lay there for a long moment, gasping.

Then I staggered to my feet, every movement agony, and gathered the cleaning supplies. The servants passed me in the hallway. Not one of them looked at me. They'd learned not to get involved. Everyone had.

The Alpha's office was down the corridor. I pushed the door open with my shoulder and stared at the massive desk, the shelves of books, the windows that needed washing.

It would take hours.

I lowered myself to my knees, ignoring the scream of protest from my ribs, and dipped the rag into the soapy water. And I cleaned.

I wasn't exactly like this.

Five years ago, I used to be the pack's favorite. I used to be my father's little star. He'd play with me in the garden, twirling me around until I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. My mother would braid my hair and call me her sunshine, kissing the top of my head.

Then tragedy struck.

It had been a normal day. Just like a hundred other days. I was thirteen, restless, bored. A new shop had opened in the human world-a little boutique with colorful dresses in the window. I'd begged my mother to take me there. And we'd gone. We were laughing in the car when the rogues attacked. They came out of nowhere. Feral. Maddened. Ten of them, maybe more. My mother threw herself in front of me to shield me.

And when the dust settled, she was gone.

I closed my eyes, and the memory hit me like a physical blow.

My father's face when he'd arrived at the scene. Pale. Shattered. I was just a child, but he looked at me like I was a monster. He never said the words, but I saw the blame in his eyes every single day after.

If you hadn't begged her to take you...

That day, I lost more than my mother.

I lost my wolf.

And a year later, my father remarried.

Victoria swept in like a queen claiming her throne. She was beautiful and cunning and ruthless, and she brought her two children with her: Tyler and Delilah. They became the pack's darlings while I became its ghost.

But my mother had given me one thing before she disappeared. A warning.

Always hide your scent, Brooklyn.

I never understand why. I never asked. I only knew my mother had begged me to do it and I obeyed. Some days I hoped she'd return and explain everything.

By the time I finished cleaning the office, I could barely stand and staggered out into the hallway. The mansion buzzed with activity-servants rushing past, pack members laughing and talking, the air thick with excitement.

Dozens of vehicles lined the driveway. The new moon celebration was one of the most important events in our pack's calendar-where unmated wolves find their fated mates. Every Alpha in the region would be here, along with their families and warriors.

I tried to slip past unnoticed, but a voice stopped me.

"Brooklyn."

I flinched at the voice. Edward, my father's Beta, approached with that familiar condescending look on his face. His eyes swept over me with barely disguised disgust.

"Your father says you're to attend the festival tonight," he announced, looking down his nose at me. "And for the Moon's sake, do something about yourself. You look like a drowned rat."

I blinked. "I...I'm to attend?"

"You heard me. Be ready." He turned and walked away without another word leaving me standing there in shock.

My father. Wanting me at the celebration.

It made no sense. He'd spent years pretending I didn't exist. Why would he suddenly—?

I shook my head. It didn't matter. If my father wanted me there, I had to go. There was no refusing the Alpha.

My room wasn't really a room. It was an old closet the one they'd converted into servant quarters when I was demoted to an omega after Victoria had claimed my childhood master suite for Delilah.

On the cot was a dress.

I stared at it for a long moment. It was old. Tattered. Faded. There was a stain on the bodice that looked like wine, and the hem was frayed almost beyond repair.

Victoria's doing. Had to be. This was her way of humiliating me making sure I showed up looking like a beggar while her daughter Delilah sparkled in whatever designer gown she'd been gifted.

The hypocrisy was so staggering it almost made me laugh.

Then I put on the dress.

The great hall was a vision of extravagance. Crystal chandeliers blazed overhead, casting golden light on the pack's elite and their guests. Silk gowns and tailored suits shimmered. Glasses clinked. Laughter and music filled the air.

I slipped in through a side door, clutching a glass of wine I'd grabbed from a servant's tray. I kept my head down, moving along the edges of the room, trying to remain invisible. My cheap dress drew a few sneers, a few whispers, but I kept my eyes forward.

And then I saw him.

My father.

Across the room, he stood with Victoria, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, his head thrown back in laughter as if he hadn't a care in the world. He looked... happy. So happy. As if the woman he'd married hadn't spent years torturing his only daughter. As if the woman he'd loved-my mother-had never existed.

Did he even remember her? Did he ever think about the woman who'd vanished and left him with a daughter he couldn't stand to look at?

The pain in my chest was worse than any of my physical injuries.

I turned away, and then I smelled it.

My mate.

My soulmate, destined to be mine by the laws of the Moon Goddess herself.

The scent hit me like a freight train-rich and warm and intoxicating-and I gasped, my body jerking involuntarily. The wine glass slipped from my fingers, shattering against the marble floor in a spray of red that looked disturbingly like blood.

Every head in the room turned toward me.

"Typical. Can't even hold a glass properly."

"What a disgrace. I pity the male who ends up mated to her."

"Wolf-less, clumsy, and now she's ruining the celebration. Someone should throw her out."

But I didn't hear them.

I was already moving, following that scent like a moth drawn to a flame, pushing through the crowd with a desperation I didn't know I possessed.

Where? Where are you?

The scent led me down a corridor, away from the noise, away from the prying eyes. My feet carried me toward the bathrooms, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I pushed open the door.

And my world shattered.

There, pressed against the bathroom wall, was Caleb. The Beta's son, the most eligible unmated male in the pack. Tall, handsome, powerful. The very picture of what a she-wolf could want in a mate. His hands were tangled in Delilah's hair. His lips were on her neck, her throat, her mouth. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her gown bunched around her hips.

My mate. My fated mate.

And he was fucking my stepsister.