Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 131: _ You’re in Love

Chapter 131: _ You’re in Love

I grunted, laughing humorlessly. "So that’s what this is, huh?" I gestured wildly at Father. "You’re just using us as bargaining chips in some werewolf Monopoly game?"

My father raised a brow, unbothered. "It is called strategy, Axel."

"Yeah?" I let out a sharp breath. "It’s called selling your children, Padre."

He scoffed. "Don Diego’s daughters are of good stock. You are not suffering."

I gave him a deadpan look. "Oh, thank God. Here I was thinking I was being emotionally manipulated into a forced marriage for your financial gain, but no, I’m just getting a great deal. Phew. What a relief."

His eyes darkened a little, but before he could unleash another monologue on duty and sacrifice, I shook my head, standing my ground.

"I still want to take my time," I said firmly. "This is too much, too fast."

I expected at least a pause. A moment of reflection.

Instead, my father’s expression remained stone-cold. "No. This is happening."

I blinked. "What?"

"This is happening, hijo." His voice was final, his decision made. "You started this war. Now you must see it through."

My stomach knotted.

No.

No, no, no.

How was this spiraling out of control so quickly?!

My heart pounded, panic creeping into my bones. Was this what it felt like to be a victim of fate? To lose control of your own life?

I was going to make a vow to have my father jailed for life after I became the Alpha when I heard a delighted chuckle beside me.

And from whom was it?

Crazy Álvaro who was getting married to dumb Camilla, it was.

That fucking idiot.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Oh, hermano," he cooed, the smirk in his voice oozing sarcasm. "I never thought I’d live to see this day."

I slapped his hand off. "Touch me again and you’ll never live to see another."

He grinned, utterly unbothered by my misery. "You know, when you challenged me, I thought it would be for dominance. For power. I never imagined you’d end up in a romance drama." He let out a low whistle. "This is so much better."

I glared. "Go choke on a silver spoon."

He laughed outright, shaking his head. "Oh, no, no, no. This is way too entertaining to be mad about. You, Axel? Forced into marriage? You?" He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "This is chef’s kiss perfect."

I turned to my father. "Can I kill him? Just a little?"

My father ignored me completely, already walking away. "I am rooting for you, Axel," he called over his shoulder, sounding more like a sports coach than a father currently ruining my life.

Rooting for me?!

For what?! My speed run into marital misery?!

I watched him approach Álvaro, probably to discuss something deeply unethical about our futures.

Just then, a blur of floral perfume and excited energy barreled into my side.

My mother.

She grabbed my hands, her eyes sparkling with uncontained joy.

"Oh, mi amor," she gushed. "I am so proud of you!"

I blinked at her. "For what?"

"For finally choosing Rosa!" She clasped my hands tightly. "Oh, Axel, I knew you would settle down one day. I knew it! And Rosa is such a sophisticated woman, cariño. A true Luna. You are going to make such a kind, good Alpha together."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

I had so many things I wanted to say. But all that came out was...

"...what."

My mother, blissfully unaware of my horror, kept beaming. "And I just know you will be such a loving husband. So caring. So romantic..."

I nearly choked. "Me? Romantic?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! And Rosa will be the perfect wife. She’s classy. She’s elegant. And she has such an eye for decor..."

I was suffocating. My own mother was selling me into this. This wasn’t happening.

This could not be happening.

I was not about to marry the wrong sister.

And yet, my mother’s delighted expression told me exactly what my future held.

Hell.

Hell with fancy table settings.

And I was completely screwed.

I needed to lash out. I needed to take this out on someone. My eyes glared at my mother.

This woman—this blessed, blissfully unaware woman was actually happy. For me. Without my permission.

The audacity.

"How are you happy for me without my permission?" I deadpanned.

She tilted her head in that motherly, affectionate way that made me nervous. "What do you mean, mi amor?"

"I mean, did I tell you I love Rosa? Did I throw a party? Did I write it in the sky? Because I must have missed it." I threw my hands up. "What’s so great about me getting married to her that you’re out here acting like I just won an award?"

She squinted, clearly not expecting this level of resistance. "Well," she said carefully, smoothing out her dress, "being a leader means sacrifice, cariño. And sometimes... that means sacrificing love too."

Ah. There it was.

The grand speech. The ’love is for the weak’ speech. The ’suck it up and suffer’ speech. The ’you’re a pawn in a political chessboard, now smile and say gracias’ speech.

I fought the urge to scream.

"Why should I?" I challenged, stepping closer. "Why should I sacrifice? Why do I have to be the noble idiot who throws his life away for the ’greater good’?" I let out a mirthless chuckle. "Me, married? I hate commitment, Mamá. I hate it. If I were ever to get married—for any reason... it would be to someone I could at least tolerate."

She frowned, crossing her arms. "And why can’t you tolerate Rosa?"

Oh, here we go.

She straightened her back, all pride and poise, prepared to make her glorious argument about why Rosa was so wonderful.

"She’s sophisticated," she started.

I rolled my eyes.

"She’s well-educated."

I groaned.

"She comes from a powerful lineage, and—"

"—keep quiet!" I exploded, throwing my arms in the air. "Dios! Enough!"

She pouted her lips and winced.

I took a deep breath, trying to rein in my rage before I ripped the nearest decorative vase off the table and threw it out the window.

"Rosa is selfish," I bit out. "And you know what I can’t stand?" I jabbed a finger at my chest. "Selfish people. They remind me of him."

Yes, a reference to that night. That horrible night when my Father massacred his own brother’s family.

My mother studied me, squinting further like I was a text message she needed her glasses to decode I refused to look away.

I had spent my whole life trying not to turn into my father. Trying not to become the cold, calculating man who used his children like currency and killed whoever it was to fit his needs. And now, here I was, being traded off like livestock.

I wouldn’t do it.

She took a slow step closer to me, her hands coming up to my cheeks. Motherly instinct.

"Axel..." she said softly.

I tensed. "What?"

Her lips curved, just slightly. "You’re in love."

What?! In love?! Now, what sort of absurdity was this?!

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