Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother

I stared at my father, waiting—praying—for him to say just kidding, or relax, hijo, I was just messing with you.

But of course, he just stood there, arms crossed, looking smugger than a cat that just knocked a vase off the table.

I rubbed my temples. "What sort of verdict was that?" I asked, exasperated. "That doesn’t even make sense!"

My father raised a brow. "Explain."

I gestured wildly, as if that would somehow make him understand the sheer stupidity of what he’d just said. "You don’t just get married for the sole purpose of producing children! This isn’t medieval Spain! What’s next? You’re going to start arranging marriages between infants so they can secure alliances for the pack?"

"Axel." His voice dropped in warning, but I was too far gone to care.

"No, seriously," I continued, pacing now, "what if I don’t even like Rosa? What if she doesn’t like me? What if..."

"You think you get to have a normal life?" my father cut in with a death tone. "You are my son. The Alpha’s son. That means your life is about duty, not personal preference."

I let out a short laugh, feeling like I was hearing the most absurd thing of the season. "Oh, so we’re just throwing free will out the window now?"

My father pointed a finger my way. "You lost the right to ’free will’ the moment you decided to challenge your brother."

I was about to argue when Álvaro, who had been oddly silent... probably from the brain damage I’d given him—suddenly stepped forward, straightening his shirt.