Chapter 53: Fated Mate

Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Fated Mate

Azura remained blissfully unaware that while she was knocked out cold, a fierce bloodbath had erupted for a solid half-hour—the kind of chaotic, bullet-ridden, bone-crunching action sequence that would make a Michael Bay film look like a documentary about gardening.

If she had been awake to witness the blood splattering across the pavement like a discount ketchup factory explosion, she wouldn’t have needed the male leads to sedate her. She would’ve grabbed the syringe herself and mainlined it directly into her jugular.

"I’m just a weak woman. Let the werewolves have their murder party. I’ll be over here, napping, and not dying. Thank you very much."

She was, after all, a weak woman. A fragile little flower trying to survive in this insane world. Getting caught in a crossfire between warring packs was not on her to-do list. She was barely keeping herself alive through sheer stupidity and luck.

And, of course, the Blackwood family won. Easily. They were caught off guard only because they didn’t expect a second wave of attackers to ambush them right after they’d turned the first group into a decorative crimson mosaic on the asphalt.

It seemed Aiden—their ever-so-generous enemy—had decided to share their location like a group chat invite to every rival pack within a hundred-mile radius.

[Come one, come all! Free shots at the Blackwood triplets! BYOB (Bring Your Own Bullets)!]

But now, the blood had been washed off, the bodies disposed of, and the private jet was soaring through the clouds, heading west toward the territory of the Midnight Hollow Pack and the Blood Pride Pack.

And Azura?

Azura was sprawled across a leather seat like a discarded ragdoll, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world, occasionally twitching in her sleep as if dreaming about something deeply offensive.

Next to her sat Caesar.

He leaned over her, his finger hovering near her cheek.

Then he poked her.

Poke.

Poke-poke.

Poke-poke-poke.

He turned to Caelian with the triumphant expression of a man who had just conquered Mount Everest with a spoon.

"Look, Caelian. Who says I’m afraid of her? See? I can touch her! I am touching her! We’re practically best friends now!"

Caelian didn’t bother responding with words. He simply rolled his eyes so hard they nearly performed a full rotation, pulled out his phone, and started recording.

No one would ever guess that the same man now poking a sleeping girl’s cheek like a toddler who found a squeaky toy was, just two hours ago, laughing maniacally while ripping through enemy throats with his bare hands.

"Alpha Caesar," Noah sighed from across the cabin, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please stop bothering her."

"But her cheek is soft like a—"

A meat bun.

The words hung in the air, unfinished, but Caelian caught them immediately. His grin turned sharp and predatory.

"What’s wrong, brother? Did you suddenly remember your first contact with boobs?"

Caesar’s face flushed a shade of red that could rival a fire truck.

"Shut your mouth before I replace your entire skincare routine with Oliver’s bathwater!"

From the seat behind them, the green-haired beta let out an indignant gasp.

"Why are you dragging ME into your stupid argument, Alpha?!" Oliver protested, sitting up straight. "I didn’t ask to be involved in this! I just work here! I have done NOTHING to deserve this!"

Wilson, ever the composed beta, calmly handed Oliver a glass of amber liquid before passing another to Noah. He took a slow sip from his own drink, savoring the burn, before speaking with the tired wisdom of a man who had seen too much.

"You’ve been their beta for two years, Oliver. Why are you still complaining? Your alphas will never change. They were born chaotic, they will die chaotic, and the only thing you can do is learn to accept the madness."

Oliver opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. He couldn’t argue. He really couldn’t.

Wilson then seemed to remember something. His expression shifted into one of grim determination—the face of a soldier preparing to share war crimes evidence with his comrades. He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and sent a video file to both Oliver and Noah.

"I just want to say," Wilson began, his voice heavy with the weight of a thousand sleepless nights, "starting now, you two should probably start booking appointments with a psychiatrist. Or a therapist. Maybe a priest. Hell, get an exorcist on speed dial while you’re at it."

Oliver blinked. Noah blinked.

"...What?"

"Because our future Luna?" Wilson’s eye twitched. "She is crazy. And chaotic. And I guarantee you she will drive every single one of us mentally ill within the month."

He gestured to the video he’d just sent.

"Watch. Witness. And weep."

Oliver and Noah exchanged a look of shared dread before quickly opening the video.

Wilson had been the one to witness the majority of Azura’s unhinged behavior. And since misery loved company, he had decided to share the evidence with his fellow beta and gamma.

Suffer with me, brothers.

The video began to play.

Somewhere in the background, Azura’s voice rang out, high-pitched and frantic, arguing with a bush about its life choices in her sleep.

Oliver’s drink paused halfway to his lips.

Noah’s eye started twitching.

Wilson simply took another long sip and closed his eyes in quiet prayer.

Meanwhile, at the front of the private jet’s cabin, two cold, stoic figures sat in silence. Caelus Blackwood appeared to be working on his tablet, his silver hair catching the dim light, his expression carved from stone. Kyler sat across from him, equally still, equally unreadable.

But both of them were listening.

Every word. Every poke. Every argument about meat buns and bathwater.

Finally, Caelus set down his tablet. The soft clink of metal against wood cut through the cabin’s noise like a blade.

"Uncle. We need to talk."

Kyler didn’t look up from his own tablet, his fingers scrolling through something with detached precision.

"I’ve been waiting for you to start talking for a while now."

Among his three nephews, only Caelus resembled him in any meaningful way—stoic, calculating, sharp. If Kyler were being honest, he sometimes forgot the boy wasn’t his own son. The other two, though...

Sometimes, Kyler regretted not leaving Caesar and Caelian at the circus all those years ago. They would’ve fit right in with the clowns

Now, with Azura’s chaotic energy thrown into the mix, he had a sinking feeling his two nephews would soon become even more unhinged. The thought made him want to pour himself something stronger.

Caelus’s voice cut through the silence again, measured and deliberate.

"So, is she truly your fated mate too, Uncle? When you confessed earlier, you said she’s your fated mate—’you think.’"

His eyebrow arched ever so slightly.

"That implies uncertainty. And you, Uncle Kyler, are never uncertain about anything."

Kyler finally looked up from his tablet. His dark eyes were unreadable—two bottomless pits that had seen too much and cared too little. His expression was carved from the same stone they used to build ancient fortresses.

For a long, agonizing moment, he said nothing.

The silence stretched like taffy.

Then, slowly, with the deliberate precision of a man who knew exactly how to make people uncomfortable, he set the tablet aside.

"Isn’t that just like you, nephew?" His voice was dry as autumn leaves. "When you explained to me that she was your and your brothers’ fated mate, you added the word ’perhaps.’ So you’re not sure either."

Caelus didn’t flinch. He simply inclined his head in acknowledgment, silver hair catching the cabin light.

"Correct. And I assume you already know why none of us are certain." He folded his hands in his lap. "With her wolf in a deep hibernation, it’s nearly impossible to confirm whether she’s truly our fated mate. There’s no bond. No pull. No cosmic ’we’re soulmates’ fireworks. We’re essentially guessing based on a lingering scent on her body."

He paused.

"A scent that may or may not actually be hers."

Kyler’s brow furrowed. He didn’t bother turning his head to look at Azura, who was still sprawled unconscious in her seat behind him. Instead, he angled his tablet screen, using it like a mirror to observe her pale, slack face.

"When she crashed into my car," Kyler began, his voice dropping lower, "shortly after impact, her body emitted a scent. My fated mate’s scent. And it was potent. Aggressive, even. Like it was meant to intimidate every wolf in the vicinity."

Caelus leaned forward.

"The problem is," Kyler continued, "at that time, her wolf was still in hibernation. It didn’t emerge. At all. So how did she release that scent? There wasn’t even a mate bond pulling us toward each other when she did it. And a few minutes later, the scent vanished completely, leaving her as scentless as a wolfless human."

Caelus’s eyes widened. His composed mask cracked, just slightly, revealing a flicker of genuine confusion. He looked at Azura with newfound uncertainty.

From the back of the cabin, Caesar and Caelian—who had stopped their bickering the moment they sensed serious uncle-talk—were now shamelessly eavesdropping. They, too, stared at the sleeping girl with matching expressions of confusion.

Caelus turned back to his uncle.

"Have you ever heard of a case like this, Uncle? Do you genuinely believe she is our fated mate?"

Kyler didn’t answer immediately.

He picked up his tablet again, stared at Azura’s unconscious face, then set it back down.

"No."

The word hung in the air like a guillotine.

"I think we need to consult the elders. But the problem is—if word leaks to the Council..."

Caelus pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache forming.

"Then let’s investigate ourselves first, Uncle. Since we’re already bringing her to our territory, we have ample time to observe her. If she truly is our fated mate, we will make her our Luna. If she isn’t, and she harbors no hidden agenda, we will release her."

He straightened, his expression hardening into something cold and calculating.

"But if she’s hiding something..."

His eyes glinted with a dangerous edge.

"Then she’ll learn exactly what happens to those who play games with the Blackwoods."