The sound of the slap cut through the tense atmosphere like a thunderclap in a library. For a moment, the three alphas froze, their brains buffering as they processed what had just happened.
Caelian, in particular, looked like a man who had been struck by lightning while simultaneously being told his favorite coffee shop had permanently closed. His cheek wasn’t even red—yet—but the betrayal in his eyes was already painting a masterpiece of dramatic outrage.
Caesar’s lips twitched. He brought a fist to his mouth, shoulders shaking.
"Has she been awake this whole time...?" he whispered, voice cracking. "Just... waiting... like a spider in a web... until one of us got close enough to strike?"
He failed. Miserably. A snort escaped him.
"PFFFT—" He covered his mouth, but his eyes were CRYING with suppressed laughter. "She slapped our pretty boy. Right on his pretty face. Must’ve hurt his heart more than his face..."
Caelus, ever the professional, didn’t waste a second. He reached into his jacket with practiced efficiency, pulling out a small plastic bag containing a syringe filled with clear sedative. His movements were smooth, calculated—the motions of a man who had done this before.
"Get back. If she’s awake, we need to restrain her before she raises an alarm."
However, Caelian did not move. Instead, he turned to face his brothers, his movements mechanical, haunted. The handprint on his cheek was blooming now—a faint pink accusation against his skin.
He looked at Caesar, then at Caelus, with the exact expression he had worn since he was a toddler whenever something went wrong and he expected his brothers to fix it immediately.
The "I am suffering and you will make it stop" face.
"...She slapped me."
He touched his cheek gingerly, as if checking if his face was still attached to his skull.
Caesar snorted so hard he nearly choked on his own spit.
"She slapped me, Caesar."
"I heard you the first time, Caelian. It was beautiful."
"She hit me. In the face. I am an Alpha. I have killed men for looking at me wrong. And this... this drooling disaster just slapped me like I was a misbehaving house pet."
Then, slowly—dramatically—Caelian turned his head back to stare at Azura’s sleeping face. Eyes still closed. Drool still flowing like a peaceful river. She looked like an angel who had just committed assault.
And then—
Before anyone could respond—before Caelus could take another step with the syringe held like a holy weapon—Azura’s leg suddenly shot out in her sleep and connected firmly with Caelian’s side.
THUMP!
Caelian, caught completely off guard—because who expects a sleeping woman to roundhouse kick them in the ribs—went tumbling off the bed in a flailing, undignified heap. His legs ended up tangled in the bedsheets, his back hit the floor with a dull thud, and for a moment he just lay there, staring at the ceiling like a fallen soldier questioning his life choices.
"...???????!!!"
Caelus lunged forward instantly, syringe ready, muscles coiled to subdue a threat—when Azura’s voice cut through the chaos.
"Bad wolf, Cora..." Her words were slurred, thick with sleep, her face scrunching like she was having an argument in a dream.
"...it’s up to you if you want to somersault or hibernate... but can you not do it right now, but in a few days... give me a little time...? Not only are you kicking me in the face inside my head, you’re also causing me trouble because people are wondering why your scent is gone..."
After delivering that masterpiece of a sentence, Azura’s hand shot out again—this time connecting with a plushie duck next to her pillow.
The poor duck—which had probably been minding its own business, existing quietly as a decorative item—was instantly flattened into a sad, deflated pancake of fabric and stuffing. Its embroidered eyes now looked like they were silently begging for mercy.
"Take these kicks and punches, you trash wolf..." she muttered, her fist still embedded in the duck’s remains. "I’ll fight you in my dreams AND in real life..."
Silence.
The kind of silence that descends when the universe presents a moment so absurd that words feel inadequate.
Caesar was the first to break. Because of course he was.
"Did you guys HEAR that?!" He pointed at Azura with the enthusiasm of a man discovering a new species of wildlife. "She’s DREAMING about beating up her own wolf!! She’s having a full-on domestic violence session with her wolf in her sleep!! I’ve seen wolves fight their mates, fight rivals, fight their own reflection in a lake—but I have NEVER seen someone want to slap, punch, AND kick their own wolf!!"
"Caesar, that’s not the point," Caelus said flatly, finally shoving the syringe back into its plastic bag with an air of defeated professionalism. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"From what she said, it sounds like her wolf has been hiding. Sleeping. Suppressing herself. Which means right now, she’s practically wolfless. No wolf energy. No wolf presence. No wolf scent. No bond. Just... this." He gestured vaguely at Azura, who had started making grabbing motions at the air. "This chaos in human form."
From the floor, Caelian stirred. He was still lying flat on his back, legs propped up on the bed like a teenager who had given up on life, but his eyes had regained some focus. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his cheek where the handprint was now a lovely shade of pink.
"Hey." His voice was quieter now. More serious. "Do you guys think there’s a chance... that this girl is actually our fated mate?"
Caesar’s head snapped toward him so fast his neck cracked.
"What."
"I’m serious." Caelian sat up, rubbing his sore side where her kick had landed. "Think about it. That lingering scent on her body. We all assumed it was from someone else. That she’d been in contact with our mate, and the scent rubbed off. But what if it’s not that?"
Caesar opened his mouth to argue—to list the forty-seven reasons why this was impossible—but Caelian raised a hand to stop him.
"What if that scent is HERS? And it’s only ’lingering’ because the mate bond scent—the part of her that IS our mate—is still clinging to her because it’s part of her soul?"
"Absolutely not." Caesar shook his head with the conviction of a man refusing to believe in ghosts while a ghost was tap-dancing in front of him. "If she were our mate, her scent would still be here, clinging to her things! It would be in this room, on her pillow, on her—"
He stopped. His eyes scanned the room.
Perfume bottles. Body sprays. Scented candles. Aerosol cans. A suspicious bottle labeled "Luna’s Secret Fragrance (Extra Strength)."
If her wolf’s scent had been lingering before hibernation—it was now buried under an avalanche of artificial fragrance.
Caesar’s mouth snapped shut. His eye twitched.
"...We can’t smell anything in this room because it smells like a perfume store exploded."
Ryder, his wolf, let out a mournful howl inside his head.
’I don’t accept this. I REFUSE to accept that the woman who grabbed her own chest in her sleep is our fated mate. I will fight you on this, Caesar.’
I know, buddy. I know.
Caesar turned to Caelus, desperation creeping into his voice. "Caelus. Please."
"Please what?"
"Please tell me you don’t agree with him." Caesar gestured wildly between Caelian and Azura. "Please tell me you don’t actually think this crazy, dream-boxing, duck-punching disaster of a woman is our FATED MATE."
Caelus looked at Caelian. Then at Azura, who had now rolled onto her side and was mumbling something about "toxic wolves" and "bad management decisions." He stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable, his expression like a man calculating the odds of a very bad hand.
"...There’s actually a chance that what Caelian said is true."
Caesar made a sound like a dying whale.
"But," Caelus held up a hand, "we need to confirm. Our wolves can’t feel the bond because her wolf is in hibernation. That means no pull, no instinct, no confirmation."
"So what do we do?" Caelian asked, finally climbing to his feet, brushing off his clothes.
"We can’t trust our instincts when half the equation is missing." Caelus straightened his jacket, his decision already made. "We’re bringing her to our pack. Now."
He looked at his brothers with an expression that brooked no argument.
"With her staying with us, we can observe her. Monitor her wolf’s return. And when her wolf finally wakes up—if the bond snaps into place—we’ll know the truth."