My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 344

Chapter 344: Chapter 344 NUMBER ONE

SERAPHINA’S POV

Vidar was tall and broad-shouldered, with pale blond hair braided neatly back from his temples. Faint claw scars marked the left side of his face, pale against tanned skin.

It was easy to tell that he and Brynjar were brothers.

But in appearance only.

Brynjar was loud. Obvious. All brute ego and thin-skinned pride.

Vidar was...still.

His presence didn’t crash into a room the way Brynjar’s did.

His energy was contained and layered. No careless emotional spikes. No obvious insecurity. Just a dense, unreadable weight pressing against my senses like fog.

“Ms. Blackthorne,” he said smoothly, straightening from the wall to give me his full attention.

“Lockwood,” I corrected, just as smooth.

His lips twitched. “Ah, yes.” His gaze flickered behind me, and I didn’t need to turn to know that Kieran was behind me.

He didn’t speak or move close, but his aura filled the corridor like a storm front rolling in.

Vidar noticed too, and his posture shifted almost imperceptibly.

I bit back a smile. As tough and foreboding as he was, a Beta would always be inferior in the presence of an Alpha.

Vidar’s gaze fixed on me again, and it turned into a sneer as his eyes trailed up and down my body.

He...tsked.

“I expected more,” he said.

My brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Gossip is usually exaggerated, but the ones surrounding the wolf who bested my brother during the LST were very greatly so.”

Ah.

Wait till he saw Judy.

“And what did you expect?” I asked, arms folded, tone edged.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me as though I were a specimen under a microscope.

“Formidable,” he said. “Dangerous.”

His gaze dropped, slow and deliberate, to the slit in my dress—to the bare skin revealed there, then back to my face.

“Not some hussy relying on flaunting herself to leech off an Alpha patron. That’s how you won, isn’t it?”

The words landed like a slap.

The sudden jolt in the air was the only warning before Kieran exploded forward, body tensed to charge at Vidar.

But I shot my hand out and stopped him with a palm pressed tightly to his chest.

“You don’t fight my battles,” I snapped, still playing our new role. “You lost that privilege ages ago.”

I locked eyes with him, silently pleading for him to step back and let me handle this myself.

This was my confrontation.

I watched the war play out in his obsidian depths, and then his jaw clenched once, and he took a step back.

I heard a derisive snort behind me. “Cool trick,” Vidar drawled. “You have to teach me that.”

I closed my eyes briefly and took a long, calming breath.

Then I turned and smiled, as sweet and sharp as a poisoned dart.

“Narrow-minded men,” I said, “only ever perceive a narrow world.”

His brow twitched.

“If all you can see when a powerful woman stands in a room is who she might be sleeping with to get ahead,” I continued, “that says far more about you than it does about me.”

I tilted my head and matched his mocking look. “Or is your ego bruised because you’re not influential enough for someone to sleep with you for power?”

A faint hum of tension tightened the air, and Vidar’s copper eyes darkened.

“I loathe your type,” he hissed. “You wear righteousness like armor. But that façade cracks under pressure.”

“Bold of you to think your presence carries any kind of pressure,” I retorted.

He took a step forward. It was supposed to be a menacing move, but I stood my ground, tipping my chin up.

“You should be careful who you antagonize,” he warned, his voice low. “Shadow Claw doesn’t forget.”

I let my smile sharpen. “How is Brynjar, by the way?”

At the mention of his younger brother, a flicker of rage passed across Vidar’s face.

Good. He wasn’t the only one who could provoke.

“I hope he has a poster of my face in his room that he throws darts at.” I shrugged. “Although he’s so inadequate, I doubt he’ll ever hit the bullseye.”

Vidar lunged without warning, his movements so fast that a lesser wolf would have been thrown against the wall before realizing he’d moved.

But contrary to what I had believed all my life, I was not a lesser wolf.

Alina surged forward, reflexes fluid. I twisted sideways, heels pivoting on marble as I slipped past his reach.

His hand cut through empty air where my shoulder had been as I landed lightly two steps away.

But that was not what I let him see.

As I moved, I altered my psionic field—subtly compressing and releasing it in a brief pulse. Just enough to distort.

To imply that psychic intervention, not pure wolf instinct, had saved me. Alina’s existence was still on a need-to-know basis.

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