The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

~ ÁTILA

I shut the Rolls-Royce door with a solid thud and stared at the Melrose house for a beat longer than I meant to.

Old timber. Darkened by time. Surrounded by trees that stood too tall and too close, like they were listening. Fog crawled along the ground in slow, lazy waves, refusing to lift.

I undid the top button of my shirt, irritated before I’d even stepped onto the porch.

Langford got out on the passenger side and moved around the car with that same precise, controlled stride she always had—like the world could be falling apart and she’d still walk in a straight line.

The cold hit my skin.

But the shiver that slid down my spine had nothing to do with the weather.

This was different.

Something inside me shifting. Warning. Pulling.

Instinct.

And I hated that I couldn’t name it.

“Something wrong, sir?” Langford asked.

I forced my jaw loose.

“No. Let’s get this over with.” I glanced at the house again. “I want to be back in Moonville early.”

“Yes, sir.”

We crossed the porch together. I grabbed the silver knocker shaped like a lion’s head and slammed it against the door hard enough to make the wood tremble.

The sound echoed through the house.

Pointless.

Any wolf in there would’ve felt me coming from a mile away.

The door creaked open.

Not Mrs. Melrose.

Not the father—the thick mustache, the tobacco stink, the kind of man who tried to act important until an Alpha walked into the room.

Instead, a tall blonde stood there, spine straight, eyes cold.

Elizabeth.

She swallowed like she’d forgotten how.

“Alpha Átila… it’s an honor to welcome you into our home. Please, come in.”

I didn’t answer.

I stepped past her, hands clasped behind my back, and let my gaze move through the sitting room like I owned it.

Wide. Warm. Fireplace burning.

Tea set out like a performance.

And then—

I caught it.

A scent.

Sweet. Warm. Thick.

Wrong.

Not the tea. Not the flowers. Not the perfume hanging in the air.

This was deeper than that.

This was… omega.

My body went still for half a second.

“Where are your parents?” I asked, voice flat.

Before Elizabeth could answer, another daughter in a red dress practically launched off the couch.

“Our father is traveling,” she said, too eager, too loud. “And our mother went—”

“Our mother stepped away for a moment, sir,” Elizabeth cut in fast, cutting her sister off with a look. “But she’ll be right back. Would you like tea? Or butter cookies? I made them myself.”

The girl in pink rolled her eyes so hard it almost made me smile.

Almost.

I looked at Elizabeth.

“You made them?”

“Yes.” She nodded quickly. “I did.”

I tilted my head, then let my eyes drop to her hands.

Clean. Perfect nails. Not a speck of flour.

I gave a quiet hum.

“I’m sure they’re as flawless as your hands,” I said. “Not even a crumb.”

The girl in pink let out a tiny laugh.

Elizabeth’s glare could’ve killed her.

I turned to the one in pink.

“So you made the cookies,” I said. “What’s your name?”

She blinked like she wasn’t used to being spoken to directly.

“F-Freida, sir. But… I didn’t make them. The maid did.”

Elizabeth snapped before she could stop herself.

“Shut up, you fat idiot!”

Silence hit the room like a slap.

Even the fire seemed to crackle quieter.

I looked at Elizabeth, surprised by the slip. That kind of loss of control didn’t belong in a “noble” house.

She realized it too. Her face tightened, then she forced a smile that didn’t look natural on her.

“My sister has no filter,” she said, voice shaky. “She was only joking. Of course we all know Maya does everything here. Excuse me, Alpha. I’ll bring your tea.”

She rushed off, heels clicking too fast, leaving embarrassment behind like smoke.

The other two girls stared at the floor.

Langford stood off to the side, unreadable as stone.

I sat down slowly, inhaling through my nose.

If I was going to choose a Luna from this house, I couldn’t afford a mistake.

A wrong mate didn’t just ruin a marriage.

It destabilized a pack.

“Sit,” I ordered.

The two remaining daughters obeyed instantly, backs straight, hands folded like they were posing for a portrait.

Elizabeth returned with a silver tray, pouring tea with careful movements, pretending nothing had happened.

Langford watched from the corner like a shadow.

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