[BL] Alpha, You've Got the Wrong Mate!

Chapter 336 — Love Doesn’t Chain

Enzo and Yusha departed shortly after receiving Zayden’s permission. Once again, stillness settled over the mansion. No servants spread rumours about the former guests, nor did anyone complain about serving strangers. Everyone went about their duties as if nothing had changed—quiet, efficient, satisfied.

Yet, for Ren, something had changed.

Zayden had hired a new personal assistant—giving someone else his place. And that fact alone was enough to stir unease in Ren’s chest.

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap, gaze fixed on the woman standing near Zayden.

She moved with ease, adjusting the alpha’s uniform, smoothing the fabric, and fastening the clasps with careful movements.

She was too careful.

Too close...

Ren told himself not to think too much of it.

She was merely doing her job. Still, his eyes followed every movement.

"Your armour is ready, my lord," the assistant said softly, lifting the final piece. Her voice was polite, respectful—nothing out of place.

Zayden hummed in response, distracted, already reaching for his gloves.

Ren’s fingers curled into the sheets.

Training camp.

That meant hours apart. Days, perhaps.

He watched as the woman stepped closer again, fixing a crease Ren himself had smoothed countless times before. A strange tightness formed in his chest.

...Was this jealousy?

Ren looked away at last, forcing his breathing to steady.

This is ridiculous.

He scolded himself.

Zayden was his. He trusted him. He had no reason to feel this way.

And yet, when the assistant smiled faintly and bowed her head, Ren’s gaze returned to her—quiet, sharp, and hostile.

He didn’t want to miss a single thing—any detail that could result in losing Zayden.

"What’s the matter with you?" Zayden asked, noticing his lover’s scowl as he headed toward him.

Ren’s gaze flickered to the alpha, then drifted back to the assistant, lingering there a moment too long. The hostility in it could no longer be hidden.

Zayden followed his line of sight. He didn’t need to think twice before understanding. He lifted a hand and waved dismissively.

"Leave us alone," he ordered.

The assistant bowed her head and exited without a word, closing the door softly behind her.

Silence hung in the hall for a long moment.

Zayden turned back to Ren, amusement flickering in his eyes as he stepped closer.

"Now," he murmured, lowering himself in front of him, "do you want to tell me what has you looking like you’re about to declare war?"

"She is..." Ren trailed off, lips pursed into a pout, brows drawn together.

Zayden froze for half a second—then had to turn his face away, shoulders trembling as he struggled to hold back his laughter.

Oh. So this was it.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, before reaching out and gently cupping Ren’s cheeks, thumbs brushing his soft skin.

"Careful," he teased softly. "If you keep looking at her like that, she might think you are the one declaring war."

Ren’s frown deepened, clearly unamused.

Zayden finally let out a quiet chuckle, leaning in until their foreheads touched.

"It seems my beloved is jealous," he said, voice warm, almost fond. "And... that is incredibly cute."

Ren stiffened.

"I am not." He argued immediately.

"Mhm," Zayden hummed, unconvinced. "Then why are you pouting like I have committed a grave sin just by existing near another person?"

He pressed a light kiss to Ren’s lips—brief, reassuring.

"There is no one else," he added softly. "Never has been. Never will be."

Ren’s pout faltered—just a little.

"You promise?"

Zayden nodded, doing his best not to laugh.

This man was unbearably cute. Cute in a way that made something deep in his chest tighten, made him want to shield Ren from everything—words, blades, fate itself. No matter what dared come their way.

The omega lifted his pinky.

Zayden blinked, momentarily perplexed.

"You want to make a promise like this?" he asked, a grin tugging at his lips as he wrapped his own pinky around Ren’s.

"Is it wrong to do so?" Ren murmured, gently curling his finger tighter.

"Of course not," the alpha replied easily, his smile bright and sincere. "If anything, I love seeing you care. That you are possessive of me. Just as I am of you."

He rose from the floor and settled beside Ren, close enough that their shoulders brushed, as if there had never been any space between them at all.

Ren leaned his head against the alpha’s broad, sturdy shoulder, eyes drifting shut as he let himself relax.

"By the way," he said softly, almost as an afterthought, "this time, Father said he will hold a wedding ceremony."

Zayden stiffened ever so slightly.

"For His Imperial Highness and Prince Rihaan?" Ren lifted his gaze, watching the alpha’s expression closely.

"Yes," Zayden simply nodded.

He didn’t look pleased. Not at all.

"Are you still unhappy?" Ren asked, wondering what the alpha was thinking about.

"I just can’t trust a man who has once broken my brother’s heart," Zayden replied, his voice low and firm. "What if he does it again? The thought alone boils my blood, Ren," he inhaled sharply.

Ren raised an eyebrow.

"And how do you know he did break His Imperial Highness’s heart?"

Silence settled between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Zayden had no answer to that. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, lowering his head slightly before stepping off the bed.

"We should get going," he said at last, reaching for the sword hung against the wall. "Or else we will return late and have Eiran worry."

The blade slid free with a quiet ring, and just like that, the conversation was over—left unfinished.

***

"Why did you do that?" Soren demanded, his voice sharp.

Oliver lay before him, soaked in blood. It didn’t take much for Soren to understand what had happened—Rihaan had tortured him, deliberately, thoroughly.

Soren knew it. And yet, a strange feeling twisted in his chest.

A man as strong as Oliver, a man who once held such a respectable position, was reduced to this. Someone like him had committed something so disgraceful, so vile. The contrast unsettled Soren more than the blood itself.

"Why?" Oliver snorted.

Soren’s brows knitted together.

"You still dare to laugh?" Rihaan snapped. After everything he had done to this man—after all the pain he had inflicted—Oliver still refused to say a word.

"Speak, or you will lose your life," Soren threatened, hoping to draw fear into his mind. The omega’s voice was cold—nothing like the one he used to speak to Oliver during training.

Oliver did not seem to care in the slightest. He laughed again, the sound hollow and grating as it echoed through the interrogation chamber.

Several guards stood close to Soren, shields raised, ready to protect the Crown Prince should the criminal attempt anything reckless. More soldiers were stationed at the exit, blocking every possible escape.

"Speak!" Rihaan barked. He brought his boot down hard on Oliver’s hand.

A dull crack rang out.

When that still wasn’t enough to draw a response, the alpha twisted his foot, grinding it against torn flesh in a futile attempt to force words from the man’s mouth.

Soren shook his head slowly.

Rihaan was being foolish and impulsive.

A man who could remain silent while bleeding like this would not break over something so trivial.

"Let him go," Soren ordered, and the alpha obeyed at once.

The Crown Prince lowered himself to Oliver’s level, his gaze filled with nothing but disgust.

This was the man who had tried to take him by force. The man who had dared to touch him.

For the first time in a long while, Soren felt the urge to hurt someone back.

He was kind—everyone told him so. And because of that, he had spent his entire life preserving that image.

No matter how irritated he became, he never allowed anyone to glimpse his aggressive side, nor the dangerous edge that surfaced when his anger was truly provoked. People often said he resembled an elf—gentle, refined, harmless.

But the truth was far from it.

Soren carried far more demonic tendencies than anyone realized. He had simply learned to bury them well.

Yet when his younger sister, Princess Siera, began to act like a true bloodthirsty demon, he understood something important: He could never allow himself to become like that.

"Tell me, Oliver. Why did you do that to me? What did I ever do to you?"

His voice lowered, unexpectedly soft. If force failed, perhaps gentleness would pry the truth loose.

"Oh, but nothing," Oliver chuckled hoarsely. "I simply love you very much, Your Imperial Highness."

His eyes gleamed with something warped. "And I hate seeing you used by the Emperor again and again. He keeps parading alphas before you—one after another," he scoffed. "Can you believe it? Why not just send me instead? I would have treated you so well. Unlike those bastards—"

His glare snapped toward Rihaan.

"Oh yeah?" Rihaan scoffed, narrowing his eyes. He drove his boot into Oliver’s stomach without hesitation. "Bullshit."

Oliver coughed, laughter breaking through the pain.

"Love?" Rihaan continued coldly. "You call that love?"

Soren’s fingers curled slowly at his side.

"Love," he repeated, tasting the word as if it were bitter. His gaze dropped to Oliver, sharp and unyielding. "Love doesn’t chain someone to the floor. It doesn’t silence their voice. And it certainly doesn’t excuse forcing your will onto another."

Oliver’s smile finally faltered.

"You don’t love me," Soren said quietly. "You love the idea of owning me."