Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One - Chapter 244

Chapter 244: Worried
Hailee’s POV

Dinner felt like a scene I was watching from far away. The table was set beautifully: silver lids, warm bread, bowls of soup that smelled like thyme and butter, candles flickering in the low light. The boys sat to my left, my mother across from me, Peter at the head. People spoke. Knives touched plates. Someone laughed at something Peter said.

I nodded when I was supposed to. I smiled when someone looked my way. I lifted my spoon and tasted nothing.

All day, I had tried Nathan’s number. Again. Again. Again. First, it rang and went to voicemail. Then it did not ring at all. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off or outside the coverage area.” I could hear that recording even over the clink of forks. It looped in my head like a bad song I could not shut off.

“Hailee,” Peter said lightly, “the stew?”

I blinked down at my bowl. I had been stirring the same corner so long the carrots had gone soft. “Oh. Right.” I put the spoon down and reached for the bread.

He watched me for a beat too long. Peter always knew. He could read my face like a map. But tonight, he did not press. He just changed the subject for the table and told a story about a trade convoy, and everyone laughed again.

I tried to anchor to the boys. Oliver was telling Grandma about the herb garden he had seen from the balcony. He said the mint smelled like cold rain. Oscar listened, quiet and sharp, eyes running the room like he was counting exits. Ozzy buttered his bread with way too much focus, then gave me the first half like a tiny peace offering. I squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back. It helped. It did not fix the way my chest kept climbing toward my throat.

“Are you feeling well, dear?” my mother asked softly.

“Yes,” I lied. “Just tired.”

Peter’s brow twitched. I felt his question from across the table: Do you want to talk? I shook my head a little. Not here. Not yet.

We finished. I barely tasted anything. I kissed the boys goodnight outside their room and tucked each blanket tight. Oliver asked if the party lady from last night would come back. I said no. Oscar asked about lessons tomorrow, his voice flat but practical. I said we would see. Ozzy asked if I would stay until he slept. I did. He was out in minutes, breathing soft, hair messy on the pillow. I could have watched him for hours.

I was halfway down the corridor to my room when a maid hurried around the corner. “Your Highness, there is a call for you on the house line.”

My heart jumped into my mouth. “Which line?”

“The private one.”

“Thank you.” I did not wait for more. I went fast, almost running, trying not to hope and failing anyway. It had to be him. He must have found a signal. He must be okay. He must—

I pressed the receiver to my ear. “Nathan?”

Silence for a blink. Then a different voice, smooth and cool.

“Ah,” Callum said, and I could hear the curl of a smile. “So Nathan and you have been talking.”

The hope fell through me so fast it left me dizzy. I closed my eyes and leaned my forearm against the wall. “Callum.”

“You sound very eager,” he added lightly. “Eager enough to say another man’s name into the phone.”

“I thought you were someone else,” I said. It came out sharper than I meant.

“I gathered.”

I took a slow breath. “How did you get this number?”

“The same way Nathan did,” he said, and for the first time, I could hear it—an edge under the calm. Jealousy. It flared and hid like a fish under dark water. “We are Alphas. We have ways.”

My head ached. I did not have room for this. Not tonight. “Why are you calling, Callum?”

He dropped the playfulness and sighed. “I wanted to speak to Oliver.”

“He is already asleep.” I glanced down the hall toward the boys’ door like I could see through it. “You should call back tomorrow during the afternoon. He will be rested then.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asked after a small pause.

“No,” I said, and then I softened it because part of me was, but not for him. “I am not angry. I am just not in a good mood. Please, can we talk tomorrow?”

Another pause. “Of course.” His voice gentled. “Hailee?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever it is, I hope it is nothing.” He waited. “You will call?”

“I will,” I said and hung up before I could say the wrong thing to the wrong man at the wrong time.

I stared at the handset in my palm, then set it down and grabbed my cell from the nightstand. My thumb knew the path to Nathan’s name without my eyes. I called. Straight to voicemail. I called again. Off. Again. Off.

I stood up, sat down, stood up again. I walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside.

“What if something was wrong?” I told myself as different scary scenes filled my thoughts.

“Stop,” I told myself out loud. “Stop thinking that. Nothing is wrong with Nathan. Maybe he is just too busy.” But I knew that was a lie. Nathan would not leave me hanging after what had happened. At least he could have called to let me know everything was fine. So that meant something was definitely wrong.

I could ask Peter for help. He had resources, routes, and messengers. One call from him and I would get the information I wanted. But it would bring questions, and the last thing I wanted was to answer to Peter.

No. Wait. He will call.

I put the phone on the bed. I could not sit. I paced. I drank water and then could not swallow. I tried to read an old book from my shelf and saw only soup-colored words sliding on a page. I told myself to rest. I lay down and felt every nerve in my body stand on tiptoe. I got up and folded a blanket that did not need folding. I went to the window again and touched the cool glass with my forehead.

The clock on the mantle clicked in a straight, steady line. The room felt too large. My skin felt too small. I tried his number again. Off.

The minutes turned sticky. The night slowed.

I checked the boys again. They were sleeping peacefully.

Back in my room, I tried Nathan again. Off. I sat on the carpet at the foot of my bed, phone in both hands, elbows on my knees, head down. A thousand pictures crowded in: his face going blank and alert, the sharp bark from the yard, the sound of distant paws in dirt, the way his voice had shifted from warm to command in one breath. Something had happened. Not a big thing, maybe. A border scuffle. A rogue wolf near the fence. Things Alphas handled every day.

But his phone was off.

What if he had dropped it? What if it was broken? What if he had shifted and left it on the bench and patrol had pulled him away? There were simple answers. There were always simple answers if I would just choose them.

I tried to choose them. I failed.

“Enough,” I whispered, and stood so fast my knees protested. I grabbed my robe and wrapped it tight over my nightgown. I would ask Peter. I would swallow pride and nerves and ask him for help.

Then suddenly the phone rang.

I froze mid-step. The tiny screen lit like a lighthouse in fog.

For a half second, I could not move. Then I stumbled to the bed, nearly knocking my shin on the frame, grabbed the phone, and squinted at it through a blur I refused to call tears.

Unknown number.

My mouth went dry. I swallowed and answered. “Hello?”

For a beat, all I heard was breath. Then a voice I did not recognize, male, firm but gentle. “Hailee?”

“Yes,” I said. “Who is this?”

“Forgive the hour. I am Alpha Nathan’s Beta.”

Every muscle in my body drew tight as a pulled thread. “Is he all right?”

A pause. “He is alive,” he said.

My knees went weak. I sat down on the edge of the bed so I would not fall. I held the phone very tight. “Tell me what happened,” I said. My voice shook. I tried to make it stop, but it did not.

“There was a border breach,” he said. “Rogues came through the east fence. Alpha Nathan went to the yard to meet the patrol. There was a fight. The rogues are down now.”

“Down,” I repeated. “Dead?”

“Yes,” he said. “Dead.”

“And Nathan?” I asked. I could not keep the fear out of my voice. “How hurt is he?”

“He is awake,” he said. “He is talking. He has deep cuts on his shoulder and side. He is bleeding less now. The healer is with him. He is stubborn.”

A small, broken laugh left me. “Of course he is.”

“Hailee,” he said, a little softer, “he wanted me to tell you he is fine.”

“He is not fine,” I said. “But thank you.”

There was a quiet beat on the line. “He wanted to know if you are still coming tomorrow with Oscar?” he asked.

I did not even think about it. “Yes. We are.”