Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One - Chapter 245

Chapter 245: Leaving
Hailee’s POV

I did not sleep.

I tried. I really tried. I turned off the lamp and lay down. I closed my eyes and counted my breaths. I made myself count to one hundred. I told myself that the Beta had said Nathan was alive. I told myself the healer was with him. I told myself the bleeding had slowed. I told myself he was stubborn and would not give up. I told myself all these simple things like small stones I could hold in my hands.

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw him on the ground. I saw blood on his shoulder and side. I saw his mouth open like he was trying to breathe and could not.

I sat up and turned on the lamp. I stood. I sat. I stood again. My legs felt like they had little engines in them. They would not be still. I went to the window and pressed my forehead to the glass. The night was heavy and quiet. The lanterns along the paths glowed like tired stars. Somewhere an owl made a soft call. I could not answer it. I could only breathe and try to stay calm.

I picked up my phone. I typed a message to the Beta. Then I deleted it. I did not want to seem foolish. I did not want to seem weak. I set the phone down. Then I picked it up and typed again.

“Please tell him I am thinking of him,” I wrote. “Please tell him I will come with Oscar in the morning if Peter allows it.”

I stared at the words. Then I pressed send.

There was no reply for a long time. I put the phone on the bed and lay on my side, facing it, like it was a person keeping me company. I watched the dark screen. I watched the small clock in the corner. I waited. Every minute stretched like gum.

At last, the phone buzzed.

“Message received,” the Beta wrote. “He is sleeping now. I will tell him in the morning.”

I breathed out. It did not make me calm, but it kept me from shaking apart. I typed “Thank you” and put the phone down again.

I poured a glass of water. I held it in both hands and took small sips. The water sat in my mouth and felt like a stone. I swallowed anyway. I sat on the carpet with my back against the foot of the bed. I hugged my knees. I told myself a story about the time Peter and I hid in the south corridor with pastries we stole. I told myself about Mother laughing in the orange orchard. I did not think about Father. I pushed that door closed with both hands.

The hours crawled. The sky began to lighten, just a little. The dark blue turned to a softer blue, like the inside of a shell. Birds began to wake. My eyes burned, but I could not close them. When sleep finally came, it was like falling into a hole. It lasted only a few minutes. I woke with a start, heart jumping, because the phone buzzed again.

“Dawn report,” the Beta wrote. “Fever low. Wounds dressed. He asked if you slept.”

I stared at that last line. I did not know if I wanted to laugh or cry. “Tell him yes,” I wrote, because I did not want him to worry. Then I added, “Tell him I will see him soon.”

I put on my robe. I washed my face with cold water. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were swollen. My mouth was tight. I pressed my fingers to my cheeks until they turned pink. I combed my hair back and tied it with a simple ribbon. I was going to Peter.

The house was quiet. The halls smelled like clean wood and faint smoke from the morning fires. I walked quickly, but my steps were silent. I knew Peter woke early to read and write before breakfast. I went to his room and stood at the door for a second. I made my hands stop shaking. Then I knocked.

“Enter,” he called.

I opened the door. The room was neat, as always. The curtains were open to the pale morning. There was a stack of papers on the desk and a cup of tea with steam rising. Peter sat in a robe with a book in his hand and glasses on his nose. He looked up, and in one second, he saw all of me.

“Hailee,” he said softly. He took off his glasses. “Come in.”

I closed the door and stood by it. “I need to tell you something,” I said. My voice wobbled. I took a breath. “Oscar and I are leaving for Nathan’s place. We will be back in three days. Nathan wants his mother to see Oscar.” I swallowed. “And Nathan is hurt.”

Peter went very still. “Hurt how?”

“Rogues at the east fence,” I said. “He got injured by a poisonous arrow. He is alive. The healer is with him. He has deep cuts. The bleeding has slowed. He is stubborn.” My mouth twisted. “You know him.”

Peter set the book down. He leaned back in his chair and studied me. He did not speak for a few breaths. Then he said, “No.”

The word hit me like a door closing.

“Peter,” I said, stepping forward. “Please.”

“No,” he said again, quiet but firm. “It is not safe. There were rogues last night. You will not walk into that danger with Oscar.”

I held myself steady. “We will not walk. We will use the private jets with guards. We will be careful. Please.”

“No,” he said, and shook his head. “I will not risk you.”

“It is not just me,” I said. “It is Oscar. He needs to see his father. Nathan asked to see him. Nathan wants his mother to see him. He asked if we are still coming.”

Peter’s jaw tightened. “And you told him yes.”

“I told his Beta,” I said. “I said yes. I want to go. I need to go.” I searched his face. “Please, Peter.”

He stood. He came to me and took my shoulders in his hands. His eyes were kind and sad and sharp. “Tell me the truth, Hailee,” he said. “You love him. You still do.”

I opened my mouth to deny it. The word no rose up like a shield. It sounded silly even in my head. I felt the shield break into little pieces and fall to the floor.

“I do not want to talk about that,” I said, while looking away.

He looked at me for a long, long second. Then he sighed. “Fine,” he said. “You may go.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You may go,” he repeated. “Three days. If you are not back by the end of the third day, I am coming to get you myself with twenty men. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “I hear you.”

“You will take four guards, not two,” he went on. “You will use our private jet. You will send word when you arrive. You will send word each night before you sleep.”

I nodded. “Yes. I will do all of that. Thank you.”

He pulled me into a brief hug. It was warm and steady and smelled like tea and paper and soap. “You are shaking,” he murmured.

“I did not sleep,” I said.

“I can see that,” he said. He let me go and touched my cheek. “Three days, Hailee.”

“Three days,” I said.

I went straight to the boys’ room. I could hear them before I opened the door. There was a thump and a laugh and then a high, happy squeal. I stepped inside and saw pillows flying. Oliver and Oscar stood on the beds like small kings. Ozzy was on the floor, using a blanket like a shield. Feathers floated in the air like tiny clouds.

“Stop, you wild things,” I said, but I was smiling.

They froze, then burst into giggles. “Pillow war,” Ozzy said proudly.

“I can tell,” I said. “Put the pillows down. I need to talk to you.”

They put the pillows down. Their hair stuck up in soft spikes. Their cheeks were pink. Their eyes were bright. I looked at them and wished I could split myself into three. I wished I could be with each of them all the time.

“I have to go to see Oscar’s father,” I said. “There was trouble at his borders, but he is all right. We are going to visit him for three days. His mother wants to see Oscar too.”

Oscar’s mouth fell open. He let out a small happy sound and tried to keep it in, like he was not sure if he was allowed to be happy. “Really?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “Really.”

Oliver’s smile faded. He looked down and then up again with a face that was trying to be brave and grown. “So you are choosing Oscar’s dad,” he said. The words came out flat. They landed between us like a stone.

My heart squeezed. “No,” I said gently. “I am not choosing one father over another. I am choosing to let Oscar see his father because his father was hurt and asked to see him. If it were your father, Oliver, and he was hurt and asked to see you, I would take you. If it were your father, Ozzy, I would take you. I love you all. I do not choose one over the other. I choose each of you when it is your turn to need me.”

Oliver looked at me with eyes that were older than they should be. “It always feels like it is Oscar’s turn,” he said softly.

I went to him and sat on the edge of the bed. I took his hand. “I know it feels like that sometimes,” I said. “It feels like that because he is in danger more often. But I see you, Oliver. Your turn matters too. Your turn comes too. I promise.”

His mouth wobbled. He pulled his hand away and wiped his eyes quickly, like he did not want me to see. “Okay,” he said, but the word was small.

Ozzy climbed onto my lap without asking. “Can I come too?” he asked, hopeful and fearful at the same time.