Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers - Chapter 206

Chapter 206: Triplets in danger.
*~Caspian’s POV~*

The three of us were still here—wherever “here” even was. Heaven, hell, or some purgatory suspended between the two, it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that we were stuck. Seven endless days had bled into one another. Seven days without food, without water, without even a breeze to tell us time was moving.

Cyrius had dozed off again, his head slumping to the side, fangs barely showing against his pale lips. Cayden had pulled him close, sitting by the fireplace—not that it gave warmth, only a cruel illusion of comfort. I sat apart from them, watching the flames dance like mockery.

We’d been here since the moment Hazel last saw us. She’d glimpsed us on the fourth day; after that, nothing. We’d been alone for six more days, our hope fraying like old rope.

There was no food. No water. No escape. The only thing we had was each other—and even that was starting to crack. My wolf clawed at the inside of my skin, starving. Cayden’s wolf had gone quiet. And Cyrius… Cyrius was something else entirely. He was a vampire, and his hunger was sharper, darker.

“Caspian,” Cayden’s voice cracked the silence. He was looking at me, his eyes heavy with worry. “Cyrius isn’t… normal. Look at his face. His color’s changing. I think he needs blood.”

I pushed myself up, crossing to them. “There’s no human blood here for him to drink,” I said, though the words felt useless.

“He’s dying,” Cayden whispered.

“He can’t die,” I muttered back, crouching next to Cyrius. “Vampires don’t die. Not like this.”

But even as I said it, I saw the tremor in Cyrius’s hands, the sunken look in his eyes. Hunger had turned him fragile. He looked like a ghost.

“We’re all hungry,” I said, but my voice felt hollow. “My wolf is starving. Yours too. But he has it worse.”

Cayden stared at Cyrius for a long second, something flickering in his gaze. Once, not long ago, he’d wanted to rip Cyrius’s head from his neck. Now he looked at him like a brother. And then, before I could stop him, Cayden bared his own wrist and sank his teeth into it.

“Cayden—what the hell are you doing?” I lunged forward.

“Giving him my blood,” he said through gritted teeth, as crimson welled up.

“You’re not human. Your blood won’t help him.”

“It’s still blood.” He shoved his bleeding wrist at Cyrius’s mouth. “I don’t care if it kills me. My brother needs blood.”

Cyrius’s eyes fluttered open as the scent hit him. He latched on, gulping greedily. Cayden’s body tensed with pain, biting his lip so hard it bled too.

When Cyrius came back to himself, he shoved Cayden’s arm away, coughing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are you doing?” His voice was hoarse. “Why would you do that?”

Cayden cradled his wrist, the wound gaping and not healing, his body too weak to mend.

“You’re not even healing,” I snapped, tearing my shirt to wrap his arm. “Why would you be so careless?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Cayden hissed.

“Why shouldn’t I worry?” Cyrius rasped, his voice low and furious. “You should be thankful I drank your blood? I didn’t ask for it.”

Cayden gave a breathless laugh. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“I was alive before,” Cyrius muttered, but the tension in his shoulders softened.

“Guys,” I said, stepping between them, but they both shot me looks of exhaustion and despair.

“Is this how we’re going to die?” Cayden asked, and laughed again, bitterly.

Cyrius surged to his feet, eyes burning. “Mother Nature!” he roared at the empty sky. “Is this your plan? Starve us to death? Make us eat each other?”

“We’re not going to eat each other,” I said.

“Then what was your hand doing in my mouth?” Cyrius shot back.

He turned and shouted again, voice echoing through the endless space. “Give us something! Kill us all! End whatever game you’re playing!”

His fists clenched. His boots stomped the ground like he could wake some god up.

I raised a hand. “Cyrius, sit down.”

“No.” He shook his head, trembling. “I’ve been here seven damn days doing nothing but staring at you two. If Nature’s planning to kill us, let her do it already.”

“Hazel’s coming,” I said quietly. “She will kill Dahlia and bring the vampires. She’ll sacrifice them to Nature, and we’ll go home.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Cyrius said softly, breathing hard. “Even if they manage to kill it… how will they gather the vampires? I’m the only one who can control them. No one else can.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way?” Cayden asked again, voice thin from hunger. He stared at Cyrius as if the answer might be written in the pale lines of his face.

“No,” Cyrius said flatly. “The babies can—but Hazel will never accept it.” His eyes flicked to me, to the empty ceiling, as if he could will her presence into being.

“They’re still too young,” Cayden muttered. “Not even a month old. How can they control an entire army of vampires?” The words tasted hopeless.

“We should brace ourselves,” one of us said—more to fill the unbearable silence than because we meant it. “Prepare for death.”

“No.” I found the word before I could question it. There was a stubbornness in me I didn’t recognize sometimes, and it flared now. “I still have trust in Hazel.”

Cayden gave a short laugh that had no humor in it. “Then hold on to that trust, Caspian. Hold it like your life depends on it.”

“It does,” I said.

“Are you doubting Hazel?” Cayden’s voice snapped, soft but fierce.

“Never,” Cyrius answered without hesitation. “That woman is impossible. Remember the night before our wedding—she stabbed me in the back and vanished with the babies. And yet—” he swallowed, a crooked smile ghosting his mouth—”she loves me. She’s unpredictable, yes. But I would never underestimate her.”

“Then keep that hope,” I urged. “We need it.”

“Fine,” Cayden sighed. “A sliver of hope won’t feed us, though.”

“We’re starving,” Cyrius said, voice hollow. “That’s the problem that won’t vanish with prayers.”

We fell quiet, each of us listening to the same thing: the hollow tapping of time, the fire’s brittle memory, the ache in our ribs. Hunger made the silence louder, made every scraped breath feel like an accusation.

Then—like the earth inhaling and deciding to exhale—the sound from above started. At first it was a tremor beneath my boots, a subtle shiver under stone. Then the rumble deepened, rolling through the chamber like a low, angry beast.

“Mother Nature,” Cyrius snarled, lifting his face. “Is this your plan? You come for us now?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cayden snapped, but his voice trembled.

The floor beneath us groaned. Cracks webbed outward, thin lines racing toward the hearth where the fire stared back, indifferent. Dust fell like gray rain from an unseen ceiling. A fissure split the flagstones with a sound that made both our hearts jump.

“Get back!” I yelled, though I didn’t know where we could go. The room shuddered again, and the fireplace chimney rattled, spitting soot.

Cyrius seized my arm, eyes wild. “Maybe she heard your prayer—to end this game.”

“Hazel,” I whispered, the name like a prayer. Hazel, please. My throat closed around the plea.

“Shit,” Cyrius breathed. “Hazel—where are you?”

“Hazel!” Cayden shouted toward the ceiling. “If you’re out there—hurry!”

“Please,” I breathed. “Please make it in time.”