Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers - Chapter 222

Chapter 222: Pain.
Aurora’s POV

Fine!

If he wants to be stupid, if he wants to deny every obsession running through his head, if he wants to throw away everything we’ve built like it means nothing—then I’ll do the same.

I forced myself to stand. My legs were trembling, but I didn’t care. I stormed back into my room, trying not to wake my sister. She must not know I’m out of bed—she’ll lose it if she finds out.

I couldn’t sleep that night. Every single memory of him felt like a knife pressing deeper into my chest. The clothes he bought me. The necklace. The letters he wrote when he was away. Every one of them screamed his name, and I hated it.

“Versa,” I whispered, summoning the flames. The fire caught fast, dancing across everything we once called us.

But then—I broke. I fell to my knees as the fire crackled around me. I held my chest, trying to breathe through the pain. “Versa…” I whispered again, my voice cracking. The fire stopped instantly.

I stumbled into the smoke, my hands shaking as I grabbed what was left. The papers, the necklace—everything was ruined. Burnt. Gone.

I burned years of memories. Years of love. Years of passion. Literally, my whole life.

“Why?” I screamed. “Why would you deny me, Leon? Why would you throw everything away?”

My voice was breaking, my throat burning. “Is it because of some damn myth? Because I’m not a werewolf? Because Kayden and the triplets got mated to Hazel? Because she’s a Crescent?”

I stood in front of the ashes, tears mixing with soot on my cheeks. “Should I turn myself into a Crescent too? Then the pack will accept me, right? The council will finally see me as one of them?”

My voice fell into a whisper. “Maybe then, Leon… you will too.”

That was when my alter ego spoke to me. No, she whispered. You don’t have to change yourself for him to love you.

But another voice — colder, crueler — snapped back: Maybe you do. Maybe they’re right. Maybe witches are weak. Maybe what you had with him was nothing but a silly game.

Anger boiled in my veins until it drowned out every other thought. I clenched my fists, hating how much I still loved him. How much I still needed him.

I must’ve cried myself to sleep on that floor, surrounded by the ashes of us. But even sleep refused to be kind.

In my dream, we were still together. His lips brushed mine like I was made of something sacred. He smiled at me the way he used to, his voice soft, calling me the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

It was so real. Too real.

I jolted awake, gasping for air, my cheeks wet with tears. I couldn’t bear it anymore — the memories, the dreams, the ache.

Because even in sleep… he wouldn’t let me go.

It was morning, and I hadn’t slept a second. I just sat there all night, staring at the charred remains of everything I once called love. When the first rays of the sun brushed across the high house, the door creaked open, and my sister stepped in, her expression heavy.

“Your carriage is ready, Aurora,” she said softly. “It’s better we leave at dawn — before anyone sees you and causes more drama.”

I didn’t answer. I just nodded and rose to my feet, my body numb but my heart still screaming. I turned to pack, but when I looked around, I saw everything was already done — folded, sealed, and waiting. She’d packed it all for me. Probably last night, when I was too broken to move.

“I packed it yesterday,” she said, reading my silence. “When everyone went out for a walk.”

I just hummed in response, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Together, we carried the bags toward the hall.

But when the main doors swung open, my steps faltered.

Hazel stood outside with Lilith. Hazel had her twins in her arms, both wrapped in soft blankets. She smiled through the exhaustion, through the sadness. “I heard you were leaving,” she said quietly. “I wanted to let my babies say goodbye.”

That simple sentence — so kind, so casual — broke me in ways I didn’t expect.

I took Christian first, pressing a trembling kiss to his warm cheek. “Be a good boy for Mommy, alright? You’re the man of the house now. You’ll have to look after your little sister when she starts pulling everyone’s hair again.”

Hazel laughed softly. “Oh, he will. He’s already bossy like his father.”

I smiled through the ache. “He gets it from you.”

Christian gave me a small, toothless grin — as if he understood every word — before Hazel passed me Heather. She was giggling already, chubby fingers tangling in my hair.

“Ow,” I chuckled, gently untangling her hand. “You little troublemaker. You don’t even let people say goodbye in peace.”

Hazel grinned, but there was sadness in her eyes. “She knows. Somehow she always knows.”

I kissed Heather’s forehead, lingering a moment longer than I should have, then handed her back. “Take care of them,” I whispered.

“I will,” Hazel said, her voice trembling. “But… do you have to go?”

I didn’t answer that. I just smiled — weakly, tiredly — and she understood. Sometimes silence says everything.

Lilith stepped forward next, pulling me into a quick hug. “Be safe, sister,” she whispered.

Downstairs, the high house was empty. No pack members. No well-wishers. No goodbye.

My heart cracked a little more as I looked around that vast, echoing hall. The same hall I once walked through beside him. The same hall where he’d once told me I was his future.

And now… nothing.

Not even Leon.

He knew I was leaving. He knew. And still, he couldn’t even come out to say goodbye.

My vision blurred as I blinked back tears. Was everything we shared just a game to him?

I clenched my jaw, forcing the tears back. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction — not anymore.

I stepped into the carriage, the leather seats cool against my palms. Outside, Hazel was crying now — full, unrestrained sobs that shook her shoulders. Heather joined in, tiny wails muffled against her mother’s chest, while Christian stared at me with wide, quiet eyes that seemed far too knowing.

“Bye!” my sister called, waving with a shaky smile.

Christian lifted his tiny hand, mimicking her — his fingers wiggling in the air. Hazel couldn’t even wave. She was crying too hard.

I blew them a kiss, my lips trembling as the carriage lurched forward.

The carriage rolled on until the high house and then New Orleans were nothing but a smear of roofs in the distance. My chest ached with every mile — I hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Cyrius in France, nor to Cayden or Caspian. Maybe I’d write them a letter when I reached wherever I was going. Maybe words would mean more than the silence I’d left behind.

The wheels clattered over a bend and then the carriage stopped so abruptly my stomach dropped. “Hello? Is everything all right?” I called toward the driver. No answer. The only sound was the trees breathing around us.

Curiosity pulled me out of the carriage. I opened the door — and a cold weight hit me. The driver’s body slumped forward, an arrow black-fletched through his skull. Pinned to the shaft was a scrap of paper.

My fingers shook as I peeled it free. The message was short, ugly, and written in a jagged hand:

WE ARE WATCHING YOU.

Anger boiled beneath the surface, hot and bright. Someone was following me. Someone had decided to make their mark.

I shrugged off the heavy cape my sister had wrapped around my shoulders. Let them see the witch they were messing with. Let them remember the name Aurora Dahlia.

Then I heard it — low growls, like an answering chorus. Wolves. My skin prickled; the scent of fear and fur drifted through the trees. I knew packs. I knew how wolves moved. I knew their weaknesses.

They were everywhere. Three slipped through the brush to my left, four to my right, and two crouched in the shadow behind the carriage, waiting to pounce. Perfect. They thought me alone. They thought me easy.

I smiled.

“Versa,” I said, and the single word was a blade of heat.

The wolves froze, mid-prowl. Their bodies convulsed as invisible cords tightened around them. They howled — a sound cut short — and then bone and dust dropped where living things had been. I had bound them from the inside, collapsing their pack-magic like a rotten house.

The rest lunged. They surged forward in one terrifying wave, teeth bared and eyes glowing.

One of them peeled off from the front and shifted into human form, slick and ugly in the moonlight. “What’s a witch doing trespassing on Crescent land?” he snarled.

I dusted ash from my palms and smiled, cold as frost. “I’m passing through,” I said. “I don’t intend to visit. Witches don’t cross your borders alive, you say? Funny — your driver begged me to live two breaths ago.” I gestured to the bones of their fallen companions.

Their leader snarled. “You’ll not leave in peace.”

“Oh?” I tilted my chin. “Then you’ll die here.”