A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs novel Chapter 26

{Elira}

~**^**~

The exam was set for 10 AM.

My heart had been pounding since dawn.

At breakfast, the food sat untouched before me, the steam curling in faint spirals I barely noticed. But finally, I forced myself to eat a little. I need the strength, I reminded myself, though every swallow felt like pushing down pebbles.

Alpha Cyprus’s warm gaze rested on me. “Good luck, Elira,” he said, his tone calm yet confident, as though he truly believed in me.

I tried to mirror that confidence. “Thank you, Alpha,” I whispered, managing a faint smile.

Beside him, Lennon and Rennon added softly, “You’ll do great,” and “Just focus, Elira—you’ve prepared well.”

Their words wove around my frayed nerves like gentle threads, holding me together.

Then, Luna Gwenith’s voice cut through, sharp as frost. “Wishing luck on failed people is pointless,” she snorted. “A failure will always remain one.”

The words sank deep, far deeper than I wanted them to. I lowered my gaze to my plate, my fingers clenching on my skirt beneath the table. My heart thudded painfully. What if she’s right? What if all of this is for nothing?

Just then, Alpha Cyprus’s steady voice broke the silence. “Luckily,” he said, each word deliberate, “Elira is not a failure.”

The weight in my chest eased, just a little. I drew in a breath, his quiet strength reminding me: I am not a failure. I’ve worked for this. I am worth more than her words.

Lennon and Rennon stood mid-breakfast, excusing themselves politely. Their warm glances reassured me, though their absence left an ache. I already knew today was busy for them—they had mentioned it quietly yesterday. So, it would be Zenon who would take me.

Part of me wished the brothers could have stayed. Being alone in Zenon’s silent, cold presence felt like walking barefoot on shards of glass. But how could I refuse? They’d gone to great lengths to arrange this. I wouldn’t let their effort be wasted.

After breakfast, Zenon stood, chair sliding back with a faint scrape. I rose quickly, following a step behind.

Outside, the black Jeep waited, polished to a perfect sheen. Zenon crossed to the driver’s side without a word, opened the door, and climbed in.

Then, lowering the window, he shot me a flat look. “Are you waiting for me to open the door for you?”

Heat climbed my neck. “N-no, sir,” I murmured, fumbling with the handle and slipping into the front passenger seat. The seatbelt clicked into place under trembling fingers.

The cool air conditioning washed over me, carrying a clean scent—sharp mint, layered over something quieter. It soothed me, just a fraction.

Zenon turned on a quiet radio station. Soft instrumental music filled the silence, though it did little to slow my racing thoughts.

Ten minutes into the drive, my nerves twisted tighter. My stomach churned painfully. I pressed a palm to it, swallowing back nausea, but it rose higher, clawing at my throat.

No, not now…

My hands shook. “S-sir… I think I’m going to be sick…”

His eyes cut toward me, brows drawing low. “Are you kidding me?” His tone was cold, but then his gaze sharpened, reading the panic in my face.

With a sharp breath, he pulled the car over onto the quiet roadside. The tires crunched gravel, the engine idling.

Tall black iron gates opened into a grand courtyard framed by stone paths and manicured lawns. Beyond, the main building loomed—a sprawling structure of dark grey stone, trimmed in deep emerald ivy that clung to its ancient walls like history itself.

Its high towers reached toward the sky, their windows catching the morning light, glinting like watchful eyes.

A gentle breeze stirred the banners hung on the tall posts along the path, each bearing the academy’s crest: a silver wolf against a dark green field.

Other smaller buildings dotted the landscape behind, their gothic arches and sharp angles giving the campus an old, dignified air.

Everything here seemed deliberate, carved from tradition and power.

My chest tightened at the sight.

’It really is… a prestigious place,’ I thought, ’Breathtaking.A place for heirs, nobles… for werewolves born into power.’

Yet somehow, standing here—even from inside Zenon’s Jeep—I felt a stirring deep inside, as if something quiet but stubborn whispered:

You belong here, too, Elira.

We passed a large circular water fountain at the centre of the courtyard, its marble wolves frozen mid-howl, water spilling gracefully around their paws.

Zenon drove around it, the car’s reflection dancing across the rippling surface.

Then, he slowed, steering into a neat parking bay under the shade of a tall, ancient tree.