Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Rooftop pain

~ Cayden’s POV ~

Daggering my brother was never a choice.

It was mandatory.

A cruel, bloodstained necessity I’ve had to live with every single day for four years.

Cyrius wasn’t always like this. Gods, no. As kids, he was the softest of the three of us—the one who always tried to mediate, to patch us up after our fights, the first to laugh and the last to hold a grudge. He was the most excited about the prophecy, about the three of us taking the Alpha throne together.

He believed in the bond between brothers. In the idea of us.

But when the moon chose me—me alone—something in him snapped.

He didn’t just distance himself. He didn’t walk away. He turned rogue. Not in the traditional way—not with claws or violence or open rebellion. No, his betrayal was quieter. More venomous. He turned to the witches. To Crescent magic.

And if anyone ever finds out he’s still alive...

It’ll burn.

Everything.

The pack. The council. Our name.

And I’ll have to kill him. Properly this time.

The beer in my hand sweated in the night air. I stared out at the moon, trying to quiet the noise in my head.

Then Caspian landed beside me on the rooftop. He didn’t say a word. Just dropped down beside me like his spine had given up. His face was blank, but I knew that look. The way his jaw tensed. The twitch behind his eye. He was processing the kind of truth that changes a man forever.

I poured him a cup. He took it without hesitation.

One gulp. And then a scowl.

He coughed. "What the hell did you put in that, you bastard?"

I snorted, already feeling the heat in my limbs. "Look at my perfect Beta," I teased, "brought to his knees by one bottle of alcohol."

"Shut up and help me get up," he grunted, trying to push himself upright. He managed about two inches before sliding back to the floorboards.

I doubled over laughing. "We’re getting married tomorrow," I wheezed. "To our mates. And here we are. Puking on the roof and unable to move our limbs."

He glared at me. "You drugged the drink."

"In my defense," I said, raising a finger dramatically, "you took it from me. Voluntarily."

He reached over, grabbed my hand, then immediately yanked it away like I had thorns. "It’s not every day you find out your long-dead brother is actually alive, Cayden," he muttered, bitterly.

I sobered a little.

"Are we still hung up on that?" I tried to play it off.

His glare burned through me. I poked his side. His scowl deepened. Then, reluctantly, it cracked—and he burst into a laugh he clearly didn’t want to have.

It was brief. But real.

"I just need time," I said.

He nodded, staring into the sky. "Cyrius should remain there. For now."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full. Heavy with what hadn’t been said. Full of trust, too—trust that my brother, even in the face of betrayal, still chose to understand instead of condemn.

Eventually, the alcohol took over.

We didn’t talk after that. Didn’t move. Just laid there side by side under the stars, the world silent except for our slow breathing.

Two broken wolves pretending, just for one night, that the world outside this rooftop didn’t exist.

---

"Are you two serious?"

My father’s voice snapped through the morning like a whip.

I groaned. The sun stabbed into my eyes like punishment. My mouth was dry. My bones felt like bricks. I tried to move, but my limbs said no.

Caspian stirred beside me, groaning too.

"You’re getting married today, Cayden," Father snapped, pacing at the edge of the rooftop with his arms crossed. "And this is where I find you? Drunk? On the roof? What is wrong with both of you?"

Caspian struggled into a sitting position, his hair a mess, his shirt half untucked. "Father, I"

"You," Father interrupted, pointing at him. "You’re the Beta. The responsible one. I expect this idiocy from him," he jabbed a thumb at me, "but you? You were supposed to keep him in check. Are you now part of his stupidity too?"

Caspian didn’t answer.

I almost said it.

Almost blurted the truth right there.

That I had dropped a bomb on Caspian’s shoulders—resurrected a ghost that should’ve stayed dead. That this wasn’t a drunk night of wedding nerves, but the result of a decade’s worth of secrets boiling to the surface.

But I didn’t.

Because Father would never understand.

He’d rip the stake from Cyrius’s heart out of pure rage before hearing us out. He would make it worse. He would destroy everything we were barely holding together.

So I stayed quiet.

We both did.

We nodded, muttered half-assed apologies, and climbed down the stairs. Hungover. Sore. Sobered in the worst way possible.

We didn’t say anything as we parted at the bottom of the staircase. Caspian turned left. I turned right.

Weddings are supposed to be joyous, right?

Filled with laughter, proud parents, cheering pack members, and giddy anticipation. But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, tightening the collar of my ceremonial shirt, joy was the furthest thing from my mind.

I looked the part—the mighty Alpha, dressed in navy and silver, the same colors our ancestors wore when pledging to their fated mates. My hair had been combed back, a fresh cut to sharpen my already severe cheekbones, and my cuffs bore the crest of our lineage: a wolf biting down on a crescent moon.

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