Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68: Adventure

**~ Cyrius POV (Continued) ~**

But even though I wanted to search for them... where would I even begin?

I had no idea where Dahlia could be. I didn’t know her movements, her hiding places, or even who she trusted. The only place I’d ever seen her was the one I’d just come from...the cave where she found me, where I had been daggered and locked away for years in that damned coffin.

She came with a wolf that night. A male.

I didn’t get a good look at him then, the pain had blurred my vision, but something about his scent felt familiar. Sharp. Old. Like the forest. I’d smelled that before. Maybe he was an elder from my own pack... or a traitor from another. But even that was just speculation.

The truth is...I was grasping at straws.

Where the hell was I supposed to look for a centuries-old witch who vanished like mist and spoke in riddles?

I glanced down at the babies in my arms tiny, helpless, and now sleeping. I couldn’t go trekking through woods and shadowy paths with two newborns dangling from my arms like luggage.

Something had to change. I looked around. The place was barren—just trees, roots, and earth. I scanned the area for anything, anything, that I could use. Maybe a cloth, a wide-enough piece of fabric, something I could tie around myself and carry them with.

Nothing. Just the thin little sheets their mother had wrapped around them after giving birth. Still warm from her body. I swallowed hard at the memory.

Then my eyes landed on a nearby tree—with leaves the size of my forearm.

I walked over, grabbed one of the enormous leaves, and used my claws to carefully cut a few more. With some strong vines hanging from nearby branches, I fashioned a sling of sorts...wrapping the babies securely against my chest and tightening the vines across my shoulders. It was makeshift. Crude. But it worked. The leaves were strong and wide enough to cradle both of them, their small faces peeking out against my skin.

I exhaled. "There," I whispered. "Now we’re ready."

I looked down at them. "So... we’re going on an adventure, little ones."

I reached for more coconuts and cracked them open with my hands, scooping the water into a wooden shell and pressing out the soft pulp again. I didn’t know how long we’d be out here. Didn’t know when Dahlia would appear. But one thing was clear—these babies needed to be fed. And until something better came along, coconut milk would have to do.

"You’ll feed on this for a while," I muttered, half to them, half to myself. "At least until I find that damn witch."

They didn’t respond, obviously..But I kept staring.

"You’ll need names," I added after a moment. "Can’t just keep calling you ’girl’ and ’boy.’"

I turned to the girl, nestled gently against my chest. Her little hands were curled like rosebuds. Her mouth slightly open. Peaceful.

There was something about her stillness. It reminded me of her.

Her strength, her quiet fire. The softness she wore like armor. The girl looked exactly like her, and the longer I watched her sleep, the more it tugged at me.

"You look so much like your mother..." I whispered.

Then the name just dropped from my lips like it had been waiting in my throat.

"I’ll name you Heather."

It sounded like Hazel. Felt like her, too.

Sweet but strong. Like a flower that grows through stone.

I brushed her cheek gently. "Heather," I repeated. "Yeah... that’s it."

Then my gaze shifted to the boy. Still awake. Still staring at me like he knew everything I’d done, like he was judging me from the second he opened his eyes.

His glare could rival mine and that was saying something.

He had the same jawline, same brows as his father. The kind of face that drew attention. The kind that people followed. And those eyes Hazel’s eyes...burning into me like I owed him the world.

I sighed and raised a brow at him. "What do I call you, huh?

"What?" I muttered, adjusting the wrap. "Don’t give me that look. I’m your uncle. You better hold that in respect, young man."

I chuckled under my breath.

"Caden? No. Aiden? Too soft. Cyrus? Well we will decide later.."

And then... the adventure began.

I had made sure everything was intact—the makeshift sling, the coconuts pressed into milk, the twins snug against my chest—and with no destination in mind except away, we started walking. Hours passed.

The sun sank. Shadows deepened. My legs burned. And then, by some twist of fate or perhaps Dahlia’s lingering magic!we were back at the edges of New Orleans.

Back in the streets I once walked freely. Before the coffin. Before the betrayal.

I pulled the hood of my jacket low over my face. I needed a good cover now. I knew it...Cayden and Caspian would have wolves out in packs, sniffing through every alley, every corner, desperate to find me and the babies. And if they caught me before I was ready? I’d lose everything.

But before I did anything else—I needed a damn drink. I hadn’t eaten since I clawed out of that cursed coffin. My stomach was growling louder than the newborns.

I turned into the restaurant next to what used to be my favorite bar. It looked different now—" painted over, renamed, but the bones were the same.

I stepped inside and sat down.

The bartender, a young woman with caramel-toned skin and a braid hanging over one shoulder, glanced at me. Her expression was indifferent....until her eyes dropped to the bundle of leaves wrapped against my chest.

I could feel her confusion. Her discomfort. But I didn’t care.

I sniggered and raised two fingers. "Two beers."

Money.

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