Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77: Burial

**~ Cyrius POV ~**

Day three.

It’s been three days of searching for Dahlia...and still, she’s nowhere to be found.

I’ve followed traces of her magic. Faint trails, flickers in the air, whispers in the wind. They always lead to something—a burned leaf, a twisted sigil etched into stone but never to her. Every time I think I’m getting closer, it all disappears like smoke.

And to make it worse... I’m traveling with babies.

No one warned me how exhausting this would be. No one said anything about diaper changes, sleepless nights, and random crying fits over absolutely nothing.

I can’t even remember the last time I slept for more than two hours. My back aches. My eyes burn—my patience... thin.

But still...I keep them close.

I’ve grown fond of them. Strangely.

Heather, for one, has a personality already. She doesn’t like being fed while lying down. She’ll scream bloody murder unless I hold her upright, facing me. And then there’s her brother still nameless, still observant. He doesn’t cry much unless she does, or when he’s hungry. He stares a lot. Like he’s thinking. Judging me.

We’re still in New Orleans. I know it’s dangerous. I should have fled by now. But something in my gut tells me Dahlia is still here. Her tracks though faint are rooted in this city.

And surprisingly... everything is quiet.

Cayden and Caspian haven’t launched a full-scale search yet, or if they have, they’re doing it quietly. No bounty hunters. No scent trackers. No wolfs clawing at my heels.

Just silence. Just me and the babies.

Like now.

I sat under a tree near the edge of the French Quarter, worn down and tired. The twins were curled against me...Heather was still wide awake, tugging at my hair like it was her toy, and the boy, already fast asleep in the crook of my elbow.

The breeze was warm. The streets hummed in the distance. For once, things were... still.

And then I heard voices.

A group of men passed nearby. Their conversation was light, casual, and I wouldn’t have paid them any mind if not for one word.

"Marcus."

My head snapped up. That name...

That was it.

That was the name Dahlia had mentioned to me when I first woke. Through my pain, through the haze of resurrection, she’d whispered a name..Marcus. I’d been struggling to remember it since. But now it echoed, loud and clear.

And then I heard the rest.

"Yeah, they’re burying him today. Alpha Cayden killed him and his last kid... brutal."

"Very brutal, to think he was the pack’s former beta."

My chest tightened. My pulse froze.

Killed?

Marcus... is dead?

I leaned forward, straining to hear more. My entire body went still.

"They said the rest of his family got locked up. The girl too. They’re all done for. Alpha ordered a public burial. Guess it’s happening in a few hours him and that little daughter of his."

My heart dropped into my stomach. Everything around me went cold.

I shifted the babies instantly, shielding their faces from the slanting ash-yellow sunlight. Heather whined in protest, but I ignored it. My arms tensed around them. I stood up. Fast.

Marcus was dead.

Dahlia said he was important. That someone named Marcus would help me get what I wanted. He knew things, secrets about the babies, about Hazel, about the Crescent bloodline.

And now... he was gone?

Murdered by Cayden?

I started moving..quietly but quickly, trailing the men at a distance through the streets. The twins bounced gently against my chest, but I cradled them tight. I couldn’t let them see too much. Couldn’t let the sun get in their eyes. Not now.

My mind spun wildly.

Why would Cayden kill Marcus?

What did Marcus know that got him executed?

I blinked hard and refocused. The men were heading toward a small square near the edge of town—a public cemetery built for pack warriors and honored elders. I followed carefully, staying among the shadows, avoiding every eye.

Heather let out a soft coo, still playing with the ends of my hair.

I glanced down at her, her little red eyes glinting like dying embers. She didn’t know what was going on. Neither did her brother. But they were part of this now.

They were the reason all of this was happening.

And if Marcus had died for them or Hazel then I needed to know why.

I needed to see his body.

I needed to hear what people were saying.

And maybe... just maybe, someone at that funeral would know where Dahlia had gone.

To my surprise, the men I was following led me to a barrier right at the center stone of New Orleans, the oldest and most sacred place in the city.

A crowd was already gathered there.

Dozens of wolves or maybe more.

Pack wolves stood in a circle, tense and armored. Spectators pushed toward the center, straining to see what was happening. The tension in the air was sharp electric. The type of energy that could only belong to one thing:

A burial.

At the center, two wolves emerged from the fog..dragging out not one, but two coffins.

Wait....What?

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