Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Don’t tell her!

*~Cayden’s POV~*

No one answered me.

"Answer me!" I roared, my voice shaking the walls of the house. "What the hell is going on?!"

Still...silence.

I looked around, my chest heaving, vision blurring. My babies were in my arms, their tiny bodies limp and cold, their faces already turning a pale shade of blue from decay. No breath. No pulse... not even warmth

I shook my head slowly, violently, as if denying it hard enough would make it untrue.

"No... No, they’re just sleeping," I whispered. "They’re just cold... They’ve been through a lot... they’re just tired—"

But even as I said it, I knew I was lying. Their skin had lost that new-baby softness. Their lips were a faded purple. Their fingers had stiffened. These weren’t signs of sleep. These were signs of death.

And still... I held them tighter.

I dropped to my knees right there in the foyer, clutching them to my chest as my heart cracked open. "My babies," I gasped. "No, no, no... you’re okay. Daddy’s here. I’m here."

My mother began to sob behind me. Loud, guttural cries...nothing like the elegant woman she always presented to the world. "No... not the babies... not them..."

"Who did this?" I growled again, looking up, my eyes wild. "Who?"

That’s when I turned to him..."Cyrius?" My voice was a whisper now. A broken question.

He lifted his head, just barely. His eyes met mine—bloodshot, tired, empty.

"I did it," he rasped. "It’s my fault." The room spun in my face.

"I stole everything..." His voice cracked, and he coughed violently, blood dripping from his lips. "I daggered Caspian. I took Hazel. I kept her in a coffin for five years. I needed... the twins. Their power."

"You..." I couldn’t breathe. "You what?!"

"I didn’t want to hurt them," he whispered. "But it was the only way. Dahlia... she promised...she said she could make me Crescent. I just wanted to be one of you." The words slammed into me like iron fists.

"You used them?" I choked. "You used my children for some twisted ritual—and now they’re DEAD?!"

"I didn’t know they would die!" Cyrius cried, struggling against the chains. "I swear it..I thought they’d survive. I thought it would just... drain them a little. Not—this."

Rage blurred my vision. I could feel Ragnar clawing at my skin, desperate to shift, to tear into something—someone.

I looked down at my babies again. So small. So still. I gently ran my fingers across their cheeks, but they were cold. Ice cold. And I had missed it—I hadn’t been there. I didn’t protect them.

And the one responsible... was my own brother.

"I should kill you," I whispered, trembling, my voice drenched in fury. "I should rip you apart right here."

Cyrius didn’t resist. He closed his eyes. "Then do it."

My mother dropped to her knees beside me, clutching her mouth with both hands, sobbing as if the ground had cracked beneath her. "My grandchildren... they were just babies..."

I wrapped my arms tighter around my twins, rocking slightly, back and forth, as grief swallowed me whole.

I don’t remember dropping them.

One moment I was holding my babies like porcelain—afraid they’d crack if I let go—and the next, they were in my mother’s trembling arms, wrapped gently as if sleep would somehow return if the blanket was tight enough.

And I stood.

Everything inside me splintered.

Cyrius was still on the floor, coughing up blood, his jaw bruised, his face barely recognizable. And yet... alive.

He looked up, smiling bitterly through the blood. "Yeah... go on. Kill me. What haven’t you done to me already? What’s one more hit? What’s one more scar?" His eyes burned. "You killing me would be a tip of the damn iceberg, Cayden."

That was it.

I launched.

My fist cracked against his cheek, again and again. I didn’t stop to breathe. I didn’t stop to think. I just hit him. Again. And again. And again.

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