Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers

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. NovelFire

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.

just need time,"

staring into the sky. "Cyrius should remain there.

It was full. Heavy with what hadn’t been said. Full of trust, too—trust that my

alcohol

there side by side

one night, that

---

"Are you two serious?"

snapped through the

groaned. The sun stabbed into my eyes like punishment. My mouth was dry. My bones felt like

stirred beside me,

Cayden," Father snapped, pacing at the edge of the rooftop with his arms crossed. "And this is where I find you? Drunk?

a sitting position, his hair a mess,

this idiocy from him," he jabbed a thumb at me, "but you? You

Caspian didn’t answer.

I almost said it.

blurted the truth

on Caspian’s shoulders—resurrected a ghost that should’ve stayed dead. That this wasn’t a drunk night of wedding nerves, but

But I didn’t.

Father would never

stake from Cyrius’s heart out of pure rage before hearing us out.

So I stayed quiet.

We both did.

nodded, muttered half-assed apologies, and climbed down the stairs. Hungover. Sore.

as we parted at the bottom of the staircase.

to be

cheering pack members, and giddy anticipation. But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, tightening the collar of my ceremonial

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

to walk down an aisle made of glass, every step echoing with the cracks beneath my

excited.

would be

pacing inside me like a rabid storm, tail high, ears perked, whining with impatience. He didn’t care that she wasn’t like us—didn’t

He wanted her. Desperately.

wound that refused to scab. It wasn’t even about the mistake. Not anymore. It was about how my body

matter how my

I told myself. That’s all I had to survive. Sixty years, and her fragile human body would

years... that weren’t really for

my thoughts. Mother entered, dressed in elegant pale blue, her silver hair swept into an updo that screamed grace and dominance all at once. She looked at me with those eyes that could

smiled lightly, and kissed me on the lips—gently, but full of meaning. Then she whispered, "Please... is there any way you

voice was laced with desperation

a small bouquet into my hands. "Give this to Natasha when she walks down the aisle. Try to look like you care. We’re

I nodded.

waiting for a

chamber,

like a leaf in a

as he yelled Caspian’s

be late—he’ll be late. Oh

and gently held him by the shoulders. "Go. Get everyone

"But—"

know where

as I walked. Everyone else had gathered near the ceremonial grove, preparing for the grand entrance. The air was thick with anticipation, but my feet carried me