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.

need time,"

the sky. "Cyrius

trust, too—trust

the alcohol took

by side under the stars, the

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

---

"Are you two serious?"

voice snapped through the morning like

My mouth was dry. My bones felt like bricks. I tried to move, but

stirred beside

Father snapped, pacing at the edge of the rooftop with his arms crossed. "And

hair a mess, his shirt half untucked. "Father,

a

Caspian didn’t answer.

I almost said it.

the

on Caspian’s shoulders—resurrected a ghost that should’ve stayed dead. That this wasn’t a drunk

But I didn’t.

Father would

us out. He would make

So I stayed quiet.

We both did.

climbed down the stairs. Hungover. Sore. Sobered

at the bottom of

to

members, and giddy anticipation. But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror,

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

empty. Like I was about to walk down an aisle

wasn’t excited. Not even

would be

a rabid storm, tail high, ears perked, whining with impatience. He didn’t care that she wasn’t like us—didn’t care that her life would be a blink in our eternal world, or that she had no rank, no bloodline, no connection

He wanted her. Desperately.

her skin. The memory of her body under mine was carved into me like a wound that refused to scab. It wasn’t even about the mistake. Not anymore. It was about how my

touch her again. No matter how my wolf clawed at the walls

to survive. Sixty years, and her fragile human

that weren’t really for

swept into an updo that screamed grace and dominance all at once. She looked at me with those eyes

lips—gently, but full of meaning. Then she whispered, "Please... is there any way you can not kiss the

laced with desperation and pride, a contradiction I’d

shoved a small bouquet into my hands. "Give this to Natasha when she walks down the aisle. Try to look

I nodded.

left without waiting for a

my chamber,

twirling like a

room as he yelled Caspian’s

late—he’ll be late. Oh my gods—he’ll ruin his

toward him and gently held him by the shoulders. "Go.

"But—"

where he

grove, preparing for the grand entrance.