Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers

Chapter 81: Sacrifice

**~ Cyrius’s POV ~**

They told me to stand back as they lit the candles around the half-fallen tree—where they had placed the babies. The air shifted, thick with incantations and strange power. The atmosphere was no longer natural; it had turned darker, heavier.

Then they started crying.

First Heather, then her brother.

Sharp, guttural cries. Cries that pierced through me like daggers.

I stepped forward immediately, heart racing, but one of the witches held me back.

"Don’t worry," she said quickly, her voice calm but her eyes watching me closely. "They’re fine. It’s just the beginning of the sacrifice. I’m sure they’ll survive it."

Survive it? The hell did she mean by that?

She could see it in my eyes—I wasn’t playing around. I didn’t care how powerful their little spell was. I wasn’t about to let these babies suffer.

They’re like mine now.. I’ve been with them since birth. I know their cries, habits, what makes them calm down, and what triggers them. I kept my damn sanity because of them.

But the witches didn’t stop. They began circling the tree stump, forming a tight barrier around the twins until I could no longer see them. Only their cries echoed back to me, muffled, but real. Painful.

I gritted my teeth.

"Calm down, Cyrius," I whispered to myself. "This is for the greater good. Think about the future. Think about the power."

But my heart was pounding like war drums. My whole body was on edge.

"Are you sure nothing’s going to happen to them?" I turned to the witch who was still standing beside me.

"I’m sure," she nodded softly. "You just need to breathe. If you need a break, take one—"

And then Heather let out a scream. Not just a cry.

A scream and it was high-pitched. Guttural. Painful. Before I even realized it, I snapped.

I shoved past the witches, ignoring their protests. I tore into the circle and grabbed both babies from the half-tree, wrapping them into my arms. Their cries began to settle immediately as I cradled them against my chest.

"You idiot!" one of the witches shouted. "You ruined the sacrifice! We’ll have to start all over!"

"I don’t give a damn," I snapped, glaring at them. "I said no pain. I meant it."

Their chanting stopped. I walked away from the circle, still holding the twins close. Their bodies were warm against mine, still a little shaken, but safe.

tree and sat down. With one arm holding both of them close, I reached into the small cloth pouch at

them slowly. "You’re alright. I’ve

sounded behind me. "You’re

but it was the same witch from earlier. The one who had first brought me to

here to harm them," she added quickly, raising her hands. "If anything, I should be afraid of you.

be sitting so close," I

She offered a hand, then

right. You’re a bit

"You’re... really good at this," she admitted. "That was, you know, until

Hazel’s babies," I said after a pause. "She’s

tilted her head.

nodded. "The girl

breathed, "It

boy, still unsure.

about... Sebastian?" she

feels right. That scowl? He’s

"I’ll think

scream you heard from Heather? That wasn’t

She was right. They looked fine now. Breathing

little pain," Davina said gently. "They’ll survive it. But you—" she looked me dead in the eye, "you’re going to need to decide if you’re strong enough to finish what you started. Because this won’t be the last

looked down at

Heather. Sebastian?

yet what I’d become. A Crescent? A vampire?

she wouldn’t let anyone else touch her—she was stubborn, just like her mother. We returned to

spell again," one of them snapped,

down. Heather whimpered slightly, and it took everything in me

heavy—like the very air was pulsing. I stiffened. Something didn’t feel right. I sensed a presence.

Her bow was already in her hand, her fingers tense against the string. Her eyes darted toward

her breath. "They’ve found

tightened. "How?" I hissed. "We cloaked the

must be that damn Aurora... or that

prison. "They’d figure it out

witches spring into motion—scaling trees, blending into the shadows. I

they spotted

I said. "But they

in silence, waiting. Watching. Then I caught it—the scent. That familiar softness laced with cedar

I once called a friend. Out of the three of us, I had always preferred him. And