Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers

Chapter 87: Gone

*~Lilith’s POV~*

As soon as I handed Caspian the map, I watched him shift into motion his limbs tense, his mind already racing toward the children. The others followed like wolves on command. They would do anything to bring those babies back.

And that was exactly what I wanted.

Because while they ran off to play hero... I needed to prepare.

I wasn’t just planning a rescue. I was preparing a resurrection.

The original Crescent pack...my people, my blood, my legacy will walk again. And the key to their rebirth? That child’s blood. A single drop from the child born of crescent lineage, carrying the power of light and shadow in one fragile body.

Once I had it, nothing would stop me from reclaiming New Orleans. Not the High House, not the wolves, not even Hazel because she will be on my side.

I left before the dust settled behind them and made my way to the place where our dead were kept or what was left of them.

The doors creaked open on my arrival. The scent of ash still lingered. Not decay, not rot. Just... ash. Burned flesh. Crushed bones. The remains of warriors, not victims. I dropped to my knees and let my fingers run through them—through them. All of them.

My people...My Crescents.

Even in this form, I could still feel their presence humming through my veins like static. My skin prickled. My eyes burned. I didn’t cry. No. I hadn’t cried in a century. But a piece of my heart shattered anyway as my hands trembled through the sacred ruin of what once was ours.

"I’ll bring you back," I whispered. "Not just in memory. In body."

I got to work. Leaves. Salt. Bloodroot. Crushed serpent’s tongue. Moon herb. I drew the sigils in ash and bone. The sacred runes of return. The incantation must only be completed once I add the final piece: the baby’s blood.

That would be the most difficult. And yet... somehow, I knew I’d find a way.

Dawn was curling its golden fingers across the sky by the time I arrived at the High House. I wore my calmest face, my kindest expression, the one they’d learned to trust.

But the gates were shut...Shut...That place was never shut.

I tilted my head and listened. Screams. Wailing. The sound of a mother breaking. The sound of death. Again.

"Oh..." I murmured, blinking as the iron doors shivered and slowly parted.

terrifying stillness. Eyes swollen with grief. Faces stained with disbelief. And at the center..there she

Hazel.

was laughing but not the

cracked laugh. One that peeled straight from the void in her chest. Her hair was tangled. Her arms limp. And

like the

look.

No.No, no, no.

to her. If she turns off everything inside her again, there’ll be no convincing, no distracting, no

the hall, and my eyes—my cursed, cursed eyes—landed on

Two dead babies..

felt it. I had felt it hours ago...a sudden gust of wind, the herbs on my altar scattering, the candles snuffing themselves out in protest. A silence in the spirit world that

it...Dismissed it....But it was

the truth...my grandchildren... were gone. "No," I whispered. My throat burned

wasn’t how it

only key. Their blood would’ve

just soldiers but mothers, children, brothers, sisters, history.

raise the dead...I was going to resurrect my

was supposed to

Crescent, ruling over New Orleans once again. But

all I saw was ash slipping through

sharply, almost violently, toward the one man who

hissed, my voice laced with venom. "Alive!

a shell of himself. "It wasn’t my fault," he muttered, his voice fraying. "The one

a

on the floor beside him. A corpse, cloaked in blue. Cyrius. I blinked..Dead? He was

it was him. Of course he was

dead?" I spat.

them," he growled. "They were already gone

closed at the

bodies had no warmth. Their skin was faint, tinged in frosted blue, lips pale as moonlight. They didn’t look like they