Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers

Chapter 97: Blood trails

*~ Hazel’s POV ~*

I finally found an idea..one risky, desperate idea to signal my presence to whoever might still be searching for me. But I knew it would only work if Cyrius either stepped out or fell asleep. I had to wait. Timing was everything.

The deer meat was done, a bowl of it handed to me like I was some willing participant in this twisted little survival dance. I forced it down. Christian started crying again, his little whimpers slicing through the heavy silence of the hut. I dropped the bowl and rushed to him.

"He needs fresh air," Cyrius’s voice rang behind me, calm but irritating. "The heat from the fire is getting to him."

I scoffed. "Why do you act like you know my children better than I do?"

But Christian kept crying..louder, harder. And then, as if on cue, Heather’s soft whimper joined in, building into a wail. My eyes snapped to him, and there it was that devilish smirk that always made me want to slap the arrogance right off his stupidly beautiful face.

"So what?" I snapped, trying to cradle both babies at once. "I can’t step outside. How am I supposed to help them?"

He rose slowly, that infuriating confidence wrapped around his body like armor. "Bring them," he said simply.

I hesitated, then gave in, passing the twins into his arms. He took them out the door like the barrier meant nothing to him. I remained behind, still trapped inside the invisible cage that wouldn’t let me cross the threshold. Even outside, the babies were still crying.

And then he said, "I guess you want the special."

He smiled. And then, he sang.

I blinked. I thought I was hallucinating. But no his voice, , filled the air with a lullaby so soft and perfect that even the wind seemed to still. Fireflies gathered around him as I saw Heathers hand trying to catch them,

Christian stopped crying first. Then Heather. Their bodies relaxed against him, their faces turned up like flowers chasing sunlight. He sang like he’d done it a thousand times, and I had to see for myself. I crept to the door, pressing my hand against the threshold that still refused to let me pass.

turned to me. Holding my babies as his voice poured out into the night. The cold, ice-cube ache in my chest melted just a little. I didn’t want

and turned around slowly. The

scoffed, hugging the doorway. "My babies are asleep,"

gently handed them over. "Anything

the word, but I let it slide this time. He laid down on his

Watching. Listening. Seconds turned into

finally, there was silence. No breath from him. No movement.

the entrance and placed my hand against it. Still couldn’t cross.

say I couldn’t mark something. Or slide something

the gift box he prepared so lovingly, all wrapped in soft velvet and scented with his cologne. I had worn them that day I figured I’m pregnant. Now, they were a beacon.

my fingers, took a deep breath, and tossed it. It flew past the threshold and landed softly outside. I watched it,

quickly. That wouldn’t be enough. Not even close. It was just an earring. By the time Caspianor Cayden found it, if they ever did, Cyrius would have already moved us. I needed to do

could smell me. Or at the very least, track my

I did

exactly the way he’d shown me during our tense survival lessons, I

line of blood

access..faint, flickering, and wild..I guided the droplets, flinging my blood outward. Toward the trees. The wind. My scent painted the foliage like a desperate message

scattering the blood further and

Cyrius shivered.

I froze.

and his eyes fluttered open. "What’s that smell?" he muttered, voice groggy at first, then sharpened with alarm.

rushed to my side before I could hide the wound, his fingers already reaching for my hand. "What happened?" he