Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers
Chapter 77: Burial

Chapter 77: Burial

**~ Cyrius POV ~**

Day three.

It’s been three days of searching for Dahlia...and still, she’s nowhere to be found.

I’ve followed traces of her magic. Faint trails, flickers in the air, whispers in the wind. They always lead to something—a burned leaf, a twisted sigil etched into stone but never to her. Every time I think I’m getting closer, it all disappears like smoke.

And to make it worse... I’m traveling with babies.

No one warned me how exhausting this would be. No one said anything about diaper changes, sleepless nights, and random crying fits over absolutely nothing.

I can’t even remember the last time I slept for more than two hours. My back aches. My eyes burn—my patience... thin.

But still...I keep them close.

I’ve grown fond of them. Strangely.

Heather, for one, has a personality already. She doesn’t like being fed while lying down. She’ll scream bloody murder unless I hold her upright, facing me. And then there’s her brother still nameless, still observant. He doesn’t cry much unless she does, or when he’s hungry. He stares a lot. Like he’s thinking. Judging me.

We’re still in New Orleans. I know it’s dangerous. I should have fled by now. But something in my gut tells me Dahlia is still here. Her tracks though faint are rooted in this city.

And surprisingly... everything is quiet.

Cayden and Caspian haven’t launched a full-scale search yet, or if they have, they’re doing it quietly. No bounty hunters. No scent trackers. No wolfs clawing at my heels.

Just silence. Just me and the babies.

Like now.

I sat under a tree near the edge of the French Quarter, worn down and tired. The twins were curled against me...Heather was still wide awake, tugging at my hair like it was her toy, and the boy, already fast asleep in the crook of my elbow.

The breeze was warm. The streets hummed in the distance. For once, things were... still.

And then I heard voices.

A group of men passed nearby. Their conversation was light, casual, and I wouldn’t have paid them any mind if not for one word.

"Marcus."

My head snapped up. That name...

That was it.

That was the name Dahlia had mentioned to me when I first woke. Through my pain, through the haze of resurrection, she’d whispered a name..Marcus. I’d been struggling to remember it since. But now it echoed, loud and clear.

And then I heard the rest.

"Yeah, they’re burying him today. Alpha Cayden killed him and his last kid... brutal."

"Very brutal, to think he was the pack’s former beta."

My chest tightened. My pulse froze.

Killed?

Marcus... is dead?

I leaned forward, straining to hear more. My entire body went still.

"They said the rest of his family got locked up. The girl too. They’re all done for. Alpha ordered a public burial. Guess it’s happening in a few hours him and that little daughter of his."

My heart dropped into my stomach. Everything around me went cold.

I shifted the babies instantly, shielding their faces from the slanting ash-yellow sunlight. Heather whined in protest, but I ignored it. My arms tensed around them. I stood up. Fast.

Marcus was dead.

Dahlia said he was important. That someone named Marcus would help me get what I wanted. He knew things, secrets about the babies, about Hazel, about the Crescent bloodline.

And now... he was gone?

Murdered by Cayden?

I started moving..quietly but quickly, trailing the men at a distance through the streets. The twins bounced gently against my chest, but I cradled them tight. I couldn’t let them see too much. Couldn’t let the sun get in their eyes. Not now.

My mind spun wildly.

Why would Cayden kill Marcus?

What did Marcus know that got him executed?

I blinked hard and refocused. The men were heading toward a small square near the edge of town—a public cemetery built for pack warriors and honored elders. I followed carefully, staying among the shadows, avoiding every eye.

Heather let out a soft coo, still playing with the ends of my hair.

I glanced down at her, her little red eyes glinting like dying embers. She didn’t know what was going on. Neither did her brother. But they were part of this now.

They were the reason all of this was happening.

And if Marcus had died for them or Hazel then I needed to know why.

I needed to see his body.

I needed to hear what people were saying.

And maybe... just maybe, someone at that funeral would know where Dahlia had gone.

To my surprise, the men I was following led me to a barrier right at the center stone of New Orleans, the oldest and most sacred place in the city.

A crowd was already gathered there.

Dozens of wolves or maybe more.

Pack wolves stood in a circle, tense and armored. Spectators pushed toward the center, straining to see what was happening. The tension in the air was sharp electric. The type of energy that could only belong to one thing:

A burial.

At the center, two wolves emerged from the fog..dragging out not one, but two coffins.

One was large. Heavy. Covered in claw marks and old blood.

The other... smaller. Lighter. Child-sized.

My throat tightened.

It was obvious.

The larger was Marcus. The smaller..his child.

I felt a chill run down my spine.

Some people were crying, their hands over their faces as they muttered prayers. But not everyone. No. Most were angry furious, even.

"Traitor!" a voice spat from the crowd.

"Burn him alive, even in death!" another roared.

"He worked with that witch! Thank the Goddess she’s dead now too!"

My heart froze.

Wait....What?

My head turned toward the figure who’d spoken. An older man, wrinkled and bitter, stood with his chest puffed out like he was proud of the information.

My steps were slow, deliberate, as I drew closer.

"What witch?" I asked quietly.

He laughed, not recognizing me under the hood. "You must be new around here. Marcus was working with Dahlia. That serpent. She’s dead now. Found her body empty of power. Burnt to ash."

My breath caught in my throat.

Dahlia. Dead.

No. No, no, no....It couldn’t be.

My legs locked, knees threatening to buckle.

She can’t be dead. She promised me power. She told me I’d rise again. That I’d become Crescent. That I’d get back everything that was stolen from me. That these babies would unlock something no other wolf had touched.

And now they’re telling me—

"She was taken out by Alpha Cayden and the High House," the man continued. "Finally. Finally, we’ve purged the city of her filth. No more witches haunting our alleys. No more curses hiding in shadows. New Orleans can finally breathe again."

I couldn’t breathe.

My stomach twisted violently, a sick, gutted feeling washing over me.

The boy stirred in my arms startled by the voices, the rising noise. He blinked up at me, frightened, and clung to my chest.

I instinctively pulled the sling tighter, shielding him and Heather beneath my cloak. Her little fingers gripped my shirt, her body trembling from the tension she could feel all around.

No...

She was my last hope to power.. to vengeance.

And now she was dead?

I had to get out of here immediately and fast at that.

I turned, heart pounding, and quickly slipped out of the crowd.

As I moved down a side alley, my eyes caught something.

A small cluster of women...standing together in silence.

Their faces were pale, their clothes dark, and tears smudged across their cheeks. One had blood-stained sleeves. Another clutched a charm made of bone and ash.

I didn’t need to guess, they are witches.. Maybe the remnants of Dahlia’s coven.

I hesitated.

Would they be of any help? Were they strong like her?

Still, something in me pushed forward.

I stepped toward them, slowly, deliberately.

But the moment they noticed me, their eyes widened and they scattered like smoke in the wind. Each one turned in a different direction, vanishing into the alleys and shadows.

Damn it!

I stood, stunned for a moment, trying to decide which one to follow.

Then..my eyes locked on her.

A young girl, maybe seventeen. She moved differently. Sharper. More confident. And something about her... reminded me of Dahlia. Same lean frame. Same unnatural grace.

She glanced over her shoulder, She saw me and ran instantly.

"Shit.."

I clutched the twins tighter as I bolted after her.

The wind rushed past my face. My hood slipped slightly, but I didn’t care. Heather let out a cry at the sudden speed, and her brother joined in, their wails rising behind me as I ran.

"Shhh, shhh...Please," I muttered, breathless. "Just hold on."

The girl darted through alleys like she knew every twist and turn. She was too fast for a human. She was a witch.

And she didn’t want to be found...But I couldn’t let her go.

Not if she was the last thread tying me to Dahlia.

The last thread tying me to power.

The babies were crying louder now. Their shrieks bounced off the alley walls, drawing stares from people in the shadows. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

She darted left...then right...into a ruined building, half collapsed from fire damage. I followed, my boots crashing against cracked stone as I stepped into the dark.