MATED TO THE BEAST ALPHA BROTHERS
Chapter 42: let the end begin.

Chapter 42: let the end begin.

"Look who’s decided to crawl back from the grave."

The mocking voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd like a blade.

Haelyn stood at the entrance of Archer’s pack grounds, the familiar terrain unrecognizable beneath the weight of rebellion. Tension crackled in the air, thick with hostility. Wolves stood in scattered clusters, their eyes sharp, their stance aggressive.

They did not welcome her return.

But she wasn’t here for their approval.

She stepped forward, her black cloak sweeping the dirt behind her, every inch of her posture poised in eerie confidence. The Haelyn they had once dismissed....the girl they had mocked, pitied, and scorned....no longer existed.

A ripple of unease spread as she moved through them, a haunting, slow grace in her every step.

Then....

"That’s far enough."

Ronan.

The wolf who had orchestrated the rebellion, planting seeds of discord in Archer’s absence.

He stepped forward, arrogance rolling off him in waves. He was taller than most, a broad, battle-hardened warrior with an insatiable hunger for power. His smirk curled as he eyed her, amusement flickering behind his gaze.

"You’ve got some nerve showing your face here," Ronan sneered. "Your mate has lost control of this pack, and now you think you can waltz in like a queen?"

Haelyn said nothing.

Her silence unsettled him.

He chuckled darkly. "Still the same weakling. You’ve always been nothing, Haelyn. You’re just a cursed little bitch playing dress-up...."

He reached for her shoulder.

The moment his fingers grazed her....

Agony.

A choked, guttural scream tore from Ronan’s throat.

His body jerked violently as a scorching, unseen force surged through him. His skin blistered, blackening as fire ignited from within. His veins...dark, cracking like shattered glass....began to glow an eerie, molten red.

The wolves watched in horrified silence as Ronan convulsed.

"What the hell....?" one of them breathed.

Ronan stumbled backward, his mouth gaping in a silent plea for help....but there was no saving him.

He was burning from the inside out.

With a final, strangled howl, his body collapsed into ash.

Nothing remained.

Not even bone.

The silence was deafening.

A single wolf took an instinctive step back.

Another trembled.

But not all were afraid.

A defiant voice cut through the tension.

"How dare you return here?" a man spat, rage replacing his fear. "You think you can just...."

A blur of white and bone.

A shriek.

The Faceless Wraiths lunged, their spectral bodies gliding through the air like shadows incarnate. Their razor-sharp teeth ripped into the man’s flesh, a gruesome symphony of tearing sinew and bone.

His scream was brief.

His body fell in pieces.

Gasps.

Horrified stares.

Even the rebels....those who had plotted, who had wanted Archer’s rule dismantled....stood frozen in pure, unfiltered terror.

Then....

"You think I need to prove myself to a pack of mongrels?" Haelyn’s voice was smooth, cold, unshaken.

She ascended the stone steps leading to Archer’s throne, her glowing eyes flickering with something unreadable.

"I’ve come back to take my place."

She turned, surveying the trembling wolves below her.

"What?" she tilted her head, lips curling. "Is that wrong?"

No one dared to answer.

A second man....reckless, arrogant.....spat at the ground.

"You’re nothing but a show-off, a cursed witch who doesn’t belong here."

The Wraiths moved before Haelyn even gave the command.

One moment, the man was standing.

The next....

His head was gone.

Bitten clean off, his body slumping forward, blood pooling at his feet.

Screams erupted.

Panic finally set in.

Wolves stumbled over themselves, backing away, eyes wide with horror.

Haelyn smirked.

"Much better."

Her voice was soft, but it sent a violent shudder through the crowd.

"And whoever stands in my way....."

Her tone dropped into something darker, heavier....

"I will violently remove."

Not a single wolf spoke.

Not a single wolf moved.

A single step.

A shift in the atmosphere.

Archer.

He stepped forward, his golden eyes locked onto her.

"Haelyn...." His voice was careful, restrained.

But when she turned her gaze to him....

He stopped.

His chest tightened.

Something in her eyes.

Something unnatural.

Something wrong.

For the first time since she had returned—

Archer felt fear.

A slow, knowing smirk curled Haelyn’s lips.

"I’m doing you a favor, Archer," she murmured.

Casual. Almost playful.

But there was something underneath.

Something twisted.

Archer clenched his fists.

This wasn’t her.

Not his Haelyn.

"Now that,that’s settled.." she turned a sharp gaze to the crowd. "I’ll take my leave for now."

Before he could say another word....

The wind howled.

A sharp gust tore through the pack lands, wrapping around them like a storm.

And then.....

She was gone.

Vanished into the night.

The Wraiths shrieked once....

And then they, too, disappeared.

Leaving nothing behind.

Only the chilling echo of her power.

And Archer?

He stood frozen....his body burning with a sick, painful realization.

That whatever had returned...

Was not entirely Haelyn.

"Where the hell is Lyra?"

Helen’s voice cut through the dimly lit room, sharp and agitated. She stood by the window, fingers drumming against the glass, her eyes scanning the darkened streets below.

Layla, lounging lazily on the velvet sofa, swirled the wine in her glass, her lips pursed in irritation.

"She’s been gone for months." Layla sighed dramatically. "She was supposed to be useful, but now? She’s just a liability."

Helen turned sharply. "We need her. Now more than ever."

Layla arched a brow. "Oh? And what do we need her for exactly?"

Helen tossed a small, blackened dagger onto the table between them. The ancient weapon glowed faintly, dark veins of power pulsing along its jagged edges.

"This."

Layla’s smirk faltered as she leaned in, her fingers hovering just above the cursed blade. A whisper of something cold snaked up her spine.

"What is this?"

"An artifact older than time," Helen murmured, her gaze dark. "It’s been used in the sacrifice of countless Alphas. A single cut from this...." she gestured to the blade, "...and Archer won’t just weaken, he’ll decay from the inside out. No magic, no mate bond, nothing will save him."

Layla’s eyes gleamed. "Perfect."

"But we need someone to get close enough to use it."

Layla rolled her eyes. "And that’s where Lyra comes in."

Helen nodded. "Exactly."

There was silence for a moment. Then...

"You don’t think she ran, do you?" Layla mused.

Helen scoffed. "Ran? Where would she go? She has no one. No pack. She’s nothing without us."

Layla exhaled, tapping her manicured nails against her glass. "Then why is she nowhere to be found?"

The weight of the question settled between them like a storm cloud.

Helen’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"We need to find her. Fast."

The scent of expensive cologne and cigars lingered in the air.

Tiago Frost sat in his lavish penthouse, a woman draped over his lap, sipping whiskey from a crystal tumbler. His expression was relaxed, but his sharp, calculating eyes flicked up when Helen and Layla entered.

"Ladies," he greeted smoothly, waving the woman off his lap. She pouted but obeyed, slipping away into one of the rooms.

Layla wasted no time. "We need you to find someone."

Tiago raised a brow. "And here I thought you came to warm my bed."

Helen sneered. "Not in a million years."

Tiago chuckled, swirling his drink. "Shame. Who’s missing?"

"Lyra."

Tiago blinked. Then smirked. "Now that’s interesting."

Layla narrowed her eyes. "You’ve seen her?"

Tiago leaned back, tapping a finger against his glass. "Not recently. But someone like Lyra doesn’t just disappear. If she’s been gone this long, one of two things has happened...." He lifted a finger. "One, she’s dead."

Helen stiffened.

Tiago lifted a second finger. "Or two... she’s been taken by someone far worse than us."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Layla scoffed. "Who the hell would take Lyra? She’s pathetic."

Tiago shrugged. "That’s what’s got me curious." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But... for the right price, I could have my men track her down."

Helen crossed her arms. "You’ll do it because it benefits you."

Tiago smirked. "Smart girl. But I still want something in return."

Layla rolled her eyes. "What?"

He took a slow sip of whiskey, then placed the glass down deliberately. "When you finally get rid of Archer, I want a piece of the empire."

Helen exchanged a look with Layla.

"Fine."

Tiago grinned. "Pleasure doing business." He stood, adjusting his watch. "I’ll have word within the week."

Layla exhaled, turning to Helen as Tiago stepped away to make a call.

"Something doesn’t feel right about this," she murmured.

Helen smirked. "Since when has anything we’ve done felt right?"

They heard Tiago chuckle over the phone.. something made Layla uncomfortable. She remembered then she had promised all of her father’s properties to him.