Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 246: _ Suspicious Lira

The door slams behind the girls with a quick, final click that ricochets through Isolde’s bones.

Ines’s icy command, "Out. Now." still buzzes in both girls’ ears like a swarm of angry bees. Isolde feels heat crawling up her spine, the leftover tension from Darien’s explosion in that room, from Clarissa’s collapse, from everything spiraling in every possible direction.

Daphne exhales shakily and grabs Isolde’s wrist before she can even take a full step forward.

"Don’t even think about it," Daphne mutters.

Isolde stiffens. "Daphne—Amias needs us. Clarissa..."

"I know." Daphne agrees, shaking her head. Her hand tightens around her sister’s. "But if we go back up there and Mom finds out? She’ll skin us alive and wear us like winter coats."

Isolde winces. She hates that Daphne is right. Hates even more that she has to turn her back on Amias when he’s probably collapsing against a wall somewhere praying the Moon Goddess doesn’t take his mother.

"Auro," Isolde whispers in her mind, "we can sneak later... yes?"

Auro encourages. "Not yet. You know your mother. We survive first; we disobey later."

Isolde swallows hard.

"Okay," she finally says aloud. "Fine. Let’s... go."

The words feel like betrayal scraping down her throat. The girls push down the hallway, past portraits of ancient Alphas staring down at them with judgmental oil-painted eyes, and out into clearer, colder air.

Outside, the mansion’s courtyard feels wrong. Quiet in the wrong way. Tense in the wrong way. Even the wind seems like it’s holding its breath.

Isolde spots two figures off to the side. It’s Morgan and Lira, standing so close they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Their voices are low, tense which kind of tells her that they are definitely arguing.

Which is bizarre. Morgan and Lira do not argue. They don’t even talk.

Daphne squints and strides toward them. "Yo—what is going on?"

Both Lira and Morgan jolt like they’ve been caught committing treason. Morgan straightens instantly, shoulders rigid. Lira’s eyes bounce from Daphne to Isolde, wide and startled.

"We—uh—nothing," Lira stammers, pushing her glasses up her nose even though they didn’t slide. "We were just—just... talking."

"Lying," Daphne says cheerfully, hands on her hips. "Try again."

Morgan clears his throat. "It’s... about Clarissa."

Lira shoots him a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look, but Morgan ignores her.

"Lira is insisting she should still go to school," he says, annoyed.

Lira squeaks. "I wasn’t insisting—I was just—um—considering..."

"And I told her she needs to stay," Morgan cuts in. "Be there for Amias. You know—since his mother is literally dying?"

Lira flushes crimson. "I just—I don’t want to be in the way."

"In the way?" Daphne blurts out. "Girl, your freaking future mother-in-law collapsed in a puddle of blood. This is not a pop quiz. Why on earth would you be going to school right now?"

Lira stares down at her shoes like they suddenly became fascinating. Her fingers twist nervously around the edge of her sweater sleeve.

That’s weird, Isolde thinks. Lira is probably the boldest girl on campus. Fidgeting isn’t her thing. It still boils down to the fact that something is not quite right here. Why would she act like she’s been caught cheating just because she wanted to go to school?

Isolde’s detective skills are jolting to life.

"Yeah. You’re right," Lira murmurs. "I should stay. I should... be there."

That’s when Isolde sees the flicker. It’s a too fast twitch. A tiny jerk in Lira’s shoulders like someone flinching from a hand raised too quickly. It’s wrong, again, because Lira doesn’t move like that.

Lira is a perfectionist, yes. Sweetly polite, yes. A nerd who alphabetizes her own book spines, yes. But she doesn’t flinch.

Isolde narrows her eyes. "Lira, are you okay?"

Lira’s head snaps up a little too fast. "Yes! Yes. I’m fine. I’m just—overwhelmed."

Morgan nods quickly, a little too firmly. "She hates being wrong. It bothers her brain. That’s all."

Daphne laughs, waving a hand. "Ugh, don’t even get me started. The girl would apologize for breathing too loud during a library exam."

Isolde forces herself to chuckle along, but something in her gut, something deep and instinctive, whispers:

Something is off.

But she can’t push—not now, not with everything exploding around them. Lira squeezes Daphne’s hand, offers Isolde a small trembly smile, and hurries back into the mansion.

Morgan watches her go with a crease between his eyebrows. Then he turns to the girls. "You both okay?"

Daphne snorts. "No."

Isolde sighs. "Absolutely not."

Morgan nods like that answers everything, gives them a tight smile, and heads back inside. And then it’s just the two girls again.

"Come on," Daphne mutters. "Let’s... just get this day over with."

Get the day over with. Translation: face all the scrutiny, gossip, and judgement from other students as the multiple scandals that broke out from their home are now public topics, Isolde analyzes.

Translation: face Nash and give him a piece of her mind before school ends. And that... that, she isn’t bloody ready for.

They walk toward the sleek black SUV their family uses for school runs. Their chauffeur, Maro, who is a bulky, middle-aged wolf with peppered hair and a permanent look of exhausted patience opens the back door without a word.

His scent carries stress. He definitely heard the commotion inside.

"Good morning, Misses. You’re heading straight to campus?" He asks.

"Yeah," Daphne says, sliding in. "Unfortunately."

Isolde climbs in after her, shutting the door just as Maro pulls out of the driveway. The moment the mansion fades from the rearview mirror, Daphne slumps into her seat dramatically.

"Okay," she announces, "let’s figure out what the hell is wrong with Clarissa."

Isolde stares out the window at the passing trees. "Wolves don’t get sick," she murmurs. "Not like that. Not blood-from-the-mouth, can’t-stand, collapse-in-the-hallway sick."

"Okay, but what if it’s poison?" Daphne suggests.

"No."

"What if it’s a curse?"

"Daphne, curses can be inflicted by witches. I don’t recall seeing Clarissa with one."

"But we literally have Moon Blessed with glowing wolves and prophecy nonsense!"

"That is not the same thing."

"Okay... then what if she’s secretly pregnant?"

Isolde slowly turns to look at her.

Daphne shrugs. "I’m brainstorming."

"She’s too old to be pregnant."

"She could be having a late-in-life miracle baby!"

"Daph, you know Father doesn’t even go to see her. When and how would they?.."

"Oh... right." Daphne deflates. "Okay, fine. Um... internal bleeding?"

"From what?"

"I don’t know! Maybe she bumped into a very intense table corner!"

"Daphne."