Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 253: _ Something Dying Inside

Amias’s fingers curl around Lira’s wrist. "I’ll do better," he breathes. "I promise. After all this... after she..."

His voice breaks again, but he continues.

"You’ll have everything as my Luna. I swear it. Just... hold on a bit longer for me."

Her smile nearly cracks at the edges but she steadies it into something tender.

"I’ll wait as long as it takes."

They sit like that for a long moment with his forehead resting against hers, their breaths warming the small space between them. Amias finds the smallest bit of stillness there. Not happiness or peace. But a pause.

A few moments passed before a small, painful sound croaks from the bed. Amias jolts and Lira flinches. Clarissa’s eyelids twitch, then flutter open in slow, struggling blinks. Her lips part. A weak, rasping breath slips out.

"Amias...?"

He scrambles to her side so fast he nearly trips over the rug. "Mother?"

Her eyes open fully. They are dull, unfocused, but undeniably alive for the moment. A faint smile ghosts her face when she sees him. Then her gaze shifts sluggishly toward Lira kneeling beside him.

"...you... two..."

Lira grabs Clarissa’s hand gently, arranging her body to help Clarissa sit up slightly. "Easy," she murmurs softly. "Don’t push yourself."

Clarissa wheezes, but her smile grows. She takes both their hands; Amias’s in her right, Lira’s in her left, squeezing weakly.

"You... look good... together."

Amias chokes, tears blurring his vision again. "Mother, please don’t— don’t talk like..."

"No," she whispers, eyes shining faintly. "Listen."

He leans closer, heart thudding painfully.

"Promise me..." she murmurs.

Her breath shudders. She gathers what little strength she has. "Promise me you’ll... get married, you two... before I die."

The words fall heavily and are impossible to lift like a rock. Amias freezes... his mother has already given up on surviving. Lira’s eyes widen at the realization that Clarissa had just given them a one-week timeline to be wedded, and for a split second — just one slip, pure triumph flashes behind her lashes. She finally has him like she’s always wanted.

Clarissa tightens her grip. "Please," she breathes. "Let me see... at least one moment... of happiness... before the end."

Amias’s heart fractures, sharp and merciless. He squeezes her hand, throat burning. "Mother..."

But she closes her eyes again, whispering:

"Promise me..."

********

The morning creeps into Clarissa’s bedroom softly like it’s afraid to disturb the dying woman inside. The light is pale, watery, slipping through the curtains in thin, shy streaks that dust over the wooden floorboards and the old carved wardrobe. The room smells of dried herbs, old perfume, healing balms, and the sharp, cold bite of somebody slowly slipping out of the world.

Amias isn’t asleep. He hasn’t slept at all.

He’s been sitting on the couch beside her bed for hours, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands until they blur. The shadows under his eyes look like bruises. His hair is sticking up on one side from where he’s been dragging his fingers through it all night. At some point, he peeled off his shirt because grief made him hot, then cold, then hot again. Now he’s in nothing but dark trousers, chest bare, shoulders tense.

Vark hasn’t quieted once. "She’s fading. She’s slipping. It’s sad there’s nothing we can do for her except to move in and be happy."

Amias can’t. And the helplessness is killing him by inches.

Clarissa lies on the bed like a ghost who hasn’t decided if she’s ready to move on. Her breaths come shallow, thin, but they come. Last night’s awakening almost feels like a cruel miracle now. It was a brief moment of clarity before the universe yanks the curtain shut again.

Amias rakes a hand down his face and stands. His bones crack like he aged fifty years overnight. He pulls on a shirt. Then a dark jacket. Then boots. His movements are automatic, clumsy, like someone moving underwater. Vark growls that the buttons aren’t straight. Amias ignores him.

As he reaches for the cloak hung near the door, a weak voice scrapes the air:

"...where... are you... going?"

He freezes and then... turns.

Clarissa’s eyes are half-open, barely slits, but they’re following him... or trying to. Her voice is so strained he almost doesn’t hear it.

"Oh," he says softly, walking back to her side. "You’re awake."

A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "Barely."

He sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her. She studies his clothes with slow, sluggish blinks. Then her brow furrows slightly... or tries to.

"You’re... dressed. Like you’re... leaving."

"I am." He exhales. "Just for a few hours."

Her hand twitches weakly against the sheets. "Where?"

He swallows. He shouldn’t tell her. He knows how she’ll react. He knows the headache it will spark. He knows Vark is already pacing. But lying feels wrong. Especially now. Especially with the very real possibility that any conversation could be their last.

"It’s Heidi’s hearing today," he says finally. "At the Pack Court."

Clarissa’s eyes widen so sharply she almost looks alive again. "You’re going to that?"

Amias stiffens. "Yes."

"You can’t."

"I can."

Her voice rasps, breaking with each word. "Amias. Listen to me. If you walk into that court supporting a criminal, a girl with a violent wolf and no lineage in the pack, you will destroy your chance at becoming Alpha."

He doesn’t answer immediately. He looks at her. His mother. The woman he’s only just gotten back. The woman fading in front of him. He should be gentle but her demands spark anger inside of him.

"I don’t care," he says quietly.

Clarissa’s breath stutters. "You should. This pack..."

"This pack," he cuts in, a finger pointing at the floor, "has taken more from me than it’s ever given."

Vark snarls in agreement.

Clarissa blinks, thrown. "...Amias—"

"I already gave up my mate," he groans, and he can feel the pain of that moment slicing through him again. "I already gave up the future I wanted. I already gave up parts of myself I’ll never get back. And for what? To marry someone for politics? To be a puppet Alpha? To fit into a legacy that has done nothing but hurt you and me?"

Her eyes glisten. "I just... wanted you safe."

"Well," he says bitterly, "look where staying ’safe’ got us."