Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 254: _ ERROR! Do not unlock

The moment Darien’s footsteps faded down the hall, Daphne let out the slow, shaky exhale of someone who’d been bracing her ribs with pure attitude alone. She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm, sniffled once, and then turned to Isolde with a suddenly determined expression that made Isolde’s stomach drop.

"Oh no," she whispered. "That face. That’s the face you make when you’re about to ruin someone’s life."

Daphne crossed her arms. "Good. Because Nash is on the agenda for tomorrow."

Isolde’s heart thudded. "Daph..."

"No, listen." Daphne sat up straighter on the bed, composure returning in uneven waves. "Tomorrow we’re talking to him. And he gets to decide what he wants. You deserve clarity. And honestly? He deserves to stop being a confused goldfish."

Isolde blinked. "A... goldfish?"

"Yes. Because his memory is terrible, he keeps swimming in emotional circles, and he needs guidance." Daphne huffed. "But whatever he chooses, I’m standing by you."

That hit Isolde like a soft arrow to the chest. Daphne rarely said things that weren’t wrapped in drama or glitter or threats of homicide. Hearing her speak plainly... it was grounding.

"Thank you," Isolde whispered. She meant it... deeply.

Daphne reached over, squeezing her hand. "No guy gets to break us. Not you or me. Sisters first. Everything else after."

Isolde nodded, throat tight.

"Alright," Daphne sighed dramatically, hopping off the bed. "You need sleep. And I need to fix my eyeliner because it’s currently trying to migrate south." She pointed toward the door. "We have school tomorrow, which is already hell. You need rest to survive it."

Isolde chuckled softly. "Goodnight, Daph."

"Goodnight, Issy. Try not to spiral. For once."

Daphne slipped out with a soft click of the door, leaving her sister alone with silence. Isolde sat still for a moment, staring at the door, then at her hands, then down at the quiet thrum of her heart. As soon as she was alone, the thoughts she’d been holding back all evening seeped in like cold water into cracks.

Nash.

Would he want her?

He never chose her. He never tried to get close. He’d been hovering over Daphne two days ago. And tomorrow, she was supposed to stand in front of him and ask him to choose — her or not her.

Her stomach twisted.

Auro? she whispered mentally.

Her wolf which was always calm and gentle, brushed against her thoughts with warm patience. "Do not torture yourself before morning. He will make the right decision. And if he does not... it wasn’t your place anyway. He alone will bear the consequences because I will definitely resent his wolf and that sends something to the goddess."

Isolde curled under her covers, hugging the warmth and the quiet. But what if he doesn’t want me?

"Then you will be free. And you will heal. And you will do it without lowering your head."

She breathed out, tension loosening just enough to let sleep tug at her. And eventually, the fear faded into the dark as her eyes slipped closed.

.

.

Light filtered through the curtains in thin gold streams. Isolde blinked slowly awake, the fog of sleep heavy around her bones. For a second, she forgot why her chest felt tight. And then...

Nash.

Right.

She inhaled sharply, forcing the air down as she sat up. Her body felt stiff, like emotions had set in her muscles like concrete overnight. The door cracked open.

"Good morning, Miss Isolde," one of the maids said, bowing slightly. Two more stepped in behind her. "We’re here to help you get ready."

Isolde nodded, stretching her arms as they collected clothes, laid out her shoes, and brushed out her hair with gentle motions. She tried to shake off the heaviness settling into her.

Nash. School. Her mother. Darien. Amias and Lira’s upcoming wedding. Everything felt like stones stacked on her shoulders. When she was dressed, her bob neatly combed, and light perfume dabbed at her wrists, the eldest maid cleared her throat softly.

"Your mother has requested you," she said. "She asked for you, Master Darien, and Lady Daphne to meet her in her chambers."

Isolde blinked. "All of us?"

"Yes, miss."

A family meeting, she realizes. Her stomach tensed.

"Alright," she murmured, grabbing her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. "I’ll go now."

She stepped into the hallway and nearly ran straight into Amias. He was leaning against a wall casually, arms crossed, staring at absolutely nothing as if he were contemplating the meaning of existence. Or maybe just waiting.

"Morning," he said, straightening with a small smile as soon as she appeared.

Isolde stepped forward instinctively and Amias pulled her into a warm hug. Strong and grounding, the kind only Amias could give. She melted into it for a moment before pulling away.

"Did you... do what I told you?" he asked, raising a brow.

"You mean talk to Daphne?" She nodded. "Yeah. We’re good now."

Amias relaxed visibly. "Good. I told you she’d get it together eventually."

Isolde smiled softly. "And congratulations, by the way. On your engagement. I haven’t properly congratulated you."

The shift in his expression was immediate. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just a tiny whiff like a candle being blown sideways by a quiet breeze. He tried to cover it with a polite nod.

"Thank you," he said.

But something felt off. Isolde tilted her head. "Are you okay?"

He nodded too quickly. "I’m fine."

"No," she disagreed quietly. "I don’t mean generally. I meant... with the whole engagement thing."

Amias froze before taking a sharp nasal breath.

"I’ve been dating Lira since forever," he said, shrugging, voice a little too stiff. "This shouldn’t be surprising."

"I know," Isolde replied gently. "Which is why I’m happy for you. Truly. But I also know what it feels like to be... pulled from your mate."

Amias’s gaze drifted to her with a flicker of emotion passing through. She could see the sharp and ache behind them. He opened his mouth, breath trembling just slightly like he was about to say something real.

Something honest and big. Finally. However.

"Amias." Clarissa’s voice interrupted from behind.

Amias flinched. Clarissa approached, dressed impeccably as always, pearls at her throat, and not a single hair out of place. Her eyes softened only a fraction when she saw Isolde.

"Good morning, dear," she beamed politely.

"Good morning, ma’am," Isolde replied, bowing slightly.

Then Clarissa’s attention snapped back to her son. "What are you doing here? You need to get ready for school."

Amias shuffled like a child caught sneaking sweets. "I’m not going to school today."

Clarissa blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I need to help my brothers with Heidi," he explained.

Clarissa’s expression shattered into pure fury.

"No," she barked. "You are not involving yourself in that girl’s situation. She is not your concern. Lira is."

"She is my mate," Amias countered, giving his mother a ’you should know better’ look.

Clarissa’s face paled in anger. "And Lira is your fiancée. Your future Luna. The girl chosen for you. That little..."

"Mother," Amias said through clenched teeth. "I’m marrying Lira. Isn’t that enough for you?"

"No," Clarissa hissed. "You are not to go near that girl again. I don’t care what Darien, the goddess, or anyone else says. You belong with Lira. Heidi is..."

She was about to go full-blown paranoid when her voice cracked and her hand flew to her throat. Isolde’s eyes widened.

"Ma’am?" she blurted.

Clarissa gasped, stumbling backward like the very air around her grew razor-sharp. Her chest heaved once—twice...

Then she coughed out a small, wet sound and a drop of blood splattered against her palm.

"Mother!" Amias lunged.

Clarissa tried to inhale, but instead a gush of dark red spilled from her lips, splattering her chin, her pearls, the polished wood beneath them. She staggered, knees giving out as she gripped the wall for balance.

Isolde rushed to her side, catching her shoulder before she could collapse.

"Get help!" Isolde shouted to the nearest maid, but the hall felt empty and soundless, like the moment had sucked the world inward.

Clarissa choked and then vomited a torrent of blood onto the floor. The smell hit Isolde hard, iron and panic mingling in her throat.

Amias’s hands shook violently as he grabbed his mother under her arms. "Mother, look at me. Look at me..."

Her eyes rolled back. More blood poured out, coating her dress, her pearls, Amias’s hands.

"Mother!"

Isolde held Clarissa upright with Amias, her heart beating so hard her vision blurred. "Amias, she needs a healer..."

"I KNOW!" he roared, voice cracking.

Clarissa gasped one last time, and then, she slumped forward.

Isolde has never seen anything like this. Not in her entire life.

Wolves don’t get sick, not like this. Not in ways that spill blood and collapse lungs and make the air taste like fear. Their bodies heal. Their wolves fix what their humans can’t. Illness is something mortals get... like humans, pups, frail elders who haven’t shifted in years.

But Clarissa is coughing up her life onto the polished floors. Her mind can’t process it. Her hands are still supporting the woman’s shoulder, but her brain feels like it’s lagging three seconds behind reality. Clarissa’s blood is warm on her wrist. Too warm.

The sound of Clarissa’s collapse is loud enough to ricochet through the hallway.

What in the world is going on?