Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 277: _ Last Night in The Pack

Lucan sits near the couch with his lover, telling a story with exaggerated hand gestures.

"And then," he says smugly, "I simply didn’t tell anyone."

Ace groans. "You hid your lover for two years."

Lucan shrugs. "I am an artist."

Ginny throws popcorn at his head. "You’re a menace."

Darien smirks despite himself. "Standing up to your sister today was solid, though."

Lucan sobers, just a little. "Someone had to."

Earned and silent respect then settles between them. But not everything is light. Darien notices it in the gaps between laughter.

Lira is quiet. If not too quiet.

She sits perched on the arm of a chair, posture immaculate with a neutral expression. She hasn’t gone to see Amias—who had to leave immediately for his sick mother—but she hasn’t joined the party either. Her gaze keeps drifting. Lingering on Heidi and then flicking away.

Darien files it away, feeling uneasy. He’s learned the hard way not to ignore warning signs. Eventually, conversation drifts, as it always does, from jokes to reality. Isolde, who is curled against Nash’s side, breaks the bubble.

"So," she asks carefully, glancing between Heidi and her brothers. "What’s the plan?"

The room quiets and Darien straightens instinctively.

"How are you going to survive?" she continues. "I mean... really. Rogues don’t exactly have a great life expectancy. How do you... not lose yourselves?"

Morgan grins, wide and infuriating. "Relax. I’ve got it handled."

Darien scoffs. "You always say that."

"And I’m usually right."

"Name one time."

Morgan twists his mouth thoughtfully. "That’s not the point."

Grayson snickers. "He’s bluffing."

Darien shrugs. "We’ll manage. Father will probably freeze our accounts within the hour."

Nash winces. "That’s brutal."

"Good thing I don’t trust him." Darien smirks. "I’ve got emergency funds. Off-the-grid assets. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll work."

Ace nods slowly. "You’ll be hunted."

Darien meets his gaze. "We know."

That’s when Heidi clears her throat and the room quiets immediately. She stands, fingers twisting together, eyes shining.

"I just want to say..." Her voice wobbles. She swallows, but braces herself. "Thank you."

She looks at Darien. Morgan. Grayson. Then Lucan.

"You’re the best brother ever," she tells Lucan, voice soft but sincere.

Lucan blinks rapidly. "I—uh. You’re welcome."

She turns to the girls. "And you. All of you. I’ll never forget this. Even if it hurts... this moment matters to me."

Darien feels the sharp and overwhelming pride then. Just as Isolde opens her mouth—just as Daphne squeezes Heidi’s hand...

... Lira loses her patience.

"I hate you."

Every head turns immediately, flabbergasted. Lira stands, hands clenched at her sides, eyes blazing with pure hatred.

"I hate you," she repeats, voice shaking. "You’re a nobody who thinks being fated to Alpha heirs means you get everything."

Jaws drop. Lines crease Darien’s forehead. He doesn’t understand. Lira has always been calm and neutral about every topic. She also isn’t the type to harbor hatred, so why...

Nash steps forward, trying to hush his sister. "Lira..."

"No, Nash." She whirls on him. "Don’t."

Darien’s blood goes cold.

"I’ve done everything right," Lira continues, voice rising. "I followed the rules. I played the role. And you walk in and take everything—my fiancé’s loyalty, you stole the heart of the one I love... he denies it but I’m not blind. I SEE IT! You stole the futures they’ve done a lot to achieve from-"

"That’s enough," Darien growls.

She ignores him. "You don’t deserve them. You don’t deserve anything but to rot at the bottom, you filthy BITCH!"

Lira, stop," Nash warns.

But she doesn’t. "I hope you know," she spits at Heidi, "this is all your fault."

Darien is on his feet instantly. "That’s enough, Lira!"

Lira whirls on him. "Oh, don’t pretend you don’t see it!"

"I see envy," Darien says icily. "And it’s ugly on you."

"I’ll take her," Morgan interjects.

He lifts Lira effortlessly, and this time she doesn’t fight. The door shuts behind them and silence crashes down.

Darien turns to Heidi just to find that she’s shaking. Grayson has an arm around her. Daphne is shocked since Lira is her friend. Isolde looks stricken.

Darien crosses the room in three strides and kneels in front of her.

"None of that is true," he says firmly. "Not a word."

Heidi swallows. "I didn’t want..."

"I know," he interrupts gently. "And we’d do it again."

He means it. Every single time.

.

.

Darien wakes up to the deeply unsettling realization that he is not alone, and worse, that the noises he’s hearing aren’t from his nightmares but are in fact, the sound of kissing.

Not soft, polite kissing either. No. This is the enthusiastic, hands-everywhere, mouths-fully-committed kind of kissing that suggests two people have forgotten the concept of time, location, and decency entirely.

His eyes crack open.

The ceiling above him swims slightly, the aftermath of last night’s alcohol and emotional devastation still lodged firmly behind his eyes. His tongue feels like sandpaper. His head is pounding in a rhythm suspiciously close to regret.

Then he turns his head.

Nash has Isolde pinned halfway against the kitchen counter, one hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her waist like he’s afraid she might disappear if he loosens his hold. Isolde is very clearly not objecting. Her fingers are threaded in his hair, lips swollen, breathless little sounds leaving her throat that make Darien immediately regret being conscious.

It is five in the morning. He closes his eyes again. Of course, this is how exile begins.

He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, debating whether to fake death, roll over, or throw something. Unfortunately, the universe refuses to cooperate. A chair scrapes softly. Isolde giggles.

Oh, Gods above.

There are many thoughts that cross his mind in quick succession, most of them violent.

One: That’s my sister. Two: I have personally done significantly worse things with Heidi. Three: I am too hungover for this timeline.

He clears his throat loudly. The sound bounces through the room like a gunshot.

Isolde squeaks and shoves Nash back in shock, nearly knocking over a chair. Nash startles like a man caught committing a crime—which, frankly, he is.

"Oh my God," Isolde groans, burying her face in her hands. "Darien."

"Good morning to you too," he mutters, sitting up and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It’s five a.m. and we were already choosing chaos, I see."

Nash coughs awkwardly. "Uh. Morning."

Darien squints at him. "I am happy for you. Truly. Deeply. But if I have to watch you kiss my sister before I’ve even had water, I will become violent."

Isolde peeks at him through her fingers. "You’re dramatic."

"You were licking his mouth."

Nash turns red.

Isolde drops her hands and lifts her chin defiantly. "We’re in love."

Darien groans. "I hate it here."

Nash rubs the back of his neck. "We thought you were asleep."

"I was," Darien replies. "Then you started aggressively proving that love is real."

Isolde groans louder and hides her face in her hands. "Please stop talking."

He smirks despite himself, head throbbing faintly. The hangover is a slow-burning monster behind his eyes. His mouth tastes like expensive liquor.

He drags himself upright from the couch—because yes, apparently, none of them had used an actual bedroom. Bodies are strewn everywhere. Morgan is half on the floor, half on a chair. Grayson is face down with one arm dangling. Daphne is curled up like a kicked puppy near Heidi, who is asleep with her head against the couch arm. Darien takes it all in, chest tightening.

Last night was their last night.