All Chapters of Mated to Three Alphas: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Lyra’s POV He was alive. He wasn't broken, and he wasn't dead. He just stood there, looking at me with a knowing glint in his eyes. He knelt down to me and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. It’s all part of the plan.” "How?" I choked out, tears finally streaming down my face. "What is this? How are you alive? He only smiled, a genuine, joyful smile that I hadn’t seen since before the fight. It was a smile that told me he had this planned all along, a calculated deception that had fooled everyone. I was afraid, but Kyle had told me not to be. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and relief, but his calm presence was a lifeline. He explained that he needed everyone to believe he was dead. It was the only way to end the confrontation, the constant threat of war. When I asked him how they hadn't figured it out, how no one had noticed, he just smirked. "I paid a doppelgänger," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Turns out, there are plenty of men as handsome as

Damian’s POVThe smell of blood was sharp in the air, mixing with the stench of sweat and dirt. My chest burned as I tore my claws free from the wolf I had just gutted. I barely had time to catch my breath before another rogue lunged at me. His snarl was loud in my ears, but I caught his throat mid-strike and twisted, sending him crashing to the ground. I knew we were losing—there were too many of them. My men fought hard, but the dirt beneath us was already slick with crimson.A heavy weight slammed into me from the side, knocking me off balance. My claws scraped the ground, my vision blurring for a moment. When it cleared, I found myself pinned, the rogue’s teeth bared inches from my neck. I fought to push him off, but another wolf landed behind me, forcing me down. I growled, straining, ready to tear my way free even if it meant losing half my flesh—until a deep voice cut through the chaos.“That’s enough.”The command was sharp. It made even the bloodthirstiest rogue freeze mid-at

POV: Lyra’s POV The gilded cage of Kyle’s pack house was a strange kind of freedom. I was a prisoner again, but this time, the bars were made of velvet and the chains were spun from gold. Kyle’s kindness was a suffocating blanket, a constant reminder of all I had been through and all that I had lost. He treated me like a queen, and in his eyes, I saw a raw, unyielding love. But my heart was a tangled mess of emotions—grief for the man I thought I had lost, fear for the man who had claimed me, and a simmering, resentful anger for the way my life had been ripped from my control. The days passed in a blur of forced comfort and quiet despair. Kyle was a patient man. He didn't push me for answers, didn't demand my affection. He simply waited, his presence a constant, reassuring weight in the background of my life. He’d bring me flowers, tell me stories of his childhood, and show me the wonders of his pack. He would sit with me for hours, saying nothing at all, just his presence a silen

Lyra’s POV He stood in the doorway, his eyes, cold and dark, fixed on me. He was surrounded by his men, their faces grim and menacing. He had found us. Kyle, who had been standing beside me, stepped forward, a defiant glint in his eyes. “You have no business here, Damian. This is my pack. My territory.” “I’ve come for my mate,” Damian said, his voice a low growl. “I’ve come to take what’s mine.” The air crackled with a low, simmering tension. The healers, the wounded warriors, the pack, all of them watched, their faces a mix of fear and anticipation. “She’s not your mate,” Kyle said, his voice dangerously calm. “She’s my mate. She chose me. She loves me.” My heart stopped. He was lying. But I didn't say anything. I just stood there, a silent pawn in a game I didn't want to play anymore. Damian laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Is that what you think?" He looked at me, his gaze piercing. "Tell him, Lyra. Tell him who you belong to." I stood there, paralyzed, my mind raci

Damian’s POVThe dirt clung to my hands. Cold. Damp. Heavy.I pressed it down over Kyle’s body until the mound was no longer a man but just another shadow swallowed by the earth. The forest stood silent around me, the moonlight a thin veil that refused to bless this burial with dignity.I could not risk a grave among the pack. Too many eyes. Too many questions.Kyle had to disappear, like a stain scrubbed from the floor. A secret carried only by me and the soil.I told myself it was necessary. That no one would understand. That exposing what happened would tear my grip on the pack apart. They already whispered, already doubted. A scandal now would feed their hunger for rebellion.But no amount of lies to myself silenced the echo of Kyle’s last breath.I shoved the spade into the dirt and leaned on it, breathing hard. Rage burned under my ribs. Rage at Kyle for daring to touch what was mine. Rage at Lyra for forcing me into this corner. Rage at myself because I could still feel the wei