Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 256: _ Aligning Revenge

~Morgan’s Point Of View~

The demon core burns like a second heart.

Morgan doesn’t clutch and cradle it as if it were sacred. He lets it hover just above his palm, suspended by threads of dark magic that curl and flex like living veins. The thing pulses once... then twice... each beat slowly syncing itself to him.

Luke doesn’t fight it. That’s the first sign this is right.

The room now smells like iron, scorched stone, and rot-deep like blood soaked into old soil and forgotten. The lights dim without him touching them. Shadows thicken in the corners, stretching longer than geometry allows, bending toward him like obedient hounds.

Morgan grins. "Yeah," he murmurs. "You feel it too, don’t you?"

The demon core answers with a low hum that rattles in his bones. Power seeps into him, not violently, not explosively, but smoothly and seductively. It slides beneath his skin like warm oil, sinking into muscle and marrow, into the very architecture of his soul.

He doesn’t scream like he thought he would. He doesn’t lose himself to the power either. He just expands.

Dark magic threads through him, sharpening everything. His hearing stretches even better than before, so much that he can count heartbeats in distant rooms. His vision deepens as colors gain edges, shadows gain texture. His wolf lifts its head, eyes glowing. A beast, yes, but a controlled one.

Morgan closes his fingers and the core dissolves into him completely, vanishing like it was never separate at all. He exhales. The room steadies and the shadows retreat. The air settles.

And just like that, the mask slides back into place.

By the time he steps out of his wing, he is once again Morgan Bellamy: smirking, half-lidded, and relaxed. No dark aura. No crackling power. Just charm and teeth and a smile that makes people underestimate him.

Perfect.

*********

Clarissa is dying. The thought brings a tinge of satisfaction so sharp it almost makes him laugh. Well, it’s not that he hates her personally — no, that would require effort which she doesn’t deserve. It’s because her illness fractures Amias and weakens him. And her death? Oh, baby, it would pull the ground out from under his feet while he’s still pretending to stand tall.

Amias is horrible like that; noble, loyal, and exhaustingly moral. But now that he’s going to marry Lira in a few days, it makes Morgan smile wider as he walks. That alone is enough to end the idiot.

Lira is not a partner. She’s a blade. A pretty, venom-coated knife that thinks it’s in control until it’s buried to the hilt. Amias tethered to her without closure, without peace, without his mate’s bond settled?

He’ll rot from the inside out and that’s refreshing. So yes... Amias will be the first to fall. Morgan has known that for months. The demon core just makes the timeline cleaner.

Darien is harder. Darien always thinks three steps ahead, which is annoying, but manageable. He’ll need finesse, patience, and something irreversible.

And then there’s Grayson. His smile tightens at the thought. His fake twin. Grayson Bellamy, Rayne’s son. The most compassionate one. The replacement.

Morgan doesn’t want him dead. That’s the cruel part. He cares for his brother, but still needs to kill him. Rayne and the Alpha killed his mother. They didn’t just take her life — they took her son, rewrote his existence, shoved him into another woman’s arms, and called it mercy.

They made him theirs. That theft is unforgivable. Grayson has to die and Morgan will make sure of it by the next month. No matter how much he cares for Grayson, he just needs to accept this the way one accepts gravity. The fake twin has less than three weeks to live.

The only complication is Lira. She’s slipping.

Jealousy makes people stupid, and Lira is no exception. She’s noticed how publicly Morgan is aligning himself with Heidi. How does he not hide the bond? How the air bends around her when he’s near.

She wants him to stop. Worse, she wants him to choose or she’s going to end everything. That crazy bitch!

Isolde and Amias almost caught them in the courtyard because Lira lost her composure, grabbed his wrist too hard, and demanded answers with her words instead of her eyes.

Stupid darn bitch!

He needs her for Amias’s downfall, but once that’s done... Morgan hasn’t decided yet what to do with her. For now, he files it away. Problems exist to be solved.

Right now, he and Grayson are in the station that smells like disinfectant and old fear.

Morgan lounges against the counter while Grayson talks, nodding politely, playing the role of cooperative citizen. After a few discreet bribes, they were able to gather the truth. It came in the form of a thin folder.

"Sierra’s fingerprints were detected on it." The officer says.

Grayson exhales in relief. Morgan watches the moment hope blooms on his brother’s face and catalogs it. Good. Hope makes the fall harder. They leave without incident. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The drive home is quiet, headlights cutting through the night like knives. Morgan hums softly under his breath, fingers tapping the steering wheel in a lazy rhythm.

Everything is aligning.

.

.

Heidi’s room is dark when they arrive.

Steam still clings faintly to the air with lavender soap, warm water, and the unmistakable softness of freshly bathed skin. The bed is rumpled. The sheets are twisted, one pulled tight around a small form curled at the center.

She’s asleep, wrapped in nothing but a sheet. Morgan and Grayson freeze simultaneously. For a moment, neither of them speaks.

"She didn’t have clothes here," Grayson whispers unnecessarily.

Morgan’s gaze drags over her like a slow burn. Feeling her bare shoulder and collarbone. The dip where the sheet slides dangerously low. The bond stirs hungrily inside of him.

"We should leave her to sleep. Seems she’s too tired." Grayson says, already stepping back.

Morgan nods and they turn, only to hear.

"...Wait."

Her voice is sleep-soft, rough around the edges. They stop.

Heidi blinks awake, pushing herself upright, the sheet slipping just enough to reveal her masterpiece of a body. Her hair is damp, curling at her neck. Her eyes are glassy with exhaustion but bright with curiosity.

"How did it go?"

Why, Heidi, you beautifully made menace, Morgan groans internally, already feeling the pressure rise between his legs.