Fated To Not Just One, But Three-Chapter 244: Should Be Thankful

Olivia’s POV

My eyes widened as I struggled to wrap my head around what Alpha Damien had just said.

"Now can you move away?" he groaned, already reaching for the door.

But I shook my head stubbornly. "No."

There was no way I was letting him leave. Not until I had answers. I couldn’t keep living in the dark.

"I have more questions to ask," I said firmly.

The look he gave me made it clear he was running out of patience—but I didn’t care.

"Why did you kill her?" I demanded. "You killed her... just for this, didn’t you? To make all this work?"

Alpha Damien’s eyes darkened. An irritated frown settled over his expression.

"And what makes you think I killed her?" he asked coldly.

I hesitated.

He stepped closer, his voice sharp with anger now. "What do you take me for, Olivia? A monster? A heartless man who slaughters innocent girls for convenience? Is that how you see me?"

I didn’t answer.

He scoffed, the anger in him growing deeper. "You should be on your knees thanking me."

"What?" I breathed, confused.

"I saved your fucking life," he snapped. "And I’m not just talking about Alpha Gabriel. You think he’s the only one who wants you gone?"

My brows furrowed deeper.

He pointed to the window like he could still see the crowd below. "There are people in this pack... and beyond... who would pay anything to see you dead. You don’t even know the half of it."

I swallowed hard.

"Being dead to them," he continued bitterly, "is the only thing keeping you alive. You should be grateful, Olivia. You’re safe. You’re breathing. And you get to keep your heart beating because of me."

I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn’t give me the chance.

"Next time you want to accuse someone of murder, think carefully," he said, voice low and full of anger. "Because not everyone who lies to you is trying to hurt you."

Then he stepped back and reached for the door again.

"And don’t bother me again," he muttered, just before walking out and slamming the door behind him.

And just like that, I was alone again.

Shocked, I went over to the bed and sat on the edge... What did he mean? Who else wanted me dead? Why? What the hell was going on?

I gripped the bedsheets tightly, my heart still racing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t piece anything together. The truth felt like a puzzle with half the pieces purposely hidden—and Damien was the one holding them all.

Was I really safer being dead to the world? And if so... why were there people determined to kill me?

My thoughts swirled endlessly until I felt too exhausted to keep questioning. Outside, I could still faintly hear the murmurs, the music, the quiet sound of people grieving a girl who wasn’t really gone. My own funeral...

Eventually, the muffled noise faded into silence... And somewhere in that stillness... I drifted off.

———

When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark.

The moonlight crept through the curtains, casting pale shadows across the walls. I blinked slowly, my throat parched and dry. I sat up, groggy and disoriented. The clock on the wall told me it was late—deep into the night.

The funeral must’ve ended hours ago.

Still half-asleep, I stood and padded toward the door, needing something—anything—to drink.

The hallways were quiet now. Everyone must have retired to bed after the funeral....

As I reached the stairs, I slowed down, hearing voices.

I crept down a little farther and peeked from behind the wall.

There in the living room, standing in front of the fireplace, was Anita.

She looked nervous, arms folded across her chest.

And facing her—was Levi.

His face was stony, jaw tight, eyes cold.

I held my breath and listened.

"You need to keep staying in your room," Levi said flatly.

Anita flinched.

He crossed his arms. "We don’t want to see your face. Not right now."

My heart skipped a beat.

He sounded... broken. Tired. Like grief had hollowed something inside him.

Anita nodded slowly, biting her lip. "I understand," she whispered.

But Levi didn’t say anything more.

He just turned and walked off, his shoulders rigid.

I pulled back before either of them could see me, my heart thudding in my chest.

I waited for Anita to leave, but she didn’t... instead she stayed by the fireplace and I couldn’t go back to my room, so I stepped out of hiding.

When Anita heard my footsteps, she looked up and stared at me blankly... she believed I was really Rebecca.

Staring at her now, I could tell everything was taking its toll on her... the vibrant Anita I once knew seemed to be fading more and more each day.

"Hi," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated. My instinct was to ignore her and keep walking—but I couldn’t. That would seem cold. Unusual. Suspicious.

So I forced a smile and walked over to her.

"Hey," I said, standing a few feet away.

"You okay?" I asked carefully. fгeewebnovёl.com

Anita didn’t respond at first. She blinked a few times, then slowly lowered herself into the armchair behind her.

"No," she said flatly, staring at the floor. "Not really."

Something tugged at my chest. I knew this girl. I’d laughed with her, danced with her, trusted her. She was my best friend.

Or... she used to be.

I sat across from her, unsure of how much I could ask without giving myself away. But my curiosity, my pain—it got the better of me.

"I heard..." I began slowly, testing the waters. "I heard that Olivia—the one who died—was your best friend."

Anita looked up, her lips twitching slightly. But she didn’t speak.

"I’m not judging," I added quickly. "But if she was your best friend... why did you look like you hated her? Why did you betray her?"

She looked away, gulping hard.

I thought she would stay quiet.

Or maybe get angry. Say something mean.

Maybe make up a lie.

But instead... she cried.

Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears.

Then, her whole body shook.

She covered her face with her hands, but the tears kept falling.

Loud sobs came out of her as she started to cry harder.

She looked hurt... really hurt.

Like someone who had lost something important.

Like someone full of pain.

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