Rejected and Claimed by her Alpha Triplets-Chapter 282 - not dare

282

~Fridolf’s POV

This was it, the D-day.

The day I would finally wage war against my own blood.

I tightened my grip on the sword at my hip and walked down the narrow hall that led to Belinda’s chamber. Two guards stood by the door, both loyal to me. Their eyes were sharp, waiting for my order.

"Open it," I said quietly.

One of them hesitated. "Alpha, she’s been restless all evening."

"I don’t care," I said, voice low. "Open it."

The iron door creaked, and the smell of damp air and old hay escaped. Belinda was sitting by the small window, her wrists resting on her knees.

When she saw me, she stood abruptly. "Finally," she snapped. "You decided to visit the one who helped you rise to this point?"

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "Helped me?" I repeated slowly. "You almost destroyed everything we’ve built."

Her jaw tightened. "You’re blaming me for what happened? You think it was my fault that my father got caught? I need to save him! You know how ruthless they are!"

"One moment of your foolishness could’ve exposed us all."

She laughed bitterly. "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to fail? I was trying to fix your damn mess when..."

"Enough," I cut her off sharply. "I don’t have time for your excuses. The war begins tonight."

Her eyes widened. "Tonight? But you said dawn! We agreed...."

"Plans changed," I said. "One of the guards almost caught us during the last briefing. He’s injured, but he escaped. We don’t know what he’s told the Alphas yet. We can’t risk it. We strike when they least expect it. And don’t worry, I will save your father,"

She said nothing after that.

I opened the door and stepped into the cold hallway. The guards closed it behind me, locking her inside again.

Outside, the air was biting cold. The scent of steel, oil, and damp earth filled the camp. My men were gathered near the edge of the field, their armor glinting faintly under the moonlight. Fires burned low, casting red light over sharpened blades and scarred faces.

Adrik approached me, his cloak brushing the ground.

"Your Highness," he greeted quietly. "The men are ready. They await your signal."

I nodded. "Good. Gather them."

"All right," I said, my voice low but steady. "Listen close."

"You sound tired," someone muttered.

"Tired never stopped an alpha," I answered.

They laughed once, brief and nervous. The sound died quick. Moonlight cut the air thin. Faces glinted from under hoods and helmets. Breath steamed. Swords hung at hips like promises.

"We were to strike at dawn," I said. "That was the plan."

"Dawn, Your Majesty," Oren, One of my men said. "We set watches, we planned the wind, we timed the patrols..."

"We change it," I said. "We strike now. Tonight."

A ripple went through them. "Tonight?" a voice asked, high and doubtful.

"Yes. Tonight," I said.

"You sure?" Adrik asked, stepping closer. He’s steady. He always is. "We agreed on morning. The light gives us cover, room to move. Night is messy."

"Night is surprise," I said. "Night hides what dawn shows. They’ll not expect us. We’ll move under shadow. We’ll be ghosts."

Another man laughed short. "Ghosts with swords."

"Ghosts with blood," I said. "And reason. We almost got caught. One of their own nearly found us."

That made them fall quiet.

I barked a small laugh because the words sounded like old prayers. "Sharpen your furs," I said. "Sharpen your blades. Temper them with fire in your hands. So they hold true when they meet steel."

"For victory," Oren said, raising his sword like a chalice.

"For victory," they echoed.

I led them into the bush. The night swallowed our footfall. Trees brushed our cloaks, thorns snagged at furs, and the world narrowed to breathing and the soft scrape of leather.

"Keep low," I whispered. "No sparks. No jokes."

"We’re ghosts, Alpha," Oren muttered. "Ghosts with teeth."

"Good," I said. "Move like that."

We threaded through shadows. Men ahead of me melted into the dark, then stopped when I stopped. Their shapes were a line of damp cloth and bright steel, the moon at our backs.

We paused at the edge of the clearing. The palace sat like a heavy throat in the dark, stone white under moonlight. Guards paced the walls, little moving lights that blinked and went out. I crouched and put my face to the earth for a second, letting the smell of it steady me.

"Listen," I said. "I want pairs. Take the left and the right. Move slow. Look for patrols, for light. Tell me if the moon finds a man awake."

Two men slipped from the line. I watched them go, bodies folding into the brush. Their feet barely made sound. I felt the pack tighten behind me like a held breath.

"Adrik," I said, low, "station three at the south gate. Two on the roof, hidden. Keep arrows readied."

"Done," he breathed. "We’ll hold the sky."

The minutes stretched. I could hear little else but the wet leaves and my own pulse in my ears. Time slowed until the world was a thread pulled taut.

Footsteps returned in silence.

"All clear," One of them said softly. "No patrols moving. One pair sleeping by the east post."

"Any fire?" I asked.

"Two at the gatehouse, not really active," Another one answered.

"Listen," I said, loud enough for the circle to hear but low enough to keep the moon from carrying it, "we go quick. We go hard. We hit the gate like a winter storm. No mercy for those who raise steel first."

I raised my hand and looked at them. My voice was low but sure.

"Now," I said. "Attack the gate. Hard and fast. No mercy for the first who raise steel."

"Oren!" I called. "You and you, cut the ropes. You, with me, tear the post down."

"Yes," they answered, in a single, rough sound. No one spoke against me. They did not dare.

"We hit them together," Adrik said. "Left and right. I take the right. Your Highness will take the left."

"Good," I said. "Move."

They moved like one body. I watched the dark shape of men run, then shift into wolves. The first guards at the gate were slow. They blinked and then the yard filled with sound, a sudden, sharp noise of bodies, of steel, of teeth.

"Gate!" someone shouted. "Gate’s open!"

"Oren!" I heard him cry as he tore ropes with his teeth. "Move! Move!"