The Alphas' Pride Mate (The Pride Who Goes Into Heat)

THAT DREADFUL NIGHT.

Chapter: 9
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The frigid night pursued him relentlessly as he stumbled deeper into the dense forest. With each step becoming increasingly desperate. Tears streamed down his face, obscuring his vision. Determined to keep running despite the ache in his feet and the anguish in his heart, he pressed on. The fire within him consumed his body, leaving no room for rest. He yearned to vanish, to avoid ever having to confront them again. The sight of their pain, their tears, haunted him—they were his mates, and he had betrayed them.

As he raced through the woods, their pleas echoed in his mind, reminding him of the pain he had inflicted on them. The blood staining the ground, their Moon markings that he had stolen, the magnitude of his rejection weighed heavily on his conscience. How could he ever face them again? What words could justify the harm he had caused to his other halves? Overwhelmed with emotion, he collapsed for a brief moment, clutching his chest and fighting for breath.

He urged himself to go faster, to escape before the morning light. He was certain the revelation was as much of a surprise to them as it was to him. And now, he not only rejected them, but he was also on the run, fleeing from them, from his family, abandoning his home and shattering their fragile unity. His thoughts were interrupted by his father's voice calling out to him through the family link.

"Where are you?" Leon's voice trembled with worry. "Dirk, your Birth Omega and I are distraught. The Triplets were discovered unconscious near the cliff's edge. What happened out there?"

Initially tempted to ignore his father's plea, the mention of the state of the Triplets compelled him to respond, his voice raspy as gravel. "Are they... alive?" he managed to utter.

Leon hesitated, his silence stretching before he finally responded. "Not exactly," he said slowly, his voice heavy with concern.

Dirk waited, the weight of his father's silence pressing upon him. Summoning his courage, he mustered the strength to speak. "I am responsible..." His words broke as a weak sob escaped him.

"Don't dwell on that, listen to me," Leon interjected gently, attempting to provide some solace. "It doesn't matter what happened. We need you to come home. Tell me where you are, and I will come find you. Please, come home..."

Dirk's feeble voice wavered as he spoke. "I... cannot... return..." he muttered unsteadily.

Leon sighed, realizing that arguing would prove fruitless, Instead, he sought another approach to reach his son. "But where will you go? You're only sixteen! I can protect you, keep you hidden from the world if that's what you need. Just stay with us..."

"What if they never wake up?" Dirk vehemently countered, a fresh wave of despair ensnaring him. "I will be responsible for their death..."

"No!" Leon's voice grew stern, tinged with desperation. "Please, don't speak like that, my son..."

"Goodbye, Dad..." Dirk pushed his father away, severing their connection to shield himself from further communication. With a heavy heart, he turned away, his footsteps leading him closer to the edge of a cliff. Without thinking of the consequences. A silent descent followed, devoid of any vocalization or anguished cries, descending through the air until he landed with a resounding splash into the water below. As he sank deeper, darkness engulfed him, and he succumbed to unconsciousness for three long days. His torn and bloodied clothes bore witness to the extent of his injuries.

In that moment, he believed he had found solace in death. Wouldn't it be easier to face oblivion than to confront the world, burdened with the weight of his transgressions?

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When Dirk regained consciousness on the third day, he found himself in a dimly lit room. He lay on a table, partially unclothed, surrounded by bookshelves and a crackling fireplace. It took a moment for him to register that his body was securely bound to the table, a situation he found highly unusual. Panic set in as he struggled and groaned, attempting to free himself. Suddenly, a door he hadn't noticed swung open, and an elderly woman entered his line of sight.

"Ah, you're finally awake!" she greeted him cheerfully, her voice reverberating in the quiet room above the crackling fire.

"Who are you?" Dirk demanded, scanning his unfamiliar surroundings. "Where am I?" He strained against his restraints, trying to move his hands, but his wrists and elbows were firmly tied to the table. "Why am I bound?"

"Oh, please forgive me," the woman apologized, her tone tinged with mild disapproval. "You've been shouting incoherently for the past three days, and we had to repeatedly return you to the table as you attempted to seek out Lycgers whom you believed were in peril. Binding you seemed like the sensible course of action, as you were putting excessive strain on your leg... The bones have been unable to heal properly, given your repeated attempts to escape."

Dirk squinted suspiciously at the woman. "My leg?" he began, trying to catch a glimpse of it, but his bound hands prevented him from rising, causing him to slump back onto the table with a groan. "Release me!"

"Certainly, certainly, but first..." The woman crossed the room and stood beside him, holding a cup filled with green liquid. "Drink," she ordered, her tone stern yet accompanied by a faint smile. When Dirk hesitated, she firmly gripped his chin, forcing his lips open and compelling him to swallow. Despite her advanced age, she displayed surprising strength. Once the cup was empty, she removed it from his grasp.

Dirk scowled, displeased by the foul taste of the green liquid he had just consumed. "What is this?" he exclaimed bitterly. "It smells like rotten eggs and tastes even worse!" His face contorted in disgust.

"It's something that saved your life, my dear, ever since my son found you by the riverbank and brought you here..." The woman chuckled softly. She appeared to be of indeterminate age, with gray hair and wrinkles etched across her face. She wore a green shirt and blue skirt, leaning on a wooden cane adorned with symbols matching those on her skirt. "You're quite fortunate, you know... My son enjoys strolling by the riverside after his morning meals. You would have perished if he hadn't come across you when he did."

Dirk eyed her warily, unsure whether to trust her words. "And where is your son now?" he inquired.

With a sigh, the woman leaned on her cane. "Oh, dear," she murmured. "He's gone into the city... he's a diligent worker, that one." She paused, gazing down at Dirk, before slowly beginning to untie him. "Stay still, no sudden movements, or you may never regain full use of both your legs... One of them is significantly damaged, and a complete recovery may not be possible." She continued speaking as she worked, her words providing no solace to Dirk. "Had my son taken you to the hospital, they likely would have amputated that leg."

This did not settle well with Dirk whose heartbeat picked up speed in that moment.

But the process of untying him appeared to be taking forever and he grew impatient.