Chapter 143: _ It’s Morgan
The Moon Blessed standing outside the dormitory stiffen like startled rabbits when Darien approaches. The Alpha heirs rarely acknowledge their existence beyond giving orders in training... or, more often, ignoring them completely. Now he’s right here, with his dark eyes fixed directly on them.
One boy gulps so loudly it echoes. Another fumbles with the hem of his shirt as if wishing he could disappear inside it.
"I need to know which room is hers," Darien repeats, voice rough with the leftover smoke of rage.
The boys exchange wide-eyed glances. One tries to speak but only a squeak comes out. Darien’s brows rise dangerously.
"Well?"
"I—I-I’ll show you, Alpha," one stammers finally, almost tripping over his boots as he hurries forward.
Darien resists the urge to roll his eyes. Moon Blessed, blessed by the moon itself, and yet half of them look like they’d faint if someone sneezed too hard.
They shuffle quickly toward the dormitory doors. The stone steps creak under Darien’s boots, and the lantern light flickers across his jaw, catching the faint smears of blood he still hasn’t completely washed off. The boy leading him keeps darting nervous glances over his shoulder, as though Darien might suddenly snap his neck for walking too slowly.
Finally, they stop before a plain wooden door halfway down the hall.
"T-this is it," the boy whispers.
Darien flicks his gaze at him. "Leave."
The boy bows clumsily and flees, shoes slapping the floor.
Darien stands alone before the door, his hand hovering near the handle. For a moment, he just breathes. His pulse pounds in his ears, each throb of blood echoing like a war drum. His anger screams at him to barge in, demand answers, force her to tell him why she let Morgan—or Grayson, or both, put their marks on her. But something in him hesitates.
Kairos reasons with him finally. "I’m all for being mad at your brothers, but we can’t be rough with her. We risk scaring her away from us. Don’t forget this is a competition between you and your asshole brothers, not with her!"
A competition? With Amias? Morgan? Grayson?
Hell, NO!
The mere thought of it almost makes Darien puke. He never competes with those incompetent sons of bitches. They are nowhere near competing with him. Not even close.
He’s about to scoff out a faint laugh when he hears voices on the other side. One sounds and the other, weary. Oh, one of those voices, he recognizes pretty well.
Hence, he freezes, leaning closer.
"...I can’t sleep, Heidi," the roommate whispers. "Every time I close my eyes, I see them. Our peers. Their faces when the demons tore through. I hear their screams. Over and over and over again..."
Darien’s chest tightens.
Heidi murmurs back and Darien can’t help but catch the hoarseness in her voice. "I dream about it too. I—I keep seeing her... Junie. The way she looked when I couldn’t..." Her breath hitches. "When I couldn’t save her."
Darien’s throat burns.
For the first time since he stormed from the study with his fists flying and fury flooding his veins, he finally feels something other than anger: shame.
They were just first-years. Untrained, barely past childhood. And they were sent into the labyrinth—the Devil’s own doorstep, to fight horrors even seasoned warriors fear. And he? He hadn’t been there. He had hidden behind excuses, even his brothers went in his stead, because he didn’t want suspicion falling on him or his mother’s reputation.
Now he hears Heidi crying in the dark about corpses and guilt, and it feels like someone is ripping his insides out with claws.
He should have been the one there. He should have caught her when her wolf first broke through, should have stood at her side when the labyrinth walls closed in. He should have been the one to go in to save her.
Not Morgan. Not Grayson. Him.
Darien presses his forehead briefly against the cool wood of the door. His jaw clenches, teeth grinding.
And then...
Her roommate whispers: "So... which of the Bellamy twins are you dating?"
Darien’s head jerks back like he’s been struck.
Heidi sounds startled. "What? What do you mean?"
"The mark, Heidi. Don’t act like I didn’t see it. That scar on your neck—it’s not a scar. That’s a mate mark. One of them bit you."
Darien’s stomach plummets. His nails dig crescents into his palms. Of course, they did. Except it’s not one, but the both of them.
"No," Heidi says quickly, voice too high and rushed. "It—it was a demon. Just a scratch."
Her roommate scoffs softly. "A scratch? Then why don’t you have scars anywhere else? You were in that labyrinth for days. Everyone came out with cuts, bruises, and burns. But you? Just two neat little marks, right on your neck? Come on. I’m not stupid. One of the twins is your mate. That’s why they barged into the labyrinth. That’s why they forced you to sleep in the treehouse with them for days."
They forced her to sleep in the same house with them?! Darien’s blood runs cold. The treehouse with the twins for days. His mind spins with images of his brothers curled up near her, their arrogant faces, their hands too close, their scent all over her.
Inside, Heidi goes silent. For a moment, Darien dares to hope she’ll deny it firmly, laugh it off, say it’s ridiculous.
Instead, she exhales shakily. "...It’s Morgan."
Darien’s vision blurs with red.
Morgan. She chose Morgan? Out of all of them—Morgan, the most annoying, the most cunning, the bastard who treats everything like a game? She prefers him?
Darien’s heart tears apart in his chest. He sways on his feet, fighting not to crash through the door and demand an explanation right there. But her roommate is still awake, and Heidi is still lying, still protecting secrets.
Multiple fated. That’s what she is. Abomination. Dangerous. Forbidden. And she’s hiding it by claiming just one name.
Morgan.
The word hammers in Darien’s skull until it’s all he hears. He spins on his heel and storms down the hall, footsteps echoing like war drums.
The night air slaps him in the face when he bursts outside, but it doesn’t cool the fire raging in him. If anything, the moonlight sharpens it, silver flames licking his veins. His lungs heave. His mind screams.
He doesn’t even realize he’s not heading toward the suite building. His body carries him instead toward there, the rage in him demanding a target, any target.
And then, fate delivers one.
A shadow slinks along the wall near the courtyard, hood pulled low in twitchy movements. Too twitchy. Darien’s nostrils flare. He sniffs.
"Wait..."
He recognizes that scent. It belongs to one of the traffickers. One of the vermin who had laid hands on Heidi. Who had tried to break her... Who hurt her and...
Arghhhh!
Darien’s lips curl into a smile. This wouldn’t even be about apprehending them for their crimes. It’ll be about getting vengeance for what they did to Heidi. And hell, they’ll pay.
He needs a medium for all the craziness going on right now. And here it is.