The DeLorenzo estate was never silent.
Even in the early hours of the morning, when the halls were bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, life pulsed through its walls. A quiet, calculated hum of security teams making their rounds, of surveillance feeds shifting from one camera to the next. It was a fortress built to withstand anything.
But for the first time, the triplets found themselves unsettled.
Because somewhere in the depths of the estate, their mate lay fragile and asleep, his past a mystery wrapped in blood.
And they didn't like mysteries.
Roo stirred as the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains. His body ached, muscles stiff from exhaustion, but it wasn't the pain that woke him.
It was the scent.
A scent that was everywhere, surrounding him, thick and inescapable.
Wild. Dominant. Overwhelming.
Alpha.
His lashes fluttered, and his breath hitched the moment he saw them.
They were still there.
Alec, seated in the same armchair, his golden eyes scanning a tablet, fingers moving in a steady rhythm across its surface. His posture was relaxed, yet there was something sharp in his gaze, as if he missed nothing.
Ace was sprawled on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes, the very picture of ease. But Roo could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tapped absently against the leather.
And Alexander—
Alexander was standing at the foot of the bed, watching him.
Roo's breath stilled.
Those silver eyes—sharp, assessing—pinned him in place, drinking in every inch of him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.
Alexander didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The weight of his gaze was enough.
Roo curled his fingers into the sheets, forcing himself to breathe. He should move, sit up—do something—but his body refused to obey.
Then, as if sensing his struggle, Alec finally spoke. "You're awake."
His voice was smooth, calm, but Roo could hear the undertone of something else. Something heavier.
Ace stretched, groaning as he sat up. "Morning, piccolino."
Roo swallowed, his throat dry.
Alexander remained silent. But his gaze never wavered.
Too much.
It was too much.
The room was too warm, the air too thick, their presence too suffocating.
He needed to leave.
He needed—
"Eat first," Alexander said.
Roo startled, his wide eyes darting to him.
Alec flicked his wrist, and the door opened seamlessly. A servant entered, carrying a silver tray laden with food. The scent of fresh bread, warm soup, and honeyed fruit filled the room.
Roo's stomach clenched.
Not in hunger.
In fear.
The food looked untouched, perfect. Too perfect. It was the kind of meal reserved for those who mattered. Those who belonged.
And he—
He wasn't supposed to belong.
His fingers trembled as he lowered his gaze.
He didn't deserve this.
Didn't deserve—
A fork was placed in front of him.
Ace.
The Alpha's expression was unreadable as he leaned in, his voice dropping into something almost soft. Almost.
"Eat, Roo."
Roo stiffened.
Alec exhaled. "You can't heal if you don't eat."
Alexander's tone was final. "You're not leaving this bed until you do."
Roo's throat tightened.
There was no room for argument. No escape.
So, slowly—hesitantly—he reached for the spoon.
His fingers curled around it, light and unsure, before he brought it to his lips. The warmth of the broth slid down his throat, and his stomach twisted, unused to the feeling of something substantial.
But the moment he set the spoon down, Ace clicked his tongue.
"More."
Roo's fingers tensed.
Alec arched a brow. "What? You think we'll be satisfied with just one bite?"
The weight of their attention settled on him again.
And he knew.
They weren't going to let him leave until he finished.
Meanwhile, deep within the underground chambers of the estate, the triplets' investigation was yielding results.
The captured rogues had been broken.
And what they revealed was worse than any of them had anticipated.
Alec leaned against the steel table, his golden eyes cold as he stared at the trembling rogue before him. Blood stained the floor, the sharp scent thick in the air.
Ace cracked his knuckles. "Start talking."
The rogue's breath came in ragged gasps. "We—we were just supposed to kill him."
Alexander's gaze was unreadable. "Why?"
The rogue swallowed thickly. "We don't know. We just got orders from—"
He hesitated.
Ace's expression darkened. "From who?"
The rogue's lips trembled.
Alec leaned in, his voice dangerously soft. "You have three seconds."
One.
Two.
Three.
A sharp cry echoed through the chamber as Ace's fist connected with his ribs, sending him sprawling.
The rogue choked on blood. "T-the Requiem Syndicate."
Silence.
Alec's eyes darkened. "Why would they want him dead?"
The rogue shook his head. "They—they called him a mistake. Said he was never meant to exist."
Alexander's fingers curled into a fist.
Ace exhaled, his voice laced with something dangerous. "And yet, he does."
Alec straightened, his gaze colder than ice. "Which means someone went to great lengths to erase him."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Then we find out why."
Ace smirked. "And when we do?"
Alexander's silver eyes gleamed.
"We burn them to the ground."
Upstairs, Roo had finally managed to eat.
He set the spoon down with a quiet clink, his shoulders tense as he waited for their reaction.
Alec gave a satisfied nod. "See? Not so hard, was it?"
Ace grinned, ruffling Roo's hair before he could react. "Good boy."
Roo's breath hitched, his cheeks flushing.
Alexander simply watched.
His gaze was calculating, unreadable.
And then—
"We need to talk," he said.
Roo stiffened.
Alexander took a step closer.
"You need to tell us everything."
To Be Continued...