CHAPTER 225: _ SHE IS OUR MATE!

Amias glances at Darien who looks like his jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like the bone might crack. Morgan’s fists keep flexing and unflexing like his fingers are arguing about whether to stay attached to his hands or turn into claws mid-run. Grayson looks ready to cry and murder someone at the same time.

Past the lawns, through the iron gates, across the training fields, they don’t slow. Wolves nearby pause what they’re doing, watching four Alpha heirs sprint across the grounds like someone detonated their patience.

They pass residential rows, the market square, and the old town well. People peek out of windows, confused, whispering.

Everyone knows something’s wrong. They just don’t know the world is about to crack. The moment they hit the military zone boundary, soldiers turn, startled.

The barracks are huge, made of stone and steel, and are heavily guarded and controlled. This is where the pack breaks criminals, trains warriors, and interrogates enemies. Nobody goes inside without clearance, not even princes.

Gamma Crowhurst commands here. He’s a man known for his zero-nonsense personality and muscles made of pure regret and protein. But right now, none of that matters.

The four brothers skid to a stop in front of the entry line, dust swirling at their feet. A team of guards immediately crosses their arms, blocking with perfect formation.

One officer steps forward. "You’re not permitted inside, sirs. State your..."

Darien scoffs. "Move."

The officer doesn’t.

Darien grabs the man by the wrist, twists, and shoves him so hard he stumbles into the dirt. "You want to test me today?" he growls, voice rough enough to peel skin.

Morgan steps forward and shoulder-checks another guard aside. "We’re not negotiating."

The officer hesitates, blinks, then attempts professionalism despite watching his mates writhe in pain. "Why do you require entrance to the barracks?"

Morgan speaks while breathing like he wants to chew drywall.

"Someone important was brought here."

The guard tries again. "Name?"

Argh, fuck this!

Amias steps forward so slowly that it feels scarier than shouting. "If you don’t open the gates, I will burn this establishment down and rebuild it with your skulls in the foundation."

The guard freezes.

Grayson adds, louder and absolutely serious: "As stated, we are not negotiating. Open the gate."

The officer looks from one brother to the next. He peeps Darien’s death glare, Morgan’s twitching fury, Grayson’s unhinged panic, Amias’ dead calm, and visibly realizes he is outnumbered by genetics alone.

He tries one last time: "S-sir, protocol—"

Darien grabs his collar and shoves him against the steel gate so fast the others gasp but don’t interfere. "Protocol can go to hell."

Morgan kicks the gate once, hard, rattling the entire metal frame. "We’re going inside."

The guards hesitate but instinct wins since nobody wants to be responsible for triggering a royal family homicide event before breakfast. So they step aside, heads bowed, fear in the air.

The Bellamy boys push the doors open and storm inside.

Their footsteps slam against the stone floor, leaving echoes that sound like warning drums. They yell Heidi’s name, voice after voice, filling the building like alarm sirens.

"Heidi!"

"Heidi!"

"Where is she?"

"Heidi!"

Doors open. Soldiers stare. No one answers.

Amias’s patience is exhausted. "We will tear this place apart if you don’t bring her out."

Finally, two men step out. One is Gamma Crowhurst and the other, his second-in-command, Captain Rowan. Both older, both calm, both confused by the scene of four heirs acting like rampaging bulls with daddy issues.

Gamma Crowhurst raises one brow. "What is the meaning of this?"

They stop inches away from him, all four breathing hard, sweat dripping, eyes blazing. Amias speaks first. "A girl from the Castell household was brought here. We need to see her."

Gamma exchanges a look with Rowan.

"You mean the Moon Blessed?" he blurts out in genuine wonder.

Grayson answers instantly. "Yes. Heidi."

Gamma’s eyes widen in surprise, curiosity, maybe judgment.

"You’re sure," he asks slowly, "that you four are referring to the Moon Blessed girl?"

Darien steps forward, voice filled with venomous impatience.

"We already answered."

Gamma and Rowan stare at them, then... they laugh.

It’s not a chuckle or an awkward cough. They laugh. It echoes through the stone hall like someone hit the disrespect button at maximum volume.

Rowan wipes his eye dramatically. "You four princes stormed the barracks for her? This is amusing."

The Gamma shakes his head while smiling. "I’ve never seen Alpha heirs lose composure over a Moon Blessed girl. What exactly is she to you all? A charity project? A toy? An entertainment—?"

That breeds silence. Darien’s shoulders rise. Morgan’s nostrils flare. Grayson looks ready to commit treason. Amias stands still, but stillness is a weapon here.

The Gamma continues casually: "There are higher priorities here than entertaining boys chasing a beautiful—"

Drained of every drop of patience, Morgan moves not to punch the Gamma, but to roar.

The sound bursts through the barracks, vibrating the walls, rattling metal equipment, and making several junior officers cover their ears. Even soldiers used to battlefield screams freeze like prey.

"She. Is. OUR. MATE!"

The silence that provokes is a dead one. All humor dies instantly. The Gamma’s eyes widen. Rowan’s jaw drops.

The guards behind them shift nervously, suddenly unsure whether they should salute, kneel, or fake death.

A Mate. Not a girlfriend, crush, or interest, but a mate/

One Moon Blessed Mated to Four Alpha Heirs.

The prophecy practically spells itself across the walls. There’s no doubt that she’s the one in the prophecy. A Moon Blessed, fated to four Bellamys.

Amias doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to reveal that this way especially when she’s under the surveillance of the pack for her abnormalities.

It’s like saying: Yes, she is truly the one you are all looking to target.

However, he can’t even blame Morgan. None of them is thinking straight right now.

The Gamma clears his throat like he swallowed a bee.

"Your... your mate? All four of you?"

Morgan doesn’t blink as he answers, "Yes."