Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 61: Into the Lion’s Den

Chapter 61: Into the Lion’s Den

TERESA’S P.O.V.

Two days. Two days of driving, surviving on vending machine snacks and lukewarm motel coffee that tasted like it had existential crises of its own. My back ached, my head pounded, and my only companions were two adorable, drooling bundles of joy in the backseat. Not that they cared about my misery—they were either peacefully snoring or giggling at some secret twin language joke I’d never understand.

I leaned forward, squinting at the road as if it could magically solve my problems. How had my life come to this? Oh, right—Adrian. That impossibly charming, infuriatingly overprotective vampire who had kept me under lock and key for two whole years. Two years without a single trip to the mall or even the joy of fumbling with self-checkout machines. Forget freedom; I wasn’t even trusted with cash. Everything I needed was handed to me on a silver platter—or sometimes an actual silver platter because Adrian had standards.

At first, before the scary night I had caught him feeding, it felt like a fairytale. Who doesn’t want to be pampered in a literal castle by a devastatingly handsome man who seems to know your favorite dessert before you do? But the gloss wore off quickly. I wasn’t a princess—I was a prized bird in a gilded cage, preened and displayed but never allowed to fly. And also, I was probably a reserved meal when the fondness he had for me finally cleared.

And now? Here I was, flying solo for the first time, spending the little money I had stashed away. Money I had planned to use for baby supplies before Adrian swept in and bought everything. Seriously, the man bought four cribs. Who buys four cribs? Was he planning for a sleepover I didn’t know about?

The twins stirred in their seats, their sweet voices breaking through my spiraling thoughts.

"Papa," Mai my daughter chirped sleepily, her tiny mouth curling into an impish grin.

"Not Papa," I muttered, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. Their faces lit up with unfiltered joy, completely unaware of the chaos unraveling in my head. "We’re going somewhere safe away from the scary man."

They didn’t care. They just giggled, probably imagining some grand adventure. Meanwhile, I was barely holding it together.

The word "Papa" lingered like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around my brain and stinging me with guilt. Adrian adored them—he’d moved mountains for them. He was the type of doting "Papa" who’d read them bedtime stories, only to end up buying out an entire bookstore because he thought they’d "outgrow the selection too quickly." But that devotion came with chains, invisible, blood sucking ones that threatened to choke the life out of me.

I knew he’d come for us. Adrian wasn’t the type to give up, especially not on his precious twins—or me. The man could be described in many ways—kind, romantic, charming—but "obsessive" should be tattooed across his forehead. I wouldn’t put it past him to appear at the motel door with a bouquet in one hand and a reinforced cage in the other, claiming it was "for our safety."

What would he do when he found us? Lock me away forever? Build another castle on a remote island and call it a vacation home? The man would call it love. I’d call it solitary confinement with room service and blood thirsty servers.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. The road ahead stretched endlessly, but my thoughts kept circling back to the same question: What now?

*******

I stared out the grimy motel window, the flickering neon sign outside sputtering like it was on its last leg. The entire room had the charm of a crime scene, and the faint scent of despair mingled with stale cigarette smoke. I sighed, rubbing my temples as the twins began their nightly chorus of wails. The sound wasn’t so much heartbreaking as it was soul-crushing, like they’d just realized their lives had been reduced to secondhand baby formula and a mother teetering on the brink. Gosh, this was getting worse by the minute.

"Alright, alright, I’m coming," I mumbled, scooping them up and holding one in each arm like two particularly squirmy sacks of potatoes. I swayed on my feet, rocking them while murmuring every soothing word I could muster. "It’s okay, sweethearts. Mama’s got you. Everything’s fine."

Except, of course, it wasn’t fine. Not even close.

Adrian would find us—it was just a matter of when. And what could I possibly do to stop him? The man was practically a walking Greek god with unlimited resources and supernatural powers to boot. Meanwhile, I was... well, let’s just say my superpowers included changing diapers at record speed and not completely losing my mind in a motel that probably charged extra for clean sheets.

I sank into the lumpy bed, staring at the ceiling as my brain raced in circles. Think, Teresa. Think.

And then it hit me. Lucian.

The name felt like a slap across the face. Just thinking about him made my stomach churn like I’d eaten expired sushi. But the truth was, he was my babies’ father, and if anyone had the power to protect them, it was him. Sure, the man had the personality of a wet cat, but Adrian wouldn’t dare cross him without starting a lasting war that’d end up trending on every social media platform.

Right?

It wasn’t just a gamble—it was a reckless, desperate Hail Mary pass. But for my babies? I’d throw it.

The next morning, I packed up everything we had, which wasn’t much unless you count my growing anxiety. I buckled the twins into their seats, their wide eyes and toothless grins completely oblivious to the chaos swirling around us. Oh, the joys of being innocent.

"We’re going to see your father," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to them.

"Papa?" this time around, Ollie my baby boy of chirped, the innocent sweetness in their voice hitting me like a massive bolder.

"No, not Papa," I said with a forced smile, trying not to let my voice crack. "Your other father."

Lucian’s face flashed in my mind. The piercing eyes that could freeze a room, the dry sarcasm that could cut through steel, and the ever-present air of "I don’t have time for your nonsense." He was intimidating, gruff, and private to the point of paranoia. But deep down, beneath all that icy exterior, I’d seen something—something almost warm like he actually had a heart.

Or at least, I hoped I had. Because if not, this was about to become the biggest mistake of my already mistake-riddled life.

As I drove down the endless stretch of highway, I mentally rehearsed what I’d say when I finally saw him. My words were jumbled, half-baked sentences that made no sense even to me. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, gripping it as though it could somehow keep my thoughts from spiraling.

I kept running through the words over and over like a broken record. Each time, the sentences changed slightly, trying to find the perfect balance between confidence and vulnerability.

"Listen, I know this is unexpected, but I need your help."

No, that sounded too desperate.

"Hey, I thought it was time we talked about something important."

Ugh, too vague. He’d probably roll his eyes and mutter something sarcastic before I even got to the point.

"Okay, here it is: I can’t do this alone anymore. The twins deserve better."

I shuddered. What if he laughed at me? I could already picture that smug grin of his as he leaned back, arms crossed, radiating superiority.

Great job keeping it together, huh?

Or worse, what if he didn’t laugh? What if he cared too much, his protective instincts kicking in like they always had in the past? What if he looked me dead in the eye and said, "You’re right. They deserve better. And I’ll make sure they get it, away from you—permanently."

The thought sent a chill down my spine. I couldn’t lose my babies. They were my everything, my only reason for fighting through each chaotic day. But I also couldn’t keep pretending I could handle this on my own.

I took a deep breath, my eyes flicking to the clock on the dashboard. Less than an hour now. There was no turning back.

"Look," I whispered aloud, testing the words again, "I don’t want to fight. I just... I need you to hear me out. For them."

The phrase lingered in the air, soft and uncertain, much like how I felt. My grip tightened on the wheel. "One step at a time," I muttered, the words more for my sanity than any kind of reassurance.

The twins, blissfully unaware of the emotional minefield we were headed into, giggled in the backseat. Their laughter bubbled up, sweet and innocent, cutting through the storm of dread in my chest like sunshine breaking through clouds. I glanced at them in the rearview mirror, their tiny faces lit up with joy, and forced a smile of my own.

"Oh, so you’re having a great time, huh?" I cooed, putting on my best fake-happy voice. "Mama’s totally fine. Just planning to walk into the lion’s den and maybe get eaten alive. No big deal."

They babbled in response, utterly convinced I had everything under control. If only.

Because deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn’t walking into a lion’s den—I was driving straight into it. And the lion? He wasn’t the cuddly kind that would purr and let you scratch behind his ears. No, this was the kind that sized you up, decided you weren’t worth his time, and left you in pieces for the hyenas.

Still, there was no turning back now. My choices were limited, my gas tank was nearly empty, and my sanity was hanging by a thread. But if this was the only way to keep my babies safe, then I’d throw myself to the lion and hope—pray—that I could walk away with even a shred of my dignity intact.

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