Accidentally Mated To Four Alphas-Chapter 294: _The Animal Under

Grayson’s heart stops after hearing Morgan give the go-ahead for his execution.

"What?" His head snaps up. "Morgan—what did you say?"

Morgan finally meets his eyes again. "I said," he repeats without emotion, "they can go ahead and do what they intended with you."

The forest goes very, very quiet. Grayson stares at him, disbelief turning his face pale.

"You—you want them to..." He chokes on the word. "You want me dead?"

"I’ve wanted you to pay," Morgan corrects. "There’s a difference."

Something inside Grayson caves in completely. He lets out a sound torn straight from his chest. Tears spill freely now, mixing with blood and dirt as his pride dissolves into nothing.

"I loved you," he says brokenly. "I loved you more than myself."

For the first time, a more palpable emotion does flicker across Morgan’s face.

"That is what makes this fair. My mother trusted your mother too. Trusted her enough to engage in her silly plan of being Tobias’s partner and getting pregnant for the bastard along with her twin sister!"

Grayson’s vision tunnels. The rogue’s claws press harder, piercing his skin now. Pain blooms all over him, his anxiety plummeting. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"Morgan," he sobs. "Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear. I’ll never stand between you and anything ever again."

Morgan watches him the way one watches a fire burn down to embers. "I already spent my whole life making my real self disappear. It’s your turn—brother."

The rogue leader tilts his head, studying Morgan with open curiosity now, like a butcher deciding how much effort to put into a cut of meat.

"So he’s yours then?" the rogue asks, thick fingers still pressed into Grayson’s chest, claws dimpling the already split skin and bleeding. "Thought Bellamys liked to get their hands dirty."

Morgan shakes his head once, rubbing an eye. "I just want to watch."

Grayson’s breath stutters. Not because of the pain—he’s already past that point—but because something inside him finally, fully breaks. There’s no more maybe. No more this is some twisted test. Morgan isn’t hesitating. He isn’t conflicted.

He’s choosing to let him die.

The rogue leader’s grin spreads wide. "Works for me. I’ll make it a spectacle."

He tightens his grip, just enough to make Grayson gasp, just enough to remind him how fragile the body is when someone stronger decides it’s time to end it.

The forest seems to respond. Leaves rustle without wind. Branches creak. Even the other rogues quiet down, forming a loose circle with eyes that are bright with anticipation. Death is a language they all understand fluently.

Grayson’s vision blurs. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, too loud, too fast, like it’s trying to outrun what’s coming. The world narrows, not to darkness yet, but to unwanted and uninvited memories crashing into him all at once.

He sees himself as a boy, barefoot and laughing, racing Morgan through the pack grounds, tripping just so Morgan would stop and haul him up, annoyed but smiling. He sees Darien towering over both of them, pretending not to care while absolutely caring. He sees their mother, Rayne—brushing their hair with the same careful strokes, humming under her breath.

He sees Heidi. Gods, he sees Heidi.

Her smile. Her stubborn chin. The way she’d looked at all of them like they were worth something, even when they didn’t feel like it themselves.

A bitter, almost hysterical laugh claws its way up Grayson’s throat. It comes out broken, wet with blood.

"So this is it," he rasps, more to himself than anyone else.

The rogue leader leans down, breath hot. "Any last words, Bellamy?"

Grayson swallows. It feels like trying to drag glass down his throat. His eyes lift, not to the rogue, but to Morgan.

Morgan stands just beyond arm’s reach, hands loose at his sides with a relaxed posture. There’s blood that’s not his own on his boots. His face is calm and almost bored, like he’s waiting for a particularly long story to wrap up.

Grayson really studies him for the first time in his life. And suddenly, horribly, things start to make sense.

"You know what’s funny?" He scoffs hoarsely. "I always thought you were the lucky one."

Morgan’s brow lifts a fraction. Amused. Interested.

"I thought you were fearless," Grayson continues. "That nothing ever touched you. That you just... didn’t care what anyone thought."

The rogue leader snorts. "Touching."

Grayson ignores him. His gaze doesn’t leave Morgan’s face. "Turns out you cared too much."

Morgan chuckles softly. "Is this where you beg?"

"No." Grayson coughs, blood splattering the dirt. "This is where I tell you something I should’ve said a long time ago."

That earns a noticeable curious reaction from Morgan.

"I saw you," Grayson presses.

Morgan goes still.

"You and Lira," Grayson goes on. His voice shakes, but he pushes through it. "I saw you together. Years ago. I walked in by accident."

The clearing seems to tighten, like the forest itself is holding its breath again. The rogues glance between them, confused but entertained. Family drama is a universal language.

Morgan’s lips curl into a slow smile. "Did you now?"

"I didn’t say anything. I covered for you. I lied to myself because I knew what it would do to you if it came out. Sleeping with Amias’s fiancée? You would’ve been destroyed and forced to the bottom of the family and pack."

He laughs weakly. "Guess I thought I was protecting you."

"Y-you... I wish you were more confident." Grayson’s wolf coughs woundedly inside of him.

Morgan laughs genuinely. He throws his head back and laughs, the sound ringing sharp and bright through the clearing, so wrong in a moment like this that it makes Grayson’s stomach drop even further.

"Oh, Grayson," He sang, wiping at the corner of his eye like he’s just heard the best joke of his life. "You really are pathetic."

Grayson’s heart sinks. "I thought whatever could have led you to do that was because you cared about her. At least a little."

Morgan steps closer. The rogues tense, then relax when he doesn’t interfere.

"I don’t give a damn about Lira," Morgan points out pleasantly. "Never did."

Grayson’s lips press together.

"I used her," Morgan continues. "She was convenient. Beautiful. Desperate to be chosen. And sleeping with her was the easiest way to rot Amias from the inside."

Grayson stares at him, horrified. "You’re lying."

Morgan’s smile sharpens. "Am I?"

Something inside Grayson fractures completely. The twin he knew—the boy who stole his food, who carried him on his back, who swore they’d face everything together—shatters into something unrecognizable.

"You’re sick," he spits.

Morgan shrugs. "I’m honest."