Mated to alpha triplets at all-boys school Chapter 258

Ashley pov

The camp feels heavy, foreign. Every glance cast my way feels like an accusation. Every step I take feels like I’m walking through shattered glass.

I shouldn’t have let Constantine leave, I know that. He’s their leader - their strength. But the argument between us kept replaying in my head, like a bad song on repeat. His anger, his disappointment - it’s all burned into my memory.

Greg is worried, though he doesn’t say much. I catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, his face tight, his shoulders stiff. It’s like he’s waiting for me to break apart, but I’m doing my best to hold it together.

The rest of the bears, though, aren’t as subtle. Their stares are sharp, heavy with judgment. I can feel it in the way they move around me, their conversations quieting when I walk past. They think this is my fault.

And they’re right. Every single thing that’s gone wrong feels like it’s my fault. If I’d been smarter, stronger, better, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Constantine wouldn’t have left. The bears wouldn’t be looking at me like I’m some kind of curse.

I need space. Air. Something to clear my head.

Without really thinking about where I’m going, I walk away from the center of camp. The sounds of the others fade behind me, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the crunch of twigs underfoot. The trees feel safer somehow, like they can hide me from the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

It’s only when I hear the voice that I remember I’m not completely alone out here. “Well, this is a surprise,” the captive drawls, his voice light but laced with sarcasm.

I stop dead in my tracks, my heart skipping a beat. For a second, I think about just walking away, pretending I didn’t hear him. But then I turn and see him - still tied to the tree, looking far too comfortable for someone in his situation.

His wrists are bound, and his clothes are dirty, but he holds himself like he’s sitting in a fancy chair at some dinner party, not strapped to a tree in the middle of nowhere.

“I didn’t realize I had company,” I say, my voice quieter than I want it to be.

“You forgot about me.” He smirks, tilting his head. “Happens. I’m used to it.”

The guilt bubbling in my chest gets worse. How did I forget about him? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems that I left a literal person tied to a tree without a second thought.

I walk closer, though I keep my distance. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Clearly.” His smirk softens into something almost like amusement. “It’s not every day that someone leaves me tied up and then comes back looking like the world’s ending.”

I let out a humorless laugh, sitting down a few feet away from him. “It feels like it is.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His gaze sharpens, studying me in a way that makes me want to squirm. But I hold still, refusing to let him see how unsettled I feel. “So,” he says, leaning back against the tree, “what’s eating you, princess? Trouble in paradise?”

I snort. “You could say that.”

“Let me guess.” He squints at me like he’s trying to read my mind. “The big guy - Constantine - stormed off after a fight. Now the rest of them are looking at you like you kicked a puppy.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “I have eyes. Ears. And I’m good at reading people. Comes with the territory.”

“Territory?”

His smirk returns, but there’s something darker behind it now. “Let’s just say I’ve been in a few sticky situations. You learn a thing or two when you’re traveling.”

I don’t trust him. Not for a second. But right now, I need a distraction from my own thoughts, and he’s the only one here. “Alright, traveler,” I say, leaning back on my hands. “Why don’t you tell me your story? Since you seem so eager to talk.”

He raises an eyebrow, like he wasn’t expecting me to actually ask. But then he grins, all teeth, and starts talking. “Where do I even begin?” He muses, his tone almost theatrical. “Let’s see, hmm, born into a family that didn’t really care for me. Spent most of my childhood running from one place to another. Got mixed up with some bad people along the way, but hey, who doesn’t make a few mistakes?”

“Bad people?” I repeat, my skepticism growing.

“Oh, you know.” He waves a hand, or tries to, but the ropes stop him. “The kind of people who like to play rough. Mercenaries, bounty hunters, thieves - take your pick.”

“And you?” I ask, tilting my head. “What were you?”

He grins again, but there’s no warmth in it. “Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly a saint.” His words are vague, but I let him keep going. “Anyway,” he continues, “one thing led to another, and I ended up here. Wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe the right place, depending on how you look at it.”

“And what’s the truth?” I ask, my voice steady.

“The truth?” He laughs, a low, bitter sound. “The truth is whatever you want it to be. I could sit here and spin a hundred stories, and you wouldn’t know the difference.”

I frown. “So you’re lying.”

“Not lying,” he says with a shrug. “Just not telling the whole story.”

There it is. The unease I felt when I first heard him speak settles deeper into my bones. There’s more to him than he’s letting on, but I can’t figure out what.

“You don’t trust me,” he says, his tone almost amused.

“Should I?” I counter.

“Probably not,” he admits, his grin widening. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not an interesting company.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t leave. For some reason, even knowing he’s hiding something, I stay. Maybe it’s the guilt. Maybe it’s loneliness. Or maybe it’s something else I don’t want to admit.

The conversation shifts after that, moving to lighter topics - places he’s been, things he’s seen. Most of it sounds like nonsense, exaggerated tales meant to entertain more than inform. But I listen anyway, letting his voice drown out the thoughts in my head.

For a little while, I forget about Constantine, the bears, and the crushing weight of guilt on my chest.