A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs Chapter 150: My Mother’s Order

{Elira}

~**^**~

Sunday ca faster than I expected.

And as soon as my friends and I had breakfast at the cafeteria, we stepped outside the strong walls, heading for the record shop.

The record shop slled faintly of paper and dust, shelves packed tight with old sleeves in every shade of faded ink.

Nari was flipping through stacks like she was hunting for treasure, Cambria trailed behind her with her little notebook, jotting titles, and Juniper was already arguing with Tamryn about whether jazz counted as "real music."

And right then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down and froze almost imdiately when I saw Zenon’s na on the screen.

I quickly glanced around. And seeing that my friends were preoccupied with their own things, I shifted a bit and slid my finger across my phone’s screen.

"Zenon?" I greeted cautiously, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Where are you?" His voice was clipped, steady, but sothing about the way he asked made my chest tighten.

"The record shop just outside town," I said, glancing around as though he could see it through . "Why?"

There was the faintest pause before his voice ca through again. "Alright," he said, and the next sound I heard signalled the line went dead.

I lowered the phone slowly, blinking at the black screen. That was it? No explanation?

Nari waved a sleeve of vinyl in my face. "Look at this cover art. Doesn’t it scream future Luna chic?"

I forced a laugh, briefly shoving the unease to the back of my mind. "Sure, Nari. If future Luna is secretly a rock star."

The minutes slipped past in a blur of chatter and paper sleeves. But fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

And when I checked it, I saw Zenon’s displayed on my phone screen again, along with the sa sharp tug in my chest.

"Hello?"

"Step outside," Zenon said simply. "I need a word."

The call ended once more before I could even ask for a reason. I bit the inside of my cheek as my mind raced.

Then, thinking about my friends, I was in a dilemma about how to take my leave. If I told the truth, they would never let leave without a storm of questions.

I needed sothing simple, sothing safe.

"I will be right back," I finally said as I slipped my phone into my pocket. "I need to go get sothing."

Juniper barely looked up from the sleeve she was examining. "Please, grab one of those protein shake drinks from the café next door, will you?"

"Sure," I said quickly, relieved she had given an easy excuse.

But Nari’s eyes narrowed. Her suspicion was clear, but she only wagged a finger at . "Don’t vanish. We’ve got at least three more aisles to raid."

"I won’t," I promised, pulling my bag strap tighter as I headed for the door.

Stepping into the late morning sun, my heart hamred louder with each step towards the quiet street outside.

I looked left, then right, and there he was. Zenon leaned against the lamppost opposite the café, dark coat buttoned up, his posture sharp enough to cut.

I ignored the loud pumping of my own blood and crossed quickly, my boots clicking against the stone.

"Hi, you asked to see ," I said, trying to hide the nervousness that was creeping up my belly.

His gaze swept over , steady and unreadable. "Were you with your friends?"

The question caught off guard, but I still had to respond to him. "Yes," I admitted. "We were in the record shop together."

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he pushed off the lamppost, his hand sliding into his pocket. "Co with to the café next door."

I blinked. "The café?"

"Just for a mont," he said evenly, already turning. "Then you can go back."

I hesitated, but only for a mont. Curiosity pulled stronger than caution, so I followed, my steps quick behind his.

Warm air wrapped around , rich with roasted beans and cinnamon as soon as we stepped inside the cafe.

I expected to find a quiet corner table, just him and —maybe so clipped lecture or cold demand. Instead, my heart stuttered.

Lennon lounged in the far booth, one arm draped over the backrest like he owned the place. His grin spread the mont his eyes found .

Across from him, Rennon straightened, pushing his glasses higher as a soft expression contoured his face.

Both of them were waiting.

My breath caught in my throat at that realization. "You are all here?"

Lennon tipped his chin in mock salute. "Surprise."

Rennon’s gaze lingered on with that quiet, asuring warmth that always made feel both seen and safe.

And Zenon—he slid into the booth beside his brothers, leaving the space across from them open, his eyes steady on mine. "Sit."

Though that word wasn’t loud, it wasn’t a suggestion either.

My pulse drumd hard in my ears as I stepped forward and slid into the seat slowly, the leather cold under my palms.

My heart thudded too quickly for such an ordinary café, for a booth that should have just held coffee and quiet conversation.

Zenon didn’t waste ti. His stony gaze locked on mine imdiately. "We found her."

I blinked. "Found... who?"

"The witch," he said flatly. "The one who sealed your channels."

Instantly, the words dropped like stones in my chest. And for a mont, the café noise around us blurred—cups clinking, the hiss of steam, muffled laughter from other tables.

None of this felt real.

The witch has been found? The witch who blocked my channels?

Relief and nerves tangled in my chest all at once. For weeks, the promise had hovered over like a thin thread—we will find her, we will undo this—and now it was suddenly real.

"Where is she? Did you... talk to her?"

Rennon’s voice was steady as he carefully answered . "Yes. We went to her. She is alive."

’Alive.’ The word hit like never before. I hadn’t realized how much I feared the opposite until the relief rushed through .

"So she can undo it? She will unblock ?" My words tumbled out too fast, but I couldn’t help it.

Rennon’s gaze softened, but he didn’t answer right away. "She can undo it. But, it isn’t that simple."

My fingers curled tight around the edge of the table. "What do you an it’s not that simple? You promised —"

"We are keeping that promise," Lennon cut in quickly, fire sparking behind his eyes. "But you deserve the full truth before you walk in there."

A cold knot ford in my stomach. I felt that I wouldn’t like what else they had to tell , but my curiosity and my quest for answers got the better of . "The full truth?"

Zenon’s jaw flexed as he fixed his gaze squarely on . "The witch didn’t act on her own. She wasn’t your enemy, as we initially thought. She sealed you because she was asked to."

I blinked, the words taking a second too long to sink in. "Asked to? By who?"

Silence stretched, heavy, until Rennon finally spoke. His voice was quiet, careful, but it landed like a blade all the sa.

"Your mother."

The air left my lungs. "My—" I shook my head hard. "No. No, that doesn’t make sense. She would never—"

"She did," Zenon said, steady and unflinching. "She went to the witch herself. She gave the order when you were still a child."

The café blurred at the edges, the hum of voices fading into nothing. I heard my own voice, raw and shaking.

"Why? Why would she do that to ?"

"She was protecting you," Rennon said softly. "The witch said your power was too dangerous, too much for a child to bear. Sealing you kept you alive."

My chest felt painfully tight, my breathing irregular. "All this ti... it was her. My own mother. She made weak."

Zenon didn’t flinch. "She made you look weak; there is a difference. But you were never what they called you."

Rennon leaned forward, his tone gentler. "Elira, you were never an Oga. You are not one."

The words froze in place. My eyes looked up to his, searching, fearful to believe. "What?"

"You are not an Oga," Rennon said again, firr this ti, like he wanted to press the truth into . "That label was a lie, born from sealed channels and appearances. It was never who and what you were."

Right at that mont, sothing in my chest cracked open. My throat tightened, vision blurring.

"So I’m not... a failure?" My voice broke, the words spilling out small, almost childlike.

Lennon reached across the table without hesitation, his hand covering mine with warm, steady weight.

"A failure?" He scoffed, fierce and unyielding. "You’re the furthest thing from it, Elira. You’ve been carrying chains since you were a baby, and still, you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for."

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I covered my mouth with my hand, but more followed.

The weight of years—mockery, whispers, the sting of being "less"—all of it loosened under those words.