Fated and Claimed by Four Alphas

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~Neil's POV~

I hated boredom.

And tonight, it was clawing at my nerves like a stray beast at a locked door.

The massive room around me—the kind most people would sell their soul for—felt suffocating. The king-sized bed sat untouched.

Shelves lined with first edition classics stared blankly at me. My walk-in closet stood quiet, packed with more luxury than I'd ever wear. Still, none of it mattered.

I had one focus tonight: Solstice.

I stretched out in the leather chair tucked behind the long desk near the window, the city skyline winking beneath me.

I tapped my chin lightly, eyes slipping from the blinking cursor to the unread book on the shelf. Then to the untouched wine on the cabinet. Then back to the laptop again.

A soft vibration buzzed across the glass surface of the table—my phone.

It was a call from Manager Andy. Finally.

I picked it up. "Talk."

"Still digging, sir," Manager Andy said. "There are a few aliases that use 'Solstice' in forums, black-market databases, even blockchain posts. But nothing that fits the pattern you're describing—high-level medical detail, encryption, or ties to Rhys Kaine."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning if she exists in the open web, she's buried deep. If she exists in the black net, she's good—very good."

I grunted, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not good enough to stay hidden from me."

"I've got one of my best scrapers running through the dark archives. I'll call you as soon as something bites."

"Fine." I ended the call.

This was useless.

I shut the lid of the laptop and stood, stretching my arms high above my head. A few bones popped in my shoulders. It was nearly midnight, and I still hadn't made a single step forward.

Fine.

If the usual doors wouldn't open, I'd pick a lock instead.

I grabbed the laptop, crossed the room, and sank into the bed. Cool sheets, soft light. That was the best false comfort for the storm I was about to start, I could get.

My laptop was already open. I didn't want to do this before but now I had to. I stared at the screen—its screen filled with cascading code and a live monitor tracking outbound pings from Rhys Kaine's hospital network.

It had taken planning.

A week ago, I'd made sure one of my tech guys delivered a "gifted" hard drive to a junior nurse at the hospital.

She was new—eager to impress—and barely questioned why we wanted to donate "archival storage" to the medical records department. All it took was one click.

The moment the drive connected to a terminal Rhys logged into, the embedded tracker went live.

Now… I was in. Fingers already gliding over the keyboard.

It wasn't full access—he wasn't that sloppy—but it was enough. Enough to monitor keystrokes, enough to map his usual login routines, enough to trace traffic linked to a particular alias: Solstice.

And tonight, just past 2:45 a.m., something pinged.

I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at the stream of incoming data. There. Hidden within the logs—an exchange. A reply from Rhys to an encrypted thread. The same name again.

Solstice.

She'd messaged him. Or maybe he messaged her first. Either way, the connection was live for a brief second. Enough.

I ran a quick trace, not bothering to mask my own trail. No one would know I was watching. My script followed the IP's bounce—through proxies, dead servers, and relays meant to confuse.

But then… one node slipped.

An apartment server. Residential. Static IP.

"Got you," I muttered under my breath.

I copied the full trace log, encrypted it, and dropped it into my secure drive. Then opened a new message window to my investigator.

To: Manager Andy

Message:

"Found Solstice's digital shadow. IP trace attached. I want full verification—name, photo, home address, family, school—whatever you can pull. You've got 48 hours."

Attachment: Solstice_IP-Trace.log

I hit send, then leaned back again, exhaling long and slow.

It hadn't been easy. Rhys wasn't careless, but he wasn't paranoid either. He relied too much on his network, on his digital walls. And like any fortress, there's always one unwatched door.

Now that I had it?

There was no turning back.

Solstice. Whoever she was… she wasn't just clever. She was thorough, careful. And the fact that she stayed off the radar this long? Impressive.

But I was more patient.

"You saved my life," I whispered. "Let's find out who you really are. And maybe… why someone like you is hiding."

***************

~Kaius' POV~

The last thing I wanted right after a tedious two-hour board meeting was a family call.

But life, as usual, didn't care what I wanted.

The double doors to the conference room clicked shut behind me as I stepped into the hallway, phone vibrating in my pocket. I fished it out and glanced at the screen.

MOM.

Great.

Only they had this number on my second phone and when it was called, I knew it meant family emergencies.

I let out a long sigh, glanced toward my secretary, and gestured for her to go on without me. "Email me the final minutes," I told her before answering the call.

"Yes, sir."

Once she was a few steps off, I answered the call.

"Hello, Mom."

"Son," her voice rang out, a mix of exasperation and guilt. "So if I don't call, you'd forget your mother exists?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Here we go.

Guilt tripping method.

"I've been busy, you know. Meetings. Work. Life."

"Busy, huh?" she scoffed. "Busy fawning over that adopted sister of yours that all of you have suddenly abandoned your real sister for. Is that fair, Kaius? Really?"

I leaned against the wall and rubbed my temple, already regretting taking this call. My tone stayed calm, but the annoyance stirred just beneath the surface.

"Mum, you know what you did wrong. And until you're ready to admit that, I'm not going to keep sugarcoating Rose's mess. If you're hellbent on tearing down the girl you raised for sixteen years, then forgive me for not standing with you."

There was a beat of silence before her voice returned, softer but no less sharp.

"Stop being like this. We are a family, Kaius."

"Then say it. Say Rose was wrong."

"I—No. She did nothing wrong," she said quickly, her stubbornness flaring again. "Spring's just jealous. That's what all this is. Jealousy."

I nearly laughed but managed to keep my voice level. "Right. So Spring's jealousy made Rhys, Eryx, and even me cut ties with Rose and take her side? Interesting theory, Mom."

"Don't do this," she snapped. "I supported Spring before but times without number she actually tries to harm Rose instead and ruining her party, thatw as the last straw."

"Keeping it up, mum."

"Youknow I mean good. I know Rose can be a little jealous at time sbut that's because you all neglect her. She's your real sister. At the very least…"

"This is all bullshit mum. Not just blood makes us family. I can't believe you of all people would say this."

"I am your mother!"

"And I'm your son," I shot back. "So maybe act like one's mother. One who listens, not one who picks favourites."

"And you three didn't? You didn't choose Spring over Rose who has had a hard life? Why can't Spring learn to share?"

"Why can't she stop pretending?" I fired back.

She didn't respond immediately, but when she did, her voice had changed—light, almost manipulative.

"Rose is planning a family trip. A picnic. She says it's to help us all reconnect and apologize. She's being the mature one, trying to fix this family. I wish Spring could learn something from her."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Oh, she got one thing right: she's the reason the family's cracked in the first place and not Spring."

"Then prove Spring isn't dividing us," she pressed. "Come for the picnic. All of you. Let's see if she truly cares."

I narrowed my eyes, already hearing the trap in her tone. But maybe... maybe this was the opportunity I needed. To show her who Spring really was.

To make her see that this wasn't some orphan manipulating her sons—it was a girl who wanted to be loved but got rejected at every turn.

I grit my teeth. "Fine. We'll come."

"Better," she said with a satisfied breath. "Seems she hasn't wrapped you around her little finger completely yet."

I nearly hung up on that. Instead, I muttered, "Goodbye, Mum," and ended the call.

I stood in the quiet hallway for a moment, the tension in my jaw refusing to ease.

Rose thought she was clever. My mother thought she still had control? They were both wrong.

This wasn't going to be just a picnic. It may just end up being a reckoning. And for once, the truth would be louder than the lies.

I could swear Rose was up to no good, wanting our parents to believe she was the good one.

Well, Spring ahs thre knights on the look out.

And speaking about knights, I knew I had to relay the message to my brothers without them blowing things up on my head.

Typing on our shared group chat, I relayed the message and waited for their response.