Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210: Chapter 210

Kaelen’s POV

"Lyra! Valerius!"

The sight of them standing in the storm ripped every other thought from my mind. My children. My babies. Soaked through, trembling, their nightclothes plastered to their small bodies like second skins.

I released Elara and sprinted across the lawn. The grass was a swamp beneath my boots. Rain hammered my shoulders, my skull. None of it mattered. I dropped to my knees and pulled them both against my chest in one desperate motion.

"What are you doing out here?" My voice came out rougher than I intended. Fear did that. Made me sharp when I meant to be soft. "You’ll catch your death—both of you—"

Lyra was shaking. Not just from cold. Her whole body vibrated against mine like a frightened rabbit. Her braids were heavy with rainwater, dripping rivulets down my arms. I pressed my palm against the back of her skull, tucking her face into my neck.

Valerius didn’t burrow into me the way his sister did. He stood rigid in my arms, his jaw set, his fogged glasses hiding whatever storm raged behind his eyes. But he didn’t pull away. His fingers gripped the sleeve of my shirt. Tight. White-knuckled.

"Inside," I said. "We need to get inside right now—"

"Is Mommy leaving again?"

Lyra’s whisper cut through the roar of the rain. So small. So terrified.

My chest cracked open.

"No, sweetheart. No one is leaving—"

"We heard yelling." Valerius’s voice was flat. Controlled. But his lower lip trembled, just barely. "You were fighting. You were fighting like—" He swallowed hard. "Is it because of us? Did we do something wrong? Is that why she ran away before?"

Gods.

I pulled back enough to look at both of them. Lyra’s face was crumpled, tears indistinguishable from rain. Valerius stared past me toward where Elara stood. His expression was a battlefield. Want. Anger. Terror. All of it warring across features too young to carry that weight.

"Listen to me." I cupped Valerius’s face with one hand, kept Lyra pressed close with the other. "This is not your fault. None of this. Not then. Not now. Do you understand me?"

"But she left—"

"Not because of you." I said it with every ounce of certainty I possessed. "Never because of you."

"Then why?" His voice cracked. The composure shattered. Underneath was just a boy. A wounded, exhausted boy who missed his mother. "Why didn’t she want to be our mom anymore?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

I didn’t have the answer. I’d asked myself that question every night for three years. I’d screamed it into empty rooms. I’d whispered it into Lyra’s hair while she slept. I’d carved it into my own ribs with the blade of not knowing.

But the answer wasn’t mine to give.

Movement behind me. Soft footsteps on soaked grass.

Elara.

She moved past me. Not running. Not hesitating. Each step deliberate, as though she were walking toward something sacred. Or something she was terrified of breaking further.

She sank to her knees on the waterlogged lawn. Right there in the mud and rain. Her thin dress pooled around her, instantly brown at the hem. Her silver hair hung in heavy wet curtains around her face. She was shaking as badly as the children.

"My babies." The words came out broken. Ravaged. "My sweet, precious babies."

Lyra turned her head from my chest. Her eyes—wide, uncertain, desperate—fixed on her mother.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify