The Alpha Triplets And The Rogue
Chapter 244

Raven’s POV

The weeks leading up to my coronation should have been filled with dress planning, the choosing of colors, and guest lists. Instead, it was filled with attack plans and security detail.

I haven’t been allowed out of the Crystal Lake Pack house without Leo or Oliver by my side. If I am to be honest, I am beginning to feel a bit suffocated. I am not even allowed to be alone with Kieran. My fathers and my mates are still not sure if he can be trusted.

Kieran has been kept in the dark about all of the attack plans that are taking place. Even the date of my coronation has been kept from him. Just to be sure he will not leak any of the details to the recusants.

It breaks my heart to see him wandering around the pack house like a prisoner. A guard from the Crystal Lake Pack has been assigned to him, and he is being dosed with small amounts of wolfsbane to keep his wolf from surfacing. I have tried to fight to gain him some freedom, but it is useless. No one seems to believe he has truly turned back to my side.

Finally, the morning of my coronation has arrived. The pack house is abuzz with visitors and distinguished guests, but I am not allowed to mingle among any of them. I am holed up in my bedroom, being tortured by a team of stylists.

I sit in front of the mirror on the vanity in my room and stare at my reflection. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror. My black hair is pulled up into a fancy updo with soft curls framing my face. My face is caked with make-up that I normally wouldn’t wear. The smokey eye that the stylist applied makes my eyes look much more blue than they really are.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and another group of women come bustling in with several dress bags in their hands. But the final woman that enters the room catches my eye.

“Little Bird,” my mother says gently.

I hop to my feet, bumping my knees into the vanity in the process. I rush across the room and engulf my mother in a giant hug. “I have missed you so much,” I say with tears welling up in my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” my mother says sweetly. “You will ruin your lovely make-up.”

Sniffing back the tears, I blink quickly, trying not to cry. “I am so glad you are here,” I tell her.

“I would not miss my daughter’s coronation,” my mother says as she tugs a stray curl behind my ear.

One of the stylists clears her throat, ruining the moment between my mother and me. I shoot the stylist a nasty glare, but she doesn’t seem phased at all. She merely gestures to the dress bags lying on the bed. “You have a decision to make,” the stylist says.

“You need to choose one of the dresses. Personally, this one is my favorite.”

The stylist holds up a glittering purple dress with blue trim that is the same shade as my eyes. I have seen this dress before. It is the dress I am wearing in every dream where the scarred woman plunges a knife into my heart.

“Not that one,” I say. “What else do you have?”

The stylist scoffs at my refusal of the dress and holds up another dress. It is bright red with a plunging neckline. It is the complete opposite of the dress I have been wearing in my dreams. It feels like the only appropriate choice.

“This one,” I say, not needing to see the other choices.

“But, My Queen,” the stylist stutters. “You have not seen the other choices.”

“And I do not need to,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. “This is the dress.”

The stylist opens her mouth to protest once again, but my mother silences her with a single look. “I will help my daughter get ready,” she tells the team who has been helping me.

One by one, they shuffle out of the room with irritated looks on their faces. My mother shuts the door behind them and sighs as she looks at me. “Are you sure you want the red dress? The purple one is so lovely.”

A knot forms in the back of my throat. How do I explain that if I wear the purple dress, I will most certainly die?

“We are trying to change the future,” I tell my mother simply. “I cannot wear the purple dress.”

Nodding in understanding, my mother pulls the red dress out of the dress bag and lays it on the bed. Carefully, she helps me strip off my t-shirt, making sure not to ruin my hair or make-up. I step into the red ballgown, and my mother zips up the back.

I stand back and look in the mirror of my room. I definitely do not look like the eighteen-year-old girl who started her journey to win over the packs of the country.

The red dress hugs all of my curves tightly, and the plunging neckline not only shows off my ample cleavage but it also puts my mates marks on display. It is everything the purple dress is not.

My mother steps into the view of the mirror with me. Her eyes are hollow and filled with sadness as she looks at my reflection. “Are you ready for this?” She asks as if I have a choice in the matter.

“I trust my family and my mates to keep me safe,” I say quietly.

“What about the Crystal Lake Pack warriors?” My mother asks curiously.

“I can only hope they decide to be on the right side of history,” I sigh.

Grabbing my hand, my mother pulls me away from the mirror, and we walk toward the door of my bedroom. Just outside my door, I find all three of my fathers waiting on me. They all offer me an identical smile as I step out of the room. I link arms with Dad and Papa as Father leads the way down the stairs.

“Protect her,” my mother calls out after us.

“With our lives,” all three of them answer at once.