Chapter 178: The Beta’s Tragedy

The banquet was winding down. The plates were nearly empty, the wine no longer tasted like suspicion, and the conversation had eased—less strategic, more relaxed. The tension that had once weighed on every glance was slowly giving way to something calmer, almost peaceful.

But in one corner of the hall, a small forehead rested against a broad shoulder.

Loric, his eyelids heavy, was fighting sleep like a worn-out soldier after a long battle. His thumb half in his mouth, he clung to Caleb’s neck in silence, his curls brushing against his shirt.

Lya gently laid her hand on her adoptive son’s head, her expression softening immediately.

“He needs to lie down. He hasn’t stopped all day.”

Caleb nodded silently, holding the boy close. After what had happened, there was no way he was letting go of him. Not even for one night.

Soren, watching the scene, gave a nod to one of his attendants.

“Prepare the royal guest rooms. Our visitors will sleep here tonight.”

Lya turned toward Soraya and Lina, who nodded in sync.

“We’d rather stay together,” Soraya said softly. “After everything, I think we’ll sleep better that way.”

Lina smiled, still playing with the tiny glowing wolf she’d conjured to keep Loric entertained.

Lya gave them both a warm look.

“That’s perfect. Thank you, both of you.”

But just as everyone was starting to split into groups, a theatrical voice rose in tragic despair:

“And what about me?!”

All eyes turned to Drake, arms raised to the heavens, looking deeply offended.

“Abandoned, forgotten, left to wander this enormous castle alone…” He pressed a hand dramatically over his chest. “Is that the fate of a loyal Beta? The faithful brother-in-arms, cast aside once the job is done, doomed to roam from wing to wing with no pillow warmed by friendship?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow.

“Want me to send you a stuffed animal?”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Drake gasped, clearly scandalized. “You’d leave me—me—to face a night of lonely drunken sorrow, and all you offer is a plushie?!”

Lya stifled a laugh, her shoulders shaking.

“They can put you in the diplomat wing. I heard there’s a full-length mirror. You can talk to yourself if you get lonely.”

Soraya and Lina burst into laughter, and even Loric, half-asleep, let out a drowsy giggle against Caleb’s neck.

Drake crossed his arms with a theatrical sigh.

“Fine. So be it. I shall sleep alone. But let history remember this sacrifice… A Beta. Without a pack.”

And with that, he followed the attendant with exaggerated slowness, head high, noble in his abandonment.

Despite the exhaustion and everything the day had brought, no one could stop the small smiles that tugged at their lips.

Thanks to Drake, the weight of the day felt just a little lighter.

Drake made his entrance into the diplomat wing like he was stepping onto an opera stage—hands in his pockets, his imaginary cape billowing behind him.

The young lycan attendant guiding him, all business and zero humor, held a tablet and the look of someone who desperately wanted the day to be over. He opened the door to a spacious, modern suite with sleek decor and impeccable comfort.

“Here you are, Mr. Drake. King-sized bed, private bathroom, room service available all night.”

Drake paused at the threshold, scanned the room… then let out a long, heartfelt sigh.

“Empty. Cold. Quiet. A golden prison for a wounded heart.”

The attendant stood frozen, unsure if he should respond or run for the hills.

Drake walked in slowly, inspecting the bed like it was a plank of wood. Then he flopped onto it like a man defeated by life itself.

“You know what I gave up tonight?” he said, addressing the ceiling. “The warmth of a home. The crackling of a fire. A child’s feet on my shirt. The soft snarl of a nearby wolf... And instead, I get this.”

He turned his head toward the attendant, expression full of dramatic grief.

“Do you have a mirror? A big one? I’ll need someone to talk to.”

The attendant blinked.

“Uh… I could bring you a stuffed animal?”

Drake sat up instantly, eyes shining.

“Finally! A man of culture!” (Despite rejecting the exact same offer from Caleb earlier.) “Surprise me. Something soft, but with personality. No basic teddy bears. I want flair!”

The attendant nodded, somewhere between laughter and pity.

“Very well, sir. A plushie… with flair.”

As he walked off, shaking his head, Drake stretched out on the bed, arms folded behind his head, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Even alone, I’m spectacular.”

And in the diplomat wing of the castle that night… drama finally found some rest.

The royal suite was more like a luxury apartment—warm tones, soft lighting, thick curtains drawn. It was quiet, peaceful, designed for sleep. But the highlight was the massive king-sized bed with pristine white sheets and a duvet like a fluffy cloud.

Lya lay down first, Loric already asleep in her arms, his little head tucked against her shoulder. Caleb slipped in carefully on the other side, positioning himself so they could surround their son.

The room grew still…

Until a teasing mental link opened in Lya’s head.

“You know we’re not gonna be able to ‘have fun’ tonight, right?” Caleb muttered, sounding mock-defeated, his bright blue eyes glinting with playful frustration. “I’m stuck sleeping like a monk. And all because this tiny squatter grabbed the best spot.”

Lya smiled without opening her eyes, gently stroking Loric’s curls.

“You mean your son?” she replied. “At least he knows how to fall asleep without whining.”

“I’m not whining. I’m voicing a vital need ignored by my mate.”

But just as he was gearing up for more dramatic inner monologue, something odd happened.

A subtle, firm magical pulse radiated from Lya’s belly, spreading through the air.

Caleb blinked.

Before he could react, his body was nudged—gently but unmistakably—toward the edge of the bed. As if some invisible force had decided he was the one who needed to move.

“What the—!” he grumbled mentally, trying to scoot back. No use. He was being evicted. Rejected. Banished.

Next to him, Lya broke into silent laughter, her shoulders trembling not to wake the baby.

“Oh no… That wasn’t me this time,” she said through their link. “That would be your second squatter. Apparently not a fan of your bedtime ideas.”

Caleb groaned.

“Great. My unborn kid just kicked me out of bed. Off to a strong start.”

Lya, eyes half-closed and hand resting on her flat belly, smiled.

“Looks like they’ve got a little of me in them already… Don’t you think?”

Caleb, now sulking at the edge of the mattress, let out a dramatic sigh.

“We’re gonna have a serious talk, you and me. The minute you learn to speak.”

But despite his grumbling, the tenderness in his expression said everything.

Because here, in this room, even bumped to the sidelines, even exiled from the comfy spot, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

With the woman he loved, their sleeping son between them, and their future baby already setting boundaries.