Her Triplet Alphas – Chapter 42: Haute Couture

Chasity’s POV

“Are you Boss?” I asked the tall, willowy girl with her almost silvery pale skin and midnight black hair.

She smiled and giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

“No of course not. I‘m not Madamel Madame is out,” she said softly.

“Is this a brothel?” I asked, my stomach in knots. Madame? Was this young girl a former kidnap victim too made to work for Madame,

“No, no,” said the girl. “I‘m June.”

“Hey June,” I said softly.

“Hi, Luna Chasity,” she replied with another faint smile. “This is a modelling agency and a spiritual centre.”


“What a strange combination,” I commented.

love her

“Madame handpicks us to model for her agency but she also acts as a spiritual adviser. Some people in Hollywood teachings. She has quite the loyal following because if it,” said June.

“So she kidnapped me so I can model?” I asked incredulously, feeling as though this situation was even weirder than I had ever imagined. “I‘m short,” I added as if that would help make them let me go. I had no interest in being a model, especially not for Madame Boss.

June giggled again. “No, of course not! You won‘t be one of her models but you‘re very special to her. She told me how special you are and that I have to help take care of you.” June explained

I felt so uneasy. June was trying her hardest to be friendly toward me despite my unenthusiastic response. I was so tired of all the vague half answers.

“I want to meet Boss or Madame or Madame Boss,” I said simply.

“As soon as possible,” I added seriously. To my utter surprise, June opened the door wide, holding it open for me.

I cautiously approached, hoping it was not some trap.

“You‘re taking me to see Boss?” I asked June. I was hopeful but wary at the same time.

“Eventually,” said June. “For now, let‘s meet the others.”

Third Person

The new element is another person…a baby…Chasity‘s pregnant,

said Alex to his three brothers over mind–link.

Felix felt as if a band was constricted around his heart and his lungs. He couldn‘t breathe properly and there was so much pain in his

chest. He knew his brothers felt the same way.

I know she‘s ok, murmured Felix. She has to be, she has to be, she has to be, the middle alpha repeated like a mantra, almost as if he

said it enough times, it would surely become or remain true.

We‘re gonna find her, said Calix confidently. And once we do, we‘ll never let her out of our sight again.

Yeah, we‘ll find her and the rest of her pregnancy will be spent safe with us, said Alex reassuringly.

Felix could not help but wonder how scared she might be, for herself but also for the baby. Chasity was soft–hearted at times. What if she felt sick? What is she were nauseated, vomiting, in pain? Who would take care of her? Was she being fed enough for two? Was she warm enough at nights? It was always cold on their pack lands even when the six–month winter ended.

Felix, stop torturing yourself with questions. Let‘s focus on the investigation. The sooner we find Chasity, the sooner we can put this

all behind us and make her kidnappers pay!

Felix gritted his teeth. His elder brother was right. After the five had combed and swept every inch of the castle–like residence, they

realised it was truly devoid of all people. Chasity was no longer here. They hoped she was still close.

“Find out who owns this house and if they were rénting it out to anyone!” Said Alex to Danny.

Danny nodded. “Will do. Also, I‘m arranging for us to meet Dexter Sharpe in the interim while we‘re tracking down Deidre Binx.”

“That‘s the conspiracy theory guy who was friends with Chase, Chasity‘s father?” Asked Calix.

Danny nodded.

The triplets, Danny and Chance didn‘t waste any time. They met with Chase‘s old best friend as soon as he would allow it. Luckily for them, Dexter Sharpe agreed to meet with them the very same day. They met him at his home which was not too far away from the lookout point Domino. Calix smiled sadly as they drove past the lookout point. He touched the mark on his neck.

Her smell, her eyes, her hair, her voice. They were all so vivid in his memory and his imagination. He could summon the memories of her so easily. He was terrified of them fading as time passed. It would be like losing her twice. He reminded himself she was not lost forever.

The house was dilapidated. It was a narrow but long one–storey wooden home that had not been painted or perhaps every bit of paint had pealed off. The wood had black spots here and there. Calix peered at it more closely. Black mould! Chance pulled him back.

“Be careful, son, you could get sick!” Warned Chance, tugging on his shoulder. Calix was an Alpha. He was much tougher than that but he just smiled at the older werwolf, grateful for the concern.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” said Calix sincerely, moving away from the mould.

Chance beamed.

Felix was already standing on the shaky porch and banging on the rickety door. The door opened abruptly and Felix halted his fist in midair. He grinned sheepishly at the man behind the door as he lowered his fist and put it in the pocket of his coat.

“Dexter Sharpe?” Felix said, raising his eyebrows.

The man stepped out a little from behind the door. He was tall and thin with a gaunt face and large watery blue eyes. His hair was thin and brown.

He had very fuzzy eyebrows like two caterpillars that had taken up residence above his eyes. He did move his fingers often, wiggling them, as the triplets‘ mother had described. Alex wondered if he had a nervous system disorder.

The man had a strange affect but seemed good–natured enough. Instead of answering Felix directly, he launched into a performance.

“Dexter Sharpe?” Parroted the man. “You are under arrest! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law! You had the right to an attorney. If you can‘t afford one, one will be appointed to you…”

“Ok,” said Felix holding his gloved hands up, palms facing forwards, signalling for Dexter to stop. “Our mate, Chasity, is missing!” Said the middle alpha slowly as though each word was physically painful to utter. The man stopped his quoting and nodded, his expression grave.

“Time is of the essence,” said Felix, pleading with the man with his eyes. “Are you Dexter Sharpe?” Felix repeated softly.

“Yes!” Said the man. Felix breathed a sigh of relief. Dexter led them into his house. It was crammed from ceiling to floor with tall shelves and each shelf filled with video tapes, cassettes, CDs, DVDs and books.

There was a television on a stand with more books piled around it. There was a living room set somewhere under the piles of media.

Dexter moved a few stacks of DYDs off of a seat on the couch. Calix insisted that Chance as the eldest present take the seat. The rest stood.

“We‘re sorry for any inconvenience if you were busy or anything…” began Calix.

“Oh, no!” Said Dexter. “I am ready for this moment!”

“So you have an idea of why we‘re here?” Asked Alex.

“It‘s all over the news! I have all of it recorded! Would you like to watch it?” Asked Dexter.

“No! That‘s ok!” Said Felix quickly.

“Your story…the triplet alphas…Chasity‘s disappearance! It‘s all over the news!” Said Dexter, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“What do you know about Chasity?” Asked Calix.

“Past, present or future?” Inquired Dexter, gesturing behind him, next to him and in front of him respectively.

“Start at the beginning,” instructed Felix.

Dexter shrugged. He looked sad all of a sudden. “Chase was my best friend. My only friend,” whispered Dexter.

“I‘m really sorry,” said Calix softly.

“I‘m really sorry! About your mate! Little Luna Chasity!” Exclaimed Dexter.

“Well, she‘s not dead!!” Said Chance suddenly, the older werewolf clutching his chest. Calix rubbed his back.

“I know, I know. Neither is Chase,” said Dexter

Third Person (Somewhere in LA)

“Deidre Binx. Supermodel. Fashionista. Mentor. Guru!‘‘That‘s what I want it to say,” said the Charles von Charles. He was wearing all

leopard print today, everything faux. He wasn‘t an animal! He supported animal rights. He cradled his white Persian cat, Haute, to his chest. His black Persian cat, Couture, was strutting across his desk at his label, Charles von Charles.

“Do you see how Couture walks!” Exclaimed Charles. “The confidence neigh the arrogance, the I belong here and you don‘t of it all.

That‘s how I want the girls to walk in my show!”

His assistant, Soya, was scrupulously taking notes, typing on his iPhone with one hand and writing on a planner with the other. Thank goodness his assistant was ambidextrous. That was the best hiring decision Charles ever made.

Except for her. She was the best hiring decision Charles von Charles ever made. Soya would have to settle for second. He looked adoringly at the framed photograph of the supermodel on the wall of his office.

There were many other supermodels gracing the wall, only the best girls, proficient in runway and in print. He discovered them and he also dressed them.

Haute dashed out of her father‘s arms and onto his desk to join her brother Couture. Haute was a snobby white fluff ball with blue eyes and Couture was a snobbier black fluffier ball with green or yellow eyes depending on the lighting. They did not work in harsh lighting.

They were models too! Charles Smiled at his fur babies and then he looked back at his top model. Even retired she made him millions and millions picking and choosing what jobs she still did. Just the mention of her name made clothes and makeup sell.

And to think, Charles had found her soaking wet and confused, standing in the rain, staring into space, seeming ungainly on her long legs almost as if she didn‘t know her own body. He had made his chauffeur stop his stretch limo for her. Charles remembered it so well.

He rolled down his window. Haute and Couture were not even been born yet. Their mother, Avant and her brother, Garde, were in the car.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, Miss!” He called from the window, raising his voice so she could hear him above the wind and the rain.

She stopped in her tracks and turned her large almond–shaped eyes on him. Her skin was the colour of mocha, smooth and perfect. Her eyes were dark chocolate. Her face was oval–shaped, her neck long, her limbs willowy and fragile–looking.

She had her hair pulled back but it was falling out of its ponytail. Her simple grey tunic dress was drenched but she made it look like fashion. She was fashion. Charles decided she was.

“What job do you do?” He asked, curious.

“Nothing,” said the girl.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“Old enough.”

“Do you want to model?” Charles.

“I want to get out of the rain,” she said simply.

Charles‘ jaw dropped. She was ballsy. She was frank.

“Then get in the car,” said Charles, opening the door.

She got in. Avant and Garde hissed in unison. Charles hushed them and waved for his chauffeur to continue driving. He had lounda diamond in the rough or so he thought.

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