The Triplet Alphas' Secret Mate-Chapter 82: Possessive

​Scarlett’s POV

​The bluntness of the question made my blood run cold. I thought of Ethan’s hands on me, then I thought of the way he had just called me a thing he’d paid for. My stomach turned.

​"It’s none of your business," I spat, my voice shaking with anger and exhaustion.

​Leon’s expression shifted in an instant. The sluggishness vanished, replaced by a flash of raw, Alpha rage. He lunged forward, his hand snapping around my arm with a grip like iron.

​"You are my mate!" he roared, pulling me toward him until I was forced to stand, my face inches from his. "My mate, Scarlett! Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel another man’s touch on the woman tied to your soul?"

​Before I could breathe, he crashed his lips against mine. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a collision. It tasted like beer, desperation, and a possessiveness that made me feel like I was drowning. There was no tenderness, no love—just the crushing weight of another triplet trying to claim a piece of me.

​I didn’t melt. I didn’t give in. My rage was louder than the bond.

​I bit down on his lower lip, hard.

​Leon let out a pained grunt and jerked back, his hand flying to his mouth. A bead of blood formed on his lip. He looked at me, shocked, his eyes wide.

​"Get out," I hissed, my chest heaving, my finger pointing toward the balcony. "Get out right now, Leon. If you don’t, I’ll scream. I’ll scream so loud the whole pack will hear, and I don’t care what kind of chaos it starts."

​Leon stared at me, the blood trickling down his chin. He looked as if he wanted to roar, to tear the room apart, but the anger in my eyes must have finally registered. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze lingering on me one last time.

​He parted his lips, his throat working as if he were about to plead or roar, but the words died before they could reach the air. His eyes, once hazy with alcohol and possessiveness, cleared just enough to show a flicker of raw, obvious pain.

​Without another word, he turned on his heel and vaulted over the balcony railing, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

​I didn’t wait to see where he went. I went for the balcony door, my hands trembling so hard I could barely grip the handle. I slammed it shut and threw the bolt.

​My room, which had always been my only sanctuary, now felt like a cage.

​I stripped off the gown and threw it into the corner. I pulled on a thick, oversized shirt that swallowed my frame and crawled into bed. I didn’t just lie down; I curled into a ball, pulling the heavy duvet over my head until I was buried in the dark.

​I woke up the next morning feeling utterly drained, my muscles aching as if I’d actually shifted and run for miles. But I pushed myself up. I couldn’t stay hidden in this room forever.

​Today was the Festival of the Blood Moon. It was one of the most intense traditions in our pack—a day where the female wolves would draw a male’s name from the sacred box. Once paired, they had to compete as a team in the Gauntlet, a series of brutal challenges including a five-mile hunt through the dense woods, hand-to-hand combat trials, and a final test of instinct.

I ​had never been allowed to participate before. As the "traitor’s daughter," I was usually pushed to the sidelines, but today was different. I was Alpha Ethan’s guest... his fiancée, although in name only.

​I took a quick, stinging cold bath to wake my senses. I pulled my long brown hair into a tight, high ponytail and dressed for the occasion: a pair of form-fitting tactical leggings, a dark compression shirt, and my sturdiest combat boots. I looked in the mirror at the faint shadows under my eyes and drew in a deep breath.

​I left my room without eating; my stomach was too knotted with nerves for food.

​When I reached the large field, it was already jam-packed. The morning sun was climbing high. The energy was electric—excited yips and low growls filled the air. This wasn’t just for fun—the winning pair would receive valuable rewards.

​I stood near the edge of the crowd, looking around. Ethan was nowhere to be seen, which made my heart twist with a strange mix of relief and bitterness. But Elara was there. She stood near the dais, looking radiant in her red leather gear. She caught my eye for a split second but looked at me with a blank stare before she looked away, leaning in to whisper to another high-ranking female.

​The triplets—my mates—were already on the platform.

​Liam stood at the center, looking every bit the Alpha in his dark training gear, his eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk.

​Leo was to his left, looking tense, his jaw working as he searched the sea of faces until his eyes locked onto mine. A flash of something—longing, maybe?—crossed his face.

​Leon was on the right, his lower lip looking slightly bruised from where I had bitten him. He looked hungover and exhausted, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

​"Listen up!" Liam’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd instantly. "It is time for partners to pair. Females, step forward to the urn. Your partner for the Gauntlet is in the hands of the Goddess."

​The line began to move. My heart hammered against my ribs as I wondered who I would be paired with.

​As I reached the front of the line, the Elder held out the black wooden box.

My hand trembled as I reached inside, my fingers brushing the folded slips.

​I pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

My breath stopped.

Of all the names I could have pulled... it was his."