The Triplet Alphas' Secret Mate

Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Followed Me

​Scarlett’s POV

​I slipped out of the back servants’ entrance, moving like a ghost through the long shadows of the late afternoon. The packhouse was buzzing with preparations for tomorrow’s festivities; tomorrow, being my birthday, is also the memorial day for Luna Olivia.

​I walked until my lungs burned, pushing through thorns and thick brush until I reached the ruins. This was where we had lived before the world broke. Our small cottage was mostly reclaimed by the earth now, the roof caved in and covered in moss.

​Behind the skeleton of the house, I sank to my knees before two small mounds of earth.

​When they executed my parents, they didn’t give them a proper burial. They threw their bodies into the deep ravine at the edge of the territory, letting the scavengers have what was left. They said traitors didn’t deserve a place in the pack’s hallowed ground.

​So, I had come here. I had buried my mother’s favorite silk scarf and my father’s old carving knife. I had built them a home in the soil because I had nowhere else to visit them.

​"I’m leaving," I whispered, the words catching in my throat as I touched the cold, damp earth of my mother’s "grave."

​A single tear fell, disappearing into the dirt. "The Alphas are sending me away tomorrow night. I won’t be here to clear the weeds anymore. I won’t be here to tell you about my week."

I felt small and utterly alone. For two years, this spot had been my only comfort, the only place where I wasn’t the servant or

until my forehead touched the ground between the two graves. "I

there until the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of bruised purple and orange. The air was getting colder, the scent of the coming night

would come looking for me, and I couldn’t risk them seeing this place. I

​"Goodbye," I whispered.

the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The forest was

a scent hit me—heavy, dark, and smelling of burnt wood

​Leon.

twenty feet away, leaning against a gnarled oak tree with his arms crossed. He didn’t look angry; he

"I’ve been following your scent for miles, Scarlett. I

I tried to walk past him, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I was sure he could hear it.

of my face. The silence of the forest seemed to amplify the sound of my ragged breathing. I

grab me roughly this time. Instead, he boxed me in, his large hands flat against the gnarled bark of the tree behind me, pinning

in, his nose brushing against my temple as he inhaled deeply, scenting the salt of my tears and the

he caught my chin, forcing my

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