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.

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

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

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

his heel and vaulted over the balcony

I went for the balcony door, my hands trembling so hard I could barely

always been my only sanctuary, now felt

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

muscles aching as if I’d actually shifted and run for miles. But I

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

​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

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

left my room without eating; my stomach

climbing high. The energy was electric—excited yips and low

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

already on the