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.

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

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

died before they could reach the air. His eyes, once hazy with alcohol and possessiveness, cleared just enough to show

his heel and vaulted over the balcony railing, disappearing into the darkness of

my hands trembling so hard I could barely grip the handle. I slammed

been my only sanctuary, now felt

on a thick, oversized shirt that swallowed my frame and crawled into bed. I didn’t just lie down; I

as if I’d actually shifted and run

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

As the "traitor’s daughter," I was usually pushed to the sidelines, but today was different. I was

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

my room without eating; my stomach was

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

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

already