The Triplet Alphas' Secret Mate

Chapter 118: Seeing Her Again

Liam’s POV (Two years after Scarlett fake death)

​Two years.

​Two years had passed since we lowered an empty casket into the red dirt of the North Woods. Two years since the light in the mansion went out, replaced by a cold silence that reeked of whiskey and grief. We were no longer the vibrant young Alphas the pack once admired. We were statues. Stone-faced, efficient, and utterly hollow.

​The Hall, once a place of celebration, felt like a courtroom today. I stood by the window, my back to the room, staring out at the forest where my soul had died.

​"Never, Father!" I roared, the sound vibrating in my chest. I turned around, my eyes glowing with a dangerous, unstable fury. "I am not marrying Camilla. I’ve told those women to leave this packhouse more times than I can count. My brothers and I are not getting married to them!"

​I gestured wildly toward the door, my rage bubbling over. "My brothers can do what they want. If they want to tie themselves to those leeches, that’s their business. But I will not. Not today, not ever."

​Leo, who was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, let out a sharp, bitter laugh. He spat on the floor, his eyes darting to me with a look of pure annoyance. "Don’t be stupid, Liam. Who told you I want to marry any of those sisters? I’d rather walk back into that ravine and let the rogues tear me apart than touch one of them."

​Leon was the only one who didn’t speak. He sat in a heavy oak chair, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly that the wood was beginning to groan and crack under his strength. He was fuming, a dark cloud of scent and shadow surrounding him that warned everyone to stay back.

​Father Louis stepped forward, his face etched with a frustration that had been building for twenty-four months. "You men have to marry them. It is time. These girls—Camilla, Bianca, and Talia—have been engaged to you for two years. They have waited. They have been patient while you three wallowed in your misery."

​"I have always denied my relationship with them!" I yelled, stepping into my father’s space. "I made it clear from day one that I didn’t want them. If they refused to leave this packhouse and chose to stay here like parasites, that is their business, not mine. I owe them nothing."

​"Liam, listen to reason," Father Louis countered, his voice rising. "The Triplet Sisters are the best match in the five territories. Think of the lineage! They are royalty. They are skilled in politics and combat. They are untouched, pure, and they bring a massive dowry of land and warriors. They are the perfect Lunas for the Full Moon Pack."

​I glared at him, my lip curling in a snarl. "They are not my Scarlett. And since they are not her... I can’t imagine life with another woman. I can’t even imagine sharing a meal with them, let alone a bed."

word he spoke felt like he was throwing dirt

voice cut through the

​"Fathers... please leave."

the first words he had spoken all morning. His voice was devoid of emotion,

in Leon’s eyes and realized they had pushed us as far as they could for one day. Without another word, they turned and left the study, the heavy doors thudding shut

reason why they are still here, eating our food and occupying our rooms. For two years, we have ignored them. We’ve treated them like ghosts. If they haven’t gotten the hint by now, I’ll spell it out for them as I

muttered. "Tomorrow, they

his footsteps echoing down the hall. Leon stayed

dream last night," Leon said

talked about it. It was too painful to bring the ghosts

little, "I saw Scarlett. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t in the pack. She was in a bright room with tall windows...

to hide her sketches under her bed. I remembered the

her dream was cut short because

with grief. "She’s gone, Liam. And every

the room without another word. I was left alone in the darkening hall. I checked the clock on the mantle; it was only 8 PM. It was far too early

and the crushing reality of an empty packhouse. It was only when I slept that I got to meet her. Only in

my way to my bedroom. I didn’t turn on the lights. I didn’t need them. I knew

who had been mostly silent and depressed for two years, stirred violently. He didn’t howl; he growled—a low, warning vibration deep in

wrong,

high alert. I scanned the shadows of the room, my nose twitching for a scent, but I found nothing out

back on the bed, intending to just close my eyes for a second, but a strange sensation washed over me. My body suddenly felt heavy—unnaturally heavy. It was as