Chapter 135: The Spell

Leo’s POV

​I ran through the crowded streets, pushing past people until I reached the edge of the village where the border inn stood. My lungs burned—not from the run, but from the weight of a hope I was too terrified to name.

​I burst through the heavy wooden doors of the inn, my Alpha presence making the room go silent. I didn’t care about being polite. I scanned the room until I saw a man packing a leather bag in a corner.

​"Mat?" I growled.

​The man jumped, dropping a bundle of furs. "Yes, Alpha? How can I help you?"

​I didn’t waste time. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the thread bangle I had taken from the market stall, holding it right in front of his face. "Where did you get this? And don’t tell me ’Nigeria.’ I want to know exactly who made it."

​Mat swallowed hard, his eyes darting to my raw, bloodied knuckles. "It was... it was from a small village in the mountains of Nigeria, Alpha. A local market. I bought a whole batch of them because they were so unique."

​"Who made them?" I pressed, my voice dropping—low, tight, almost unwilling to ask. "Was it... a young woman?"

​Mat shook his head quickly. "No, Alpha. It was an old lady. A healer, I think. She said the pattern was ancient."

​No.

had to be her. It

racing, suddenly felt like it had been dunked in ice water. An old woman. Of course. What was I thinking? I was a fool. Scarlett had been dead for three years. I had seen the "remains" after

in my hand. Maybe Scarlett wasn’t the only one who knew the pattern. Maybe that old book

"Did she have a book?

She was just a lonely old woman selling her crafts to travelers.

I snapped, tossing the bangle back

a war zone. What was I thinking? Was I really hoping that a piece of string meant she was still alive? I was an Alpha, yet I was acting like a child chasing a

what I had found. They were already struggling enough, and I didn’t want to give them a false hope that would only end in more pain. Scarlett was dead. I had to accept that once and for all. I had

I skipped the anniversary lunch entirely, went straight to my wing of the house, and took a long, cold bath. I needed the ice-cold water to numb my skin and quiet my racing thoughts. Afterward, I lay on the bed and forced myself to close my eyes, hoping that sleep would take away the noise in

I had been asleep, but a strange sensation pulled me back to consciousness. I felt hands moving over me—soft, but they felt

felt wrong—thick, bitter, like something

saw Bianca leaning over me. But something was wrong. The room itself felt poisoned, heavy with the sharp scent of burnt herbs. I realized immediately that she was casting a spell on me. My wolf,

played on me a year ago. But she had no idea that my brothers and I had spent the last twelve months fortifying ourselves. We had trained our minds and our wolves to resist outside influence. We were no longer the innocent, naive

working. I wanted

her voice sounding unnatural and forced. "I command you to stay still and

blew a puff of air toward my face, and a dark, shimmering substance floated out of her mouth. It was a compulsion spell, meant to strip away my will. She leaned down, her

disgust so deep it made my blood boil. I didn’t just want her away from me; I

could touch mine, something inside

her shoulders—hard—and drove my full

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