The Triplet Alphas' Secret Mate

Chapter 142: Who’s She

​Leo’s POV

​I leaned back in the carved wooden chair, the heat of the Nigerian sun pressing heavily against my skin. Usually, I could tolerate these events, but today, my wolf was pacing behind my ribs, restless and irritable. The Alphas beside me were talking about trade and territory, their voices a low noise that I tuned out.

​Ever since we landed, I felt like I was walking through a fog. Everything felt... off.

​Groups of warriors stepped onto the field, bowing in unison. I barely looked at them. I knew the game. Some female fighters were already throwing scent at me, trying to catch my eye with a flick of their hair or a flex of their muscles. They wanted a piece of a Full Moon Alpha. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

​But then, I felt it.

​It wasn’t a scent.

It wasn’t a sound.

It was a pull...like a hook catching in my chest.

​My head snapped toward the field. My eyes locked onto a figure dressed in charcoal-colored armor. The visor was dark, hiding everything, but the intensity coming from that warrior was strange.

For a split second, our gazes met. The air in my lungs turned to ice. I couldn’t see her eyes...but I felt a soul staring back at me.

​Then, the warrior looked away.

that?" I muttered,

fighters prefer to stay nameless. They don’t want the fame; they just want the win. There are

way she moved. She wasn’t the only one in armor, but she was the only one who made my wolf stop pacing

"Next match: warrior Samantha

a struggle, but what I saw was a goddamn

danced around her opponent’s heavy blows. Before a minute had even passed, she used her opponent’s own weight against him, sweeping his legs

my hands gripping the edge of the gallery

I hadn’t seen a female fighter that skilled in years. There was a precision in her strikes,

field to rest as the wolf-form fights began. The crowd roared as massive wolves tore

tall, black warrior. They started talking, his hand resting

fake title—and I couldn’t even see the color of her skin. In this part of the world, she was almost certainly a local

Leo?" Alpha Ali asked from behind me,

fighter," I said, pointing a finger toward the girl in the charcoal suit. "The one

​"Why the interest?"

that for the first time in

my eyes narrowing as she laughed at something the warrior said.

skin pricked when she was near. It was the impossible feeling that among thousands of

charcoal grey. Match after match, she was relentless. She didn’t just win; she dismantled her opponents. The crowd was starting to notice, too. The whispers were growing into

final match

man—a warrior nearly twice her size with arms the size of tree trunks. He was the Iron-Claw’s champion, and he