The Triplet Alphas' Secret Mate

Chapter 143: Forbidden

Leo’s POV

​The announcer stepped forward, holding the microphone as he prepared to shout her victory to the skies. "And now, for our champion, Samant—"

​"Silence," I growled, cutting him off mid-sentence.

​The stadium went dead quiet. I didn’t wait for an escort. I stepped off the high platform, my boots hitting the dirt with a heavy thud. I walked straight toward the armored figure, my eyes fixed on her.

​Up close, I sized her up. She was taller than my Scarlett. Her body was leaner than the curves I remembered. And her hair, peeking out in thick braids, was as black as coal. Scarlett’s hair had been the color of dark chocolate. Every piece of evidence told me this was not her. My mind knew it, but my soul was acting like a compass pointing North.

​I stood right in front of her. I leaned in and inhaled deeply, but the scent was all wrong. Instead of the vanilla and nutmeg that used to haunt my dreams, I smelled desert rain and bitter, crushed herbs.

​But I didn’t back down. "Take off your helmet," I commanded. "At least the people should see the face of their champion."

​She froze. She looked as if she wanted to bolt, but she stayed rooted to the spot. Slowly, she raised her hands and began to move them in quick, sharp patterns.

furrowing. I knew sign language—my fathers had forced us to learn it for silent communication during hunts. She was telling me she couldn’t

don’t talk?"

​She signed again. Yes.

speaking to that warrior earlier. "Why can’t you remove your helmet?" I pressed,

In our tradition, a

didn’t blink. I didn’t care about their traditions. My wolf was scratching at my insides, screaming that there was something behind that helmet that I needed to see. "I don’t care about the vow," I growled, stepping into her personal space. "In the Full Moon Pack, we look our warriors in the eye. Show

said, stepping off the platform with a worried expression. "Please, respect our ways. She is

them I was acting like a madman because a stranger’s movements reminded me of a dead girl? How could I explain that my wolf was currently trying to tear through my ribs just to get a

her armored face, "then she must spar with me. Just a

tension, their cheers dying out into a heavy, expectant silence. Alpha Musa looked like he wanted to protest, but I didn’t give him the chance. I reached into my belt and pulled

then reached back

every habit she had—how she tucked her shoulder, how she favored her left side when she was tired, the specific way she breathed before an attack. If this woman was

ended a normal warrior. She moved. But she didn’t dodge the way I had trained her, or how Liam and Leonard had taught her. Her movements were quicker, aggressive, and entirely new. She spun the spear with a grace that felt ancient, blocking my blade with the shaft in a way I had

looking for that one familiar slip-up. But there was nothing. Her style was