Leo’s POV
The training room was filled with the sound of my breathing—heavy and full of a restless energy that felt like it was clawing at my skin. I had been hitting the heavy bag for two hours, my knuckles raw and bleeding, but I didn’t care. Physical pain was the only thing that could drown out the silence of this empty life.
The door opened, and the scent of jasmine drifted in. I didn’t even have to look to know it was Bianca. After a year of living in the sa house, just the sll of her made my wolf snarl deep in my mind.
"Leo? You’ve been in here all morning," she said, her voice respectful and careful. She looked at with that sa desperate look she had worn every day for the last twelve months. "My parents are here for the anniversary lunch. Father Lennox is waiting for us in the grand hall."
I ignored her, throwing a punch so hard the bag nearly tore from the ceiling.
"Leo, please," she said, stepping closer. She reached out a hand to touch my sweaty shoulder. "It’s been a year. You can’t keep acting like I don’t exist. We are married. We have a pack to lead together."
Before her fingers could even graze my skin, I spun around. My movent was a blur of anger. I grabbed her wrist, my grip tight enough to make her gasp in pain. I leaned in, my eyes glowing with rage.
"Don’t touch ," I hissed. My voice was like a serrated blade. "I told you that the day we stood at that altar, and I ant it. You might have a ring on your finger, Bianca, but you are nothing to ."
"You’re hurting ," she whispered, her lip trembling.
I looked down at her wrist, seeing the red marks my fingers were leaving, but I didn’t feel a drop of pity. In my head, I saw Scarlett’s face—the way she used to look at with real love, not this fake, desperate look Bianca was giving .
"You want to know what real hurt is?" I asked, pulling her closer until our faces were inches apart. "Real hurt is being forced to wake up every day to see the woman who helped steal my future. You and your sisters played your gas. You used our parents to trap us. Well, you have what you wanted. You’re a Luna. Now, enjoy the life that cos with it."
I shoved her away from . She stumbled back, her eyes filling with tears.
"I did it because I loved you, Leo!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the large room.
I let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Love? You don’t know what love is. Love is sacrifice. Love is truth. You? You are just a parasite clinging to a title."
I walked over to the bench and grabbed my towel, not even looking back at her. "Tell my father I’m not coming to lunch. Tell him if he wants to play happy family, he can do it with your parents. I’m going to the woods. And if you try to follow , Bianca, I’ll show you exactly how ’brutal’ a man without a heart can be."
She stood there, sobbing quietly, but didn’t dare to follow .
I decided to go to the market square instead of the woods. I needed to be around people, even if I didn’t want to talk to them. The sun was high in the sky, and the square was busy with pack mbers going about their day. As I walked, people stopped to bow respectfully, and all I did was give a short nod. I couldn’t bring myself to smile.
I was walking past a small shop when a silver bracelet caught my eye. I stopped, thinking it would look good on my sister, Jane. I walked over to the table to pick it up, but as I reached for it, my breath hitched in my throat.
Lying right next to the silver jewelry were several handmade thread bangles.
I froze, my heart starting to pound. They were made of colorful, woven thread, tied in a very specific pattern. I slowly looked down at my own wrist. Underneath my leather watch band, I still wore the thread bangle Scarlett had given years ago. It was one of the few gifts I never had the heart to destroy.
I frowned, picking one up from the table to look at it closely. The way the threads were knotted was unique—a special tying style I had never seen anywhere else. It was identical to mine. Every loop, every twist of the string was the sa.
"It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Alpha?" the seller said, stepping forward with a smile. She looked down at my wrist and her eyes widened. "Oh! It looks just like yours! What a lucky coincidence."
I didn’t feel lucky. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
"Where did you get these?" I asked, my voice coming out low and tight, filled with unease. "Who made them?"
The seller looked a bit nervous at my tone. "Oh, I didn’t make them myself, Alpha. I bought them from a traveling rchant who just returned from a trip to Nigeria. He said they are very popular in the mountain packs over there. They call them ’protection knots.’"
Nigeria.
The word echoed in my head like a gunshot. Nigeria was thousands of miles away across the ocean. Why was a rchant bringing back sothing that looked exactly like a gift Scarlett had made for by hand? She had told she learned the pattern from an old book her grandmother owned. It wasn’t supposed to be common.
"Do you have the na of the rchant?" I demanded, leaning over the table.
"I... I think his na was Mat, Alpha," she stamred, shrinking back from my gaze. "He usually stays at the inn near the border, but he was planning to leave for the southern packs this morning."
I dropped the bangle back onto the table and turned on my heel, forgetting all about the gift for Jane. My mind was a ss of confusion and a strange, painful hope I didn’t want to feel.
It was impossible. Scarlett was dead. I saw her scattered body... seers confird it, but the mont I saw that bangle, everything I thought I believed was gone.
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