novelraw Chapter 120: Trap (2)
Chapter 120: Trap (2)
Third-Person POV
Leo’s instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
That scent—too sweet, too sharp. It wrapped around his lungs, choking him. His wolf thrashed violently inside him, claws ripping against his ribs, desperate to break free.
But his body wouldn’t listen.
"Scarlett..." he breathed, his voice weak, almost broken.
She moved closer, her steps slow and careful. Every movement was perfect. Too perfect. The girl he remembered never moved like this—never so controlled, so... calculated.
"I’m here, Leo," she whispered, her fingers brushing his cheek.
Cold.
Scarlett was never cold.
His brows pulled together slightly, confusion cutting through the haze. "No..." he murmured, his head shaking weakly. "You don’t feel right..."
Her hand paused for a split second.
Then she smiled—soft, gentle, exactly like Scarlett used to.
"Don’t fight me," she said. "You’re just tired."
Tired.
Yes... he was so tired.
His vision blurred, the room spinning slowly. His wolf’s voice grew distant, like it was being dragged underwater.
Fight it!
Leo’s fingers twitched against the sheets. He tried to push himself up, tried to create distance—but his arms refused to obey.
The figure leaned closer, her hair falling around them like a curtain, trapping him in her scent.
"I came back for you," she whispered again.
For a moment... just one moment... he wanted to believe it.
The pain of the past two years pressed against his chest, crushing him. The empty nights. The silence. The guilt.
What if it was true?
What if she really came back?
His resistance faltered.
Her lips brushed his, soft and familiar—but something still felt wrong. There was no warmth. No bond. No spark.
Just emptiness.
Leo’s eyes widened slightly.
This isn’t her.
Panic surged through him. He tried to turn his head, to break away—but his body betrayed him again. His muscles locked, heavy and useless.
His wolf roared one last time, loud and furious... then silence.
He tried to grab her hands, to push her away, but his grip was weak. He could only watch, paralyzed, as she stripped him of his clothes.
Just like in Liam’s room, the woman worked with a cold, desperate speed. She knew the spell wouldn’t last forever. She lifted her dress, revealing her own vulnerability, and lowered herself onto him. She let out a sharp cry of pain as she broke her own innocence, her body tensing as she forced the union.
Leo’s mind was a battlefield. He wanted to scream, to roar at the injustice of it, but he was trapped in a body that wouldn’t move. He felt her rhythm, the frantic, stolen intimacy that felt all wrong. By the time she reached her end, Leo had slipped into a forced, dark sleep.
A few minutes later, the girl stood up and straightened her hair. She looked at the blood on the sheets—the evidence of her "purity"—and a smirk touched her lips. She walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway.
Sir Levi was standing there, his face pale and drawn. He looked like a man who had sold his soul to the devil.
"Is it done?" he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper.
"It’s done, Father," Bianca said, her voice shifting back to her own sharp tone. "He’s mine now."
Levi closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the betrayal pressing down on him. He loved his son, but he couldn’t watch Leo waste away anymore. He walked into the room, his boots silent on the carpet. He arranged Leo’s limp body, scattering empty liquor bottles around the bed to create the scene of a drunken mistake.
He looked at his son—the proud Alpha reduced to a prop in a lie—and felt a wave of nausea. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop now. He turned and walked out, leaving Bianca to crawl back into the bed and wait for the morning to arrive.
Leon was the last to fall. He was always the strongest of the three when it came to discipline, the one with the most control. As he walked toward his suite, he felt the shift in the air. The scent of sweet decay hit his nose, and his wolf immediately bared its teeth.
Trap, the beast growled.
Leon reached for the handle of his door, his jaw set. He felt the wave of leaden heaviness hit his limbs, but he fought it. He stayed standing, his hand white-knuckled on the doorknob. He was an Alpha... he couldn’t be charmed. But even a fortress can be brought down by a charm fueled by his own blood.
He stumbled into the room, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He didn’t fall to the bed like his brothers; he collapsed to one knee on the hard floor, his head bowed.
"Stay... back..." he rasped, his eyes glowing a fierce, golden amber.
A shadow moved from behind the velvet curtains. A woman stepped out, her long, chocolate-brown hair swaying. She looked like a vision of the past. She looked like the only woman he had ever loved.
"Leon," she whispered. "My brave Leon. Your Scarlett is here."
"You... are not her," Leon groaned; the words cost him everything. He tried to summon his power, to shift and tear the intruder apart, but the blood magic was designed specifically for his DNA. It turned his own strength against him.
Talia walked toward him, her footsteps light. She knelt in front of him and cupped his face. Her hands smelled of lilies—too sweet, too cloying. Not like Scarlett’s scent of rain.
"I’m here to take the pain away," she lied.
She pressed her lips to his, and the drug in her lipstick acted as the final blow. Leon’s golden eyes faded, the fire going out as he slumped forward into her arms. She struggled for a moment under his massive weight, but eventually, she managed to heave him onto the bed.
She worked quickly, her heart racing. She had seen the light in Leon’s eyes and knew she had almost failed. She stripped him of his clothes, her eyes lingering on his powerful frame; then she lifted her gown.
She lowered herself onto him, a cry of genuine pain escaping her as she felt the tear of her own maidenhead. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to move, to finish the act that would bind him to her forever. Leon lay beneath her, his face filled with silent suffering, trapped in a dream where he was watching Scarlett die all over again.
When it was over, Talia didn’t smirk; she breathed a sigh of relief. She had done it. She had secured her place as a Luna.
She stepped out into the hallway, where Sir Louis was pacing like a caged animal. He looked up, his face lined with deep, heavy wrinkles of guilt.
"Is my son... is he secure?" Louis asked, his voice shaking.
"He is mine, Sir Louis," Talia said firmly. "The deed is done."
Louis entered the room with a heavy heart. He looked at Leon—his pride and joy—lying there like a broken soldier. He felt a deep sense of shame as he threw the empty whiskey bottles onto the floor and messed up the sheets to hide the signs of the struggle. He was a father, and he told himself this was for Leon’s own good. He couldn’t let his son die.
He left the room, his head bowed. Talia climbed into the bed next to the unconscious Leon, tucking herself into his side.
As the night began to deepen, the three sisters lay in the beds of the three brothers, who would wake up soon, realizing their world would never be the same again.