CHAPTER 101: CHAPTER 101: IMPORTANCE OF A MARK

Hazel’s POV

I jolted awake with a gasp, my heart racing. The room spun for a moment before settling into focus. Soft morning light filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating an unfamiliar space.

My mind felt foggy. The last thing I remembered was Leo bringing me food after our pregnancy test confrontation. I’d been so hungry that I’d eaten a few bites despite my suspicions.

“Drugged,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “The food was drugged.”

I pushed myself up from the comfortable bed and took in my surroundings. This wasn’t the sterile room I’d been kept in before. This space was lived-in, personal. The walls were painted a soft gray, with blue accents throughout—throw pillows, a rug, artwork. The furniture was sleek and modern but showed signs of use.

This wasn’t a cell. It was someone’s bedroom.

I slid out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The room was spacious, with the large windows offering a view of a city I didn’t recognize—tall buildings stretching toward the sky, cars like tiny ants moved along the streets far below.

“Where the hell am I?” I whispered, approaching the windows.

I pressed my palms against the glass, but it didn’t budge. Sealed shut. And even if I could break it, we were at least twenty floors up. Jumping would mean certain death.

A quick survey of the room revealed a bathroom, a walk-in closet filled with men’s clothing, and a small sitting area with bookshelves. The whole space smelled faintly of sandalwood—masculine but not overpowering.

It smelled... oddly comforting.

Moving to the closet, I fingered through the shirts hanging there. Business casual, mostly, with a few t-shirts and hoodies. All expensive brands. Nothing gave me any hints about where I was or who owned this place.

The nightstand drawers held nothing interesting—just a few books, a phone charger, and some over-the-counter sleeping pills. The dresser contained neatly folded clothes, but again, nothing personal.

My gaze landed on a desk in the corner. I walked over and began rifling through the drawers. Most contained ordinary office supplies—pens, paper clips, sticky notes. The bottom drawer was locked.

“Of course,” I muttered.

I ran my fingers along the underside of the desk and paused when I felt an irregularity. Pressing the spot, I heard a soft click. A hidden compartment in the desk slid open.

Inside lay a single photograph.

I picked it up, and my breath caught in my throat. It was me—or at least, it looked exactly like me. In the photo, I was smiling, caught mid-laugh. My hair was blowing slightly in the wind, and sunlight lit up my face. I looked genuinely happy.

But I had no memory of this photo being taken. I also did not own a dress like that.

“What the hell?” I whispered, staring at my own face.

“What are you doing?”

I whirled around, nearly dropping the photo. Leo stood in the doorway, his expression morphing from surprise to anger when he saw what I was holding.

“How do you have a picture of me?” I demanded, holding up the photo.

Leo’s eyes widened. In three quick strides, he crossed the room and snatched the picture from my hands.

“Where did you find this?” he growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

“In your desk,” I answered, refusing to back down. “Why do you have a picture of me? Have you been stalking me?”

“Don’t touch things that don’t belong to you,” he snapped, carefully placing the photo back in the compartment and sealing it shut. “It’s rude to snoop through other people’s belongings.”

“You’re one to talk,” I snapped. “It’s not particularly polite to kidnap someone either.”

Leo clenched his jaw but said nothing in reply.

“Where am I?” I asked, changing tactics. “Whose room is this?”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “Mine.”

“Yours?” I looked around again. The room suddenly felt more intimate, knowing it belonged to him. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because our other accommodations weren’t suitable for a long-term stay,” he answered coolly. “As I told you yesterday, we’re moving to a more permanent location.”

“And that location is your bedroom?” I raised an eyebrow.

A hint of a smirk touched his lips. “For now. Do you find it comfortable, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped. “And you still haven’t explained why you have a picture of me. When was it even taken? I don’t remember ever being photographed like that.”

Leo’s expression darkened. “Drop it, Hazel. Some questions are better left unanswered.”

“No,” I stepped closer to him, refusing to be intimidated. “I deserve answers. You kidnapped me, drugged me, and now I find out you’ve been keeping pictures of me? What kind of sick game are you playing?”

He loomed over me, his eyes boring into mine. “You know nothing about what’s happening here.”

“Then tell me!” I shouted, frustration boiling over.

Something shifted in his expression. Pain flashed across his eyes before it was quickly masked by anger.

“You’re here because you belong here. With me. Not with them.”

The intensity in his voice made my heart race. Leo was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. The smell of sandalwood enveloped me. Now I knew that was Leo’s scent.

“I belong with my mates,” I said firmly, even as my traitorous body reacted to his proximity.

In one swift movement, Leo pressed me against the wall, one hand beside my head. The move trapped me between his body and the wall.

“Those three don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. His eyes flicked down to my neck, and his expression hardened.

Before I could react, his hand dipped into his pocket, pulling out a small tub. He quickly unscrewed it, revealing a white cream.

“What are you—”

Leo pulled down the collar of my shirt slightly, exposing the mark the triplets had left on me. Without warning, he smeared the cream over it.

I gasped, shocked by both the coolness of the cream and the audacity of his action.

“What the hell did you just put on me?” I reached up to wipe it away, but he caught my wrist.

“Don’t touch it,” he ordered. The area tingled slightly but wasn’t painful.

“Are you insane?” I demanded, struggling against his grip. “Do you have any idea what a mate mark means to a wolf? You can’t just put random crap on it!”

“I know exactly what it means,” Leo said coldly. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

He released my wrist and turned away, clearly considering the conversation over.

Rage surged through me. I lunged forward, grabbing at his arm. “You don’t get to walk away after that!”

Leo spun around, but my momentum was already carrying me forward. My fingers caught in the fabric of his shirt as I stumbled. There was a ripping sound as the material tore.

We both froze.

Through the torn fabric, I could clearly see a mark on his neck—a mate mark. It was slightly faded and rough around the edges, but unmistakable in its significance. Someone had claimed him.

Leo had a mate.