Leo's POV
The morning air was cold, biting at my skin as if the world itself were trying to wake me up from this nightmare. But there was no waking up.
I stood at the edge of the pack's ceremonial grounds, staring at the sea of black. Hundreds of people had gathered, their heads bowed, some even wiping away fake tears. I felt a surge of pure disgust. I looked at the crowd—the same people who had whispered behind Scarlett's back, the same people who had treated her like an outsider for two years because we had led the way. Now, they stood here pretending to be in pain.
They had no right to be here. They had no right to look like they cared when they had helped make her life a living hell.
I looked at Liam and Leon standing beside me. We had refused to wear the black mourning clothes our father had laid out for us. We stood in our usual dark tactical gear, our faces like stone. We weren't mourning because, in our hearts, we were still fighting the truth.
