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.
