After My Alpha Called His Mistress the New Luna

I became the perfect Luna.

Every morning for a week, I greeted Dani with a warm smile and a cup of herbal tea—the same blend Travis had been poisoning me with for ten years. I thanked her for folding linens. I complimented her efficiency. I assigned her light tasks with gentle encouragement, playing the role of the grateful, exhausted Luna finally receiving help.

"You're such a blessing, Dani," I told her on the third day, handing her a list of pantry inventory. "I don't know how I managed before you arrived."

She ducked her head, all false modesty. "It's my honor to serve, Luna."

Through the bond, I felt Travis's satisfaction pulse warm and smug. He thought I was oblivious. He thought I was grateful he'd brought his mistress into my home.

I pressed two fingers against my fading mark and smiled wider.

The days blurred into a careful rhythm. I ran the pack house. I checked supply logs. I mediated disputes between warriors and organized the upcoming pup education schedule. The same invisible work I'd done for a decade.

But every night, after the pack house fell silent and Travis disappeared to wherever he spent his evenings now, I locked myself in the Luna's study.

The treasury ledgers spread across my desk like a map of betrayal.

I traced the numbers column by column, cross-referencing dates and amounts. Warrior training budgets—gone. Healer supply funds—diverted. The reserve account for pup education—drained in increments over six months.

Tens of thousands of pack dollars, siphoned into shell accounts I'd never authorized.

I pulled delivery logs from the pack archives. Matched dates. A diamond bracelet purchased the same week our healer ran out of antibiotics. A down payment on a private residence outside pack territory the same month we delayed roof repairs on the Omega quarters.

Every page I documented, I sealed with my genuine Luna mark—the one authority Travis thought was just decorative. The one that, under Lycan Council law, made these records legally unassailable evidence.

I built my case one meticulous page at a time.

During the day, I watched Dani.

She touched her neck constantly. Her fingers drifted to the bare skin where an Alpha mark should be, hungry and impatient. She wore heavy floral perfume that made my eyes water, but underneath it I caught something else—the faint, sour tang of rogue territory. Old affiliations she thought she'd buried.

And she was cruel.

I saw it in small moments. The way she snapped at Omega servants when she thought no one was listening. The entitled edge in her voice when she issued commands, as if she were already Luna and they were beneath her.

On the fifth day, I walked past the kitchen and heard her voice, shrill and cutting.

"Move faster, old woman. Are you deaf as well as slow?"

I stepped into the doorway. Sylvia, our elderly healer, stood at the counter with her head bowed, hands trembling as she arranged herbs. Dani loomed over her, arms crossed.

"Dani," I said softly.

She spun, her expression shifting instantly to sweetness. "Luna! I was just—"

"Sylvia, thank you for your work." I crossed to the healer and touched her shoulder gently. "Would you mind checking on Leo and Mia? I'd feel better knowing you're keeping an eye on them."

Sylvia met my eyes. Something passed between us—an understanding that went deeper than words. She squeezed my hand once, briefly, then gathered her herbs and left.

I turned to Dani. Kept my voice warm. "The pups adore her. She's been with this pack longer than anyone."

Dani's smile tightened. "Of course, Luna. I didn't mean—"

"I know." I patted her arm. "You're still learning our ways."

She relaxed. Thought she'd gotten away with it.

I walked away and added another mental note to my growing file.

That weekend, Travis suggested our annual anniversary run.

It was tradition—ten years of running the Ironvale boundary together under the full moon. Except Travis ran in wolf form, and I ran in human skin, because my wolf never came.

Because he poisoned me.

We met at the eastern border as the sun dipped low. Travis shifted, his dark wolf shaking out its fur. I stretched in my running clothes, human and weak and exactly what he expected.

We ran.

His wolf loped easily beside me, powerful and graceful. I pushed my human body hard, keeping pace, sweat soaking through my shirt. Through the bond I felt his distraction. The way his attention kept pulling back toward the pack house. Toward her.

We stopped at the hilltop boundary to watch the sunset. Travis shifted back, pulled on his jeans, and stood beside me. He put his arm around my shoulders.

"Our territory," he said, gesturing at the land spread below us. "Everything we've built together."

I leaned into him. Let my head rest against his shoulder. "It's beautiful."

Inside, the wolf behind my ribs—the one he'd caged with poison for ten years—slammed against its prison so hard my vision blurred. I dug my nails into my palms until the pain cleared my head.

Travis kissed the top of my head. "I'm glad you're happy, Kallie."

I smiled up at him. "I am."

Liar, I thought. Liar, liar, liar.

The family dinner happened on Sunday.

Richard and Margaret insisted on it—the former Alpha and Luna holding court at the head of the table like they still ruled. Travis sat to his father's right. I sat beside him. Leo and Mia flanked me, small and quiet.

Dani served, playing the dutiful Omega. Margaret watched her with approval.

Halfway through the meal, Margaret set down her fork and looked at me.

"A Luna who cannot shift," she said, loud enough for the entire table to hear, "is a Luna in name only."

Leo went still beside me. Mia pressed closer to my side.

Margaret continued, her voice dripping false concern. "Travis deserves a mate worthy of his bloodline. It's been ten years, Kallie. If your wolf hasn't come by now..."

She let the sentence hang.

I waited for Travis to defend me. To say something. Anything.

He cut his steak and said nothing.

I absorbed the blow with a gracious nod. "You're right that the pack deserves the strongest leadership." I turned the conversation smoothly to upcoming warrior training schedules, asking Richard's opinion on rotation strategies.

He took the bait, launching into a lecture. The tension eased.

But I felt Leo flinch. Saw Mia's fingers twist in her napkin.

That night, I tucked them into bed. Smoothed Leo's hair. Kissed Mia's forehead.

"Everything's going to be different soon," I whispered. "I promise."

Leo looked up at me with his father's eyes. "Are you okay, Mama?"

I smiled. "I'm perfect, baby. Go to sleep."

I waited until their breathing evened out. Then I walked back to the Luna's study, pulled out a fresh sheet of formal pack stationery, and sealed another page of evidence.

The stack was growing.

I ran my fingers over the Luna marks pressed into the paper—my authority, my proof, my weapon.

Then I wrote one name at the top of a new page: Rhett Ashford, Lycan Prince.

If Travis wanted to play with Council law, I'd give him Council law.

I began drafting my formal request for an official audit.