After My Alpha Killed My Mother to Save His Mistress

The diplomatic trip to the Lycan King's territory had been grueling. Two weeks of political maneuvering, careful negotiations, and maintaining the perfect image of the Silvercrest Pack. All I wanted was to sink into Julius's arms and forget the stress.

I'd managed to return a day early. A surprise I knew he'd appreciate.

The Pack House smelled of pine and freshly baked bread as I entered, but something felt off. The usual warmth of homecoming was missing.

"He's probably in his office," I murmured to myself, making my way through the familiar corridors.

My wolf, Luna, stirred within me. *Something's wrong*, she whispered.

"It's just been a long trip," I assured her, but she remained agitated.

I pushed open the door to our private quarters, expecting to find Julius waiting. Instead, the room was empty, but the scent hit me like a physical blow.

Cloying. Sickly-sweet. Floral.

It wasn't just another woman's scent. It was an Omega's heat mingled with the distinct musk of post-coital arousal.

Luna growled, the sound rumbling up my throat before I could stop it.

"Paige? You're back early." Julius appeared in the doorway, his shirt half-buttoned. "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."

I crossed the room and hugged him, burying my face in his neck. The cedar scent that always calmed me was tainted now, layered with traces of someone else.

"What is that smell on you?" I asked, pulling back to look at him.

His eyes darted away. "Pack business. Some of the Omegas needed... assistance with their quarters. It's been a busy few days."

Luna snarled within me, recognizing the lie. *He smells like sex. Like her.*

"I need a shower," he said, awkwardly pulling away. "Didn't expect you back so soon."

As he turned, I caught sight of something on his neck—a scratch mark, fresh and deep. Not the kind of wound that came from battle or patrol.

"Julius," I said quietly, "what happened to your neck?"

He touched the mark, his expression flickering. "Nothing. Just a branch caught me during border patrol."

But we both knew the lie.

---

The next morning, I headed to Julius's office to file my diplomatic report. The Lycan King had made several suggestions about strengthening our territory's defenses—suggestions Julius needed to hear immediately.

I pushed open the office door without knocking. As Luna, I had that right.

The scene before me froze my blood.

Briella Woods sat behind the Alpha's desk—a place forbidden to Omegas—her fingers drumming casually on the mahogany surface as she barked orders at two senior staff members.

"I need those reports by noon," she was saying, her voice dripping with false authority. "And make sure the northern border patrols are doubled. The Alpha wants it done yesterday."

The staff looked uncomfortable but didn't contradict her.

"Briella." My voice cut through the room like ice. "What exactly are you doing?"

She turned slowly, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Luna Paige! I didn't expect you back so soon."

"You're sitting in the Alpha's chair," I said, stepping closer. "You're giving orders to senior staff. What part of pack protocol allows for that?"

"Oh, I was just helping out while the Alpha was busy." She gestured vaguely. "He said I could use his desk to organize some files."

"Get out of that chair. Now."

She didn't move. Instead, her eyes flicked toward the door where Julius had appeared.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.

"I'm filing my diplomatic report," I said, using my Luna Voice—the authority that came with my position. "Briella needs to leave."

"Just relax, Paige," Julius said, his tone condescending. "She was just helping organize some files. The staff needs direction while I handle more pressing matters."

Briella's smirk widened as she reluctantly stood. "Of course, Luna. Whatever you say."

The way she said my title made it sound like an insult.

---

That evening, as I dressed for a minor pack dinner, I opened my jewelry box for a simple pair of earrings.

Something was wrong. The velvet lining was disturbed, items shifted from their usual places.

My fingers trembled as I searched through the layers.

No.

No, no, no.

The Moonstone necklace—my mother's most prized possession, passed down through generations of Lunas—was gone.

I could still remember her words as she placed it around my neck on my mating day: "This stone has seen countless moons, Paige. It will guide you when I cannot."

Frantic, I searched the entire room, but knew deep down it was futile.

At dinner, I scanned the room for any sign of the thief. And then I saw her—Briella, serving wine to the elders, her Omega uniform tightly fitted to her curves.

There, nestled against her collarbone, was my mother's necklace. The moonstone pendant glowed faintly against her skin.

Our eyes met across the room. Instead of looking away guiltily, she deliberately fingered the pendant, a slow smile spreading across her face.

In that moment, I understood.

This wasn't just an affair. This was a declaration of war.