After My Alpha Replaced Me With His Mistress

The bond was still hemorrhaging. I could feel it draining—three years of warmth turning to ice in my chest, the mark on my neck cold and empty like a door that used to open into something and now opened into nothing.

But my wolf—

My wolf, who I'd kept buried under wolfsbane for three years, who I'd poisoned into silence every morning with tinctures I brewed in secret—was awake.

Not fully. Not yet. But awake enough that I could feel her slamming against the chemical cage I'd built around her. The wolfsbane was still holding. Barely. My hands trembled against the stone floor. A visible tremor I couldn't control.

I pressed both palms flat. Focused. Breathed.

The suppression held. For now.

I raised my head.

Lawson was still standing there with his arms folded, waiting for me to leave. Mckenzie was still seated in my chair, her smile sharp and satisfied. The pack was still silent, every wolf in the hall watching to see what I would do.

I met Lawson's eyes across the hall.

"I will not accept."

My voice didn't shake. Three years of Silvercrest court training held even when everything else was breaking.

The silence in the hall changed. Became heavier. Denser.

Lawson's jaw tightened. "What?"

"I will not accept the rejection," I said again. Louder this time. Clear enough that every wolf present could hear. "The bond is not severed."

It was true. Technically. A rejection vow required both parties to complete the severance. He'd spoken his part. But I hadn't accepted. Hadn't released my claim. The bond was torn and agonizing and barely holding—but it wasn't gone.

Not yet.

Lawson stared at me like I'd just spoken a language he didn't understand. Then his face darkened.

"You don't get to refuse," he said. The Alpha tone in his voice was sharper now. Meant to make me submit. Meant to force compliance.

It didn't work.

I was still on my knees on the stone floor, one hand pressed against the cold mark on my neck, but I didn't lower my gaze. Didn't look away.

"The Moon Goddess gave me a choice," I said quietly. "I'm making it."

Mckenzie's smile vanished. She rose from the Luna's chair—my chair—and stepped forward. Her red dress moved like blood in the torchlight.

"This is pathetic," she said. Her voice carried across the hall with a confidence I recognized. The confidence of someone who'd rehearsed this moment. Who'd planned every word. "You're embarrassing yourself, Eleanora. You're embarrassing the pack."

She turned to face the assembled wolves. Addressed them like she already had authority.

"A Luna who can't even shift," Mckenzie continued. "A Luna with no wolf. No strength. No worth." She looked back at me. "You were never fit for this position. Everyone knows it. Lawson knows it. And now it's time for you to accept reality."

She gestured to the Omega servants standing near the hall's edge. Two of them—young she-wolves I'd helped train when they first joined the pack—stepped forward hesitantly.

"Take the pendant," Mckenzie ordered.

They looked at each other. Then at me. I could see the apology in their eyes even before they moved.

I didn't fight when they reached for my neck. Didn't resist when their fingers found the silver chain. The Luna pendant—the only object in Ironmaw I'd ever chosen to accept, the one Lawson gave me at our Mate Ceremony—was ripped away.

The chain broke. The pendant fell.

One of the Omegas caught it. Handed it to Mckenzie.

Mckenzie held it up for the pack to see. The silver wolf engraved on its surface caught the torchlight. Then she closed her fist around it.

"Bring the iron," she said.

A Delta warrior near the brazier at the hall's edge looked at Lawson. Waiting for confirmation.

Lawson nodded.

The warrior pulled a silver iron from the brazier's edge and thrust it into the flames. The metal began to glow. Red, then orange, then white-hot.

Mckenzie turned back to me. Her smile returned.

"False Luna," she said slowly, like she was tasting the words. "That's what we'll brand into your shoulder. So every wolf who sees you will know exactly what you are."

My wolf slammed against the wolfsbane cage again. Harder this time. The tremor in my hands spread up my arms.

I pressed my palms harder against the stone. Held the suppression. Held.

"And then," Mckenzie continued, "we'll drag you to the pack border and throw you out. You'll be rogue. Packless. Exactly what you deserve."

She looked at Lawson. "Don't you think, Alpha?"

Lawson's arms were still folded. He was watching me with the same flat expression he'd worn when he spoke the rejection vow. Like I was a problem he'd already solved.

"Do it," he said.

Dara Finch stepped forward from the crowd of ranked wolves. The Gamma she-wolf who'd spent three years making sure every wolf in Ironmaw knew I was unfit. Who'd organized the quiet contempt behind Lawson's back. Who'd smiled every time someone dismissed me.

"The pack deserves better," Dara announced. Her voice was loud. Confident. "We've always deserved a real Luna. A Luna with a real wolf."

Several Delta warriors murmured in agreement. The sound rippled through the hall.

The social machinery of the pack was closing around me. Smooth. Practiced. Like it had been waiting for exactly this permission.

The iron in the brazier glowed brighter.

Mckenzie's smile widened.

And my wolf—my wolf who I'd kept silent for three years, who I'd poisoned and suppressed and buried so deep I thought she'd never wake—

She screamed.