After My Alpha Replaced Me with His Pregnant Mistress

The dawn was gray and unforgiving, much like the ache that settled deep in my marrow. I knelt on the damp earth of the sacred grove behind the Black Moon Pack house, my knees pressed into the cold soil. I am Celine Stone, the last daughter of a bloodline that has stitched the wounds of werewolves for centuries, yet the only life I couldn't seem to save was my own.

I closed my eyes, gripping the moonstone pendant that rested against my collarbone. It was warm, pulsing with the last of my mother’s magic. I reached out with my senses, finding the tether that bound me to Drake. His wolf was a flickering shadow, a dying ember that I had to fan into a flame every single month.

"Live," I whispered, the word scraping my throat.

Silver light bled from my fingertips, sinking into the ground and traveling through the unseen bond. The pain was immediate—a sharp, tearing sensation as my vitality was siphoned away to patch the cracks in his aura. I gasped, sweat beading on my forehead despite the morning chill. For five years, I had done this. For five years, I had been the silent battery keeping the Alpha of the Black Moon Pack from crumbling into dust.

When the ritual ended, I slumped forward, trembling. My vision blurred. I needed a hand to help me up. I needed my mate.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel path. I looked up, hope fluttering in my chest like a trapped bird.

Drake stood there. He looked magnificent, his dark hair tousled, his shoulders broad and powerful—strength that I had just poured into him. But his eyes, once warm silver, were cold and hard as flint.

"Drake," I breathed, reaching a shaking hand toward him. "The ritual… it’s done."

He didn't take my hand. He didn't even break stride. He brushed past me, the hem of his coat whipping against my cheek. "I have a council meeting, Celine. Don't be late for the gathering tonight."

He left me kneeling in the dirt, drained and empty.

***

The monthly pack gathering was usually a time of unity, but tonight, the air in the dining hall was thick with tension. I wore a high-collared dress to hide the bruising on my neck where the energy transfer had left its mark. As the Luna, my place was at the head table, at Drake’s right hand.

But as I approached, the chatter in the hall died instantly.

Drake entered, but he wasn't alone. Clinging to his arm was Sabrina Willis. Her red hair was a cascade of fire, her green eyes gleaming with a triumph I didn't yet understand. She wore a dress that left little to the imagination, and the scent radiating off her was overpowering—a cloying, floral perfume that made my healer’s instincts recoil. It smelled synthetic, masking something rotten underneath.

Drake walked her straight to the head table. Straight to my chair.

"Drake?" I stepped forward, my voice trembling slightly. "That is the Luna’s seat."

Sabrina looked at me, then up at Drake, her lower lip trembling in a practiced pout. "Oh, Alpha, I didn't mean to intrude. I just… I feel so safe near you."

Drake turned to me. The look on his face wasn't just indifferent anymore; it was hostile.

"Sit elsewhere, Celine," he commanded.

The pack gasped. To displace a mate was a grave insult. To displace a Luna was political suicide.

"Drake, please," I whispered, conscious of the hundred pairs of eyes watching us. "Don't do this."

His eyes flashed. The air in the room grew heavy, crushing the breath from my lungs. He used the Alpha tone—a vibration that forced submission from every wolf in the room.

"I said, sit elsewhere!" his voice boomed, hitting me like a physical blow.

My knees buckled. My wolf whimpered in submission, forced to obey the command of her Alpha despite the agony of her mate's betrayal. Humiliated, I turned and found a seat at the far end of the table, near the Omegas. I watched as Sabrina slid into my chair, her hand resting possessively on Drake’s arm, whispering honeyed poison into his ear.

***

The walk to our bedroom felt like a funeral procession. When Drake finally came in, smelling of her perfume, I couldn't stay silent.

"How could you?" I asked, my voice cracking. "I am your wife. I am your mate. You humiliated me in front of the entire pack."

Drake unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. He looked at me with a sneer I didn't recognize. "You humiliate yourself, Celine. You’re weak. You’re always tired, always pale. Look at you."

"I am tired because I give everything to you!" I cried, stepping toward him. "My blood, my energy—"

"Enough!" He grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. "I don't want to hear about your pathetic rituals. You think you save me? Sabrina… she makes me feel alive. She makes me feel like a true Alpha. You just make me feel like a patient."

He shoved me back. I stumbled, catching myself on the dresser. The cruelty in his eyes shattered something deep inside me, something that had survived five years of pain but couldn't survive this.

"She is poisoning your mind, Drake," I whispered, tears finally spilling over.

"Get out," he hissed. "Sleep in the guest room. I can't stand the sight of you tonight."

I fled the room, my heart in tatters. As I stumbled into the hallway, I nearly collided with a solid, warm chest.

Clark Andrews stood there, his body rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The Beta’s kind brown eyes were dark with a fury I had never seen before. He had heard everything. He looked at the closed door of the Alpha’s bedroom, then down at me, his expression softening into a heartbreak that mirrored my own.

"Luna," he whispered, his voice thick with suppressed rage. "He doesn't deserve you."