After My Alpha Replaced Me with His Pregnant Mistress

The cool night air of the medicinal garden was the only thing keeping me from shattering completely. I collapsed onto the stone bench beneath the weeping willow, my breath hitching in ragged gasps. The humiliation of the dinner still burned on my skin, hotter than the physical wound I had sustained.

I looked down at my hand. A bright red welt stretched across my palm and fingers, blistering where I had grabbed the hot silver tureen to stop it from falling when Drake’s command forced my knees to buckle. I hadn’t dropped the wine, but the soup tureen had seared my flesh. I hadn’t dared to cry out then. A Luna does not show weakness, even when she is being treated like a servant.

"Let me see it."

The voice was low and familiar. I didn't jump; my wolf knew his scent—earth, pine, and safety. Clark Andrews stepped out of the shadows, his face etched with a mixture of sorrow and suppressed rage.

"I'm fine, Clark," I whispered, cradling my hand against my chest. "Go back inside. If Drake sees you here..."

"He is too busy drinking to his 'heir' to notice his Beta is missing," Clark said bitterly. He knelt before me, disregarding the dirt staining his dress slacks. Gently, he took my wrist. His touch was cool, a stark contrast to the angry heat of the burn. "This needs aloe and comfrey. Stay still."

He pulled a small jar from his pocket—one of my own salves I had given the pack warriors. With infinite care, he applied the balm to my blistered skin. The relief was instant, but the ache in my chest only deepened. Here was the man who should have been just a friend, treating me with the reverence my mate had forgotten.

"You cannot keep doing this, Celine," Clark murmured, his eyes locked on his work. "The ritual is tonight. You are already exhausted. Your aura is flickering."

"I have to," I said, my voice hollow. "If I don't, his wolf dies. And if his wolf dies, the pack falls."

Clark looked up, his brown eyes searching mine. "The pack is already falling, Luna. A pack led by a madman has no future. You need to protect yourself. You need to leave."

I instinctively placed my other hand over my stomach, where the tiny, secret life fluttered. "I can't leave. Not yet."

Clark’s gaze dropped to my hand on my belly. He paused, a flicker of realization passing through his eyes, but he said nothing. He simply squeezed my uninjured hand, a silent vow of protection. For a moment, in the quiet of the garden my mother had planted, I felt a peace I hadn't known in years.

But peace in the Black Moon Pack was a fragile illusion.

A soft click from the second-floor balcony shattered the moment. I looked up, my heart seizing. Sabrina stood there, framed by the light of the Alpha’s bedroom. She wasn't looking at the moon; she was looking at us. A slow, venomous smile spread across her lips. She didn't say a word, but the way she turned and slinked back into the room made my blood run cold.

"She saw us," I whispered, pulling my hand from Clark's grip. "Go. Please, Clark."

He hesitated, jaw clenched, but the Beta instinct to obey his Luna won out. He vanished into the trees, leaving me alone with the dread coiling in my gut.

Inside the bedroom, the atmosphere had shifted. I could feel it even from the garden—a spike in the air pressure, the static charge of an agitated Alpha. Sabrina was weaving her web.

*"Look at them, Drake,"* I imagined her purring, her voice dripping with false concern. *"Touching hands in the dark. Your Beta and your barren mate. Perhaps that is why she is so cold to you..."*

I wiped my face, steeling myself. The full moon was rising. It was time for the ritual.

I entered the house through the side door, moving silently toward the Alpha’s study where we usually prepared before heading to the grove. The door was ajar.

Drake was pacing, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His aura was erratic, flaring out in jagged waves that made the air taste metallic. Sabrina sat on the edge of his desk, holding a crystal goblet filled with a dark, viscous liquid.

"Drink this, my love," she cooed, extending the glass. "It will help you focus. It will give you the strength she tries to steal from you."

The scent hit me before I even crossed the threshold. It was sharp, acrid—like burnt sugar and rotting meat. Wolfsbane. But not just the herb; this was a concentrated elixir, the kind brewed in the dark basements of rogue territories. The kind Victor Kane dealt in.

"Drake, no!" I gasped, stepping into the room. "Do not drink that!"

Drake spun around. His eyes were wild, the pupils blown wide. The silver of his irises was muddy, swimming with red veins.

"You," he snarled. The sound was more beast than man. "You dare tell me what to do? After what you were doing in the garden?"

"I was tending to a wound you caused!" I cried, pointing at the glass. "That is poison, Drake! Can’t you smell it? It’s wolfsbane!"

Sabrina laughed, a tinkling, innocent sound. "Oh, Celine. Always so dramatic. It’s just a tonic for vitality. Something to help him since his 'healer' mate is so useless."

She pressed the glass into Drake’s hand. He looked at the dark liquid, then at me. The trust that had once existed between us was gone, eroded by months of manipulation and his own desperation for strength.

"I don't need your permission, Celine," Drake spat. "And I don't need your pity."

He raised the glass and downed the elixir in one swallow.

"No!" I screamed, lunging forward, but it was too late.

A roar ripped from his throat—a sound of raw power and agony. His muscles bulged, tearing the seams of his shirt. The elixir was forcing a surge of artificial energy into his dying wolf, like pouring gasoline onto a fading spark. It wouldn't heal him; it would burn him out from the inside.

He turned to me, and for the first time, I didn't see my husband. I saw a stranger fueled by chemical rage and a jealousy whispered into his ear.

"You think you can betray me with my own Beta?" he growled, his voice vibrating with the Alpha tone, amplified and distorted by the drug. He took a step toward me, the floorboards groaning under the weight of his aura.

I backed away, clutching my stomach, terror icy in my veins. The ritual was meant to save him, but tonight, the man standing before me didn't want to be saved. He wanted to destroy.