After My Mate Banished Me for His Mistress

A week had passed since I'd been released from the dungeons. The wolfsbane burns had healed into angry red scars across my chest and neck, a constant reminder of Nova's attack and Waylen's betrayal. Tonight was the monthly Pack Gathering, where all members would convene for a communal meal. I stood before the mirror, carefully applying concealer to the scars on my neck.

"You can do this," I whispered to my reflection. "Just a few more hours."

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach. The pregnancy was still in its early stages, but I could already feel a protective fierceness growing within me. The suppressants remained untouched in their pouch—I refused to hide my child's existence.

The great hall buzzed with conversation when I entered. Pack members nodded respectfully, though their eyes lingered curiously on my neck where the concealer didn't quite hide everything. I took my seat at the high table, three places away from Waylen—a deliberate arrangement that spoke volumes about our fractured bond.

Nova sat at Waylen's right hand, where I should have been. She wore a flowing white dress that emphasized her fragile beauty, her eyes downcast in practiced grief. When she caught me watching, her lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.

"Luna Phoebe," she said loudly enough for nearby tables to hear. "You look... different tonight."

Before I could respond, she inhaled dramatically, her eyes widening. "What is that scent? It's so... happy."

All eyes turned to me. I hadn't taken the suppressants, but the pregnancy scent wasn't strong enough to detect unless you were specifically looking for it.

"I don't know what you mean," I said carefully.

Nova's face contorted, transforming from fragile beauty to something feral. "It's mocking me!" she shrieked, pointing at me with a trembling finger. "She's mocking my grief! Can't you smell it?"

Waylen was at her side instantly, his arm around her shoulders. "Phoebe," he growled, his eyes flashing gold with Alpha power. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," I protested, rising to my feet. "I haven't—"

"ENOUGH!" Waylen's voice thundered through the hall, silencing everyone. "You will leave. Now."

The public humiliation burned worse than the wolfsbane ever could. I stood frozen, aware of every eye upon me.

"I said LEAVE!" Waylen roared, his Alpha aura crushing down on me.

I turned and walked toward the exit, my back straight despite the shame burning through me. As I reached the doorway, I caught a glimpse of a hooded figure seated in the shadows of the far corner. For just a moment, our eyes met—intense, knowing eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

---

The pack gardens were silent under the moonlight. I'd been wandering for hours, unable to face returning to our quarters. The cool night air helped clear my head, though it did nothing for the hollow ache in my chest.

"Luna Phoebe."

I whirled around, my heart pounding. The hooded figure from the hall stood before me, his features now visible in the moonlight. He was breathtakingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light.

"Who are you?" I demanded, backing away slightly.

"Luca Ryan," he replied, his voice deep and steady. "Lycan Prince of the Northern Territories."

A Lycan prince? Here? I should have been alarmed, but something about him felt... safe.

"You're in danger," he said bluntly. "I've been monitoring the pack's instability for weeks."

"How did you get in?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I have my ways." His eyes softened. "I know about the abuse. About the pregnancy."

My hand flew protectively to my stomach. "How could you possibly—"

"Lycan senses," he explained. "We detect what others miss." He stepped closer, his gaze intense. "I can get you out of here, Phoebe. To the Lycan Kingdom. You'd be safe there."

I shook my head, though part of me yearned for escape. "I can't just leave. The mate bond—"

"Is being violated with every breath you take," he finished gently.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, glowing stone on a leather cord. "This is moonstone. Crush it if you ever need immediate saving."

I hesitated before taking it, the weight of the stone heavy in my palm.

---

Three days later, Nova cornered me in the pack's financial office. Her eyes narrowed as she watched me organizing documents.

"Waylen is distracted," she said, her voice honey-sweet with venom. "I think you're up to something."

I said nothing, continuing my work.

"He needs to be reminded of your... loyalty." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I've suggested he ask for your family's heirloom jewelry. For the pack's benefit, of course."

My blood ran cold. The Ward family jewelry had been passed down for generations.

"Waylen agrees," she continued. "He'll be asking for it soon. I do hope you'll comply."

That afternoon, Waylen summoned me to his office. His expression was cold as he leaned against his desk.

"The pack is experiencing financial difficulties," he said without preamble. "We need assets to liquidate."

I knew exactly what had caused these "difficulties"—my frozen accounts.

"I need your family's jewelry," he continued. "The gold alone would fetch a good price."

I met his gaze steadily. "No."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. In eight years, I had never directly refused him.

"What did you say?"

"I said no," I repeated, my voice stronger than I expected. "Those jewels belong to my family. They're not for sale."

For the first time in years, I saw something like uncertainty flicker across Waylen's face. Then his expression hardened into fury.

"This isn't over," he growled as I turned to leave. "Not by a long shot."