After My Mate Betrayed Me with My Childhood Enemy

The guest quarters were cold, stripped of the warmth that usually permeated the pack house. For three days, I had been locked in this glorified cell, my meals brought by a trembling Omega who wouldn't meet my eyes. But it wasn't the isolation that terrified me. It was the weakness.

My limbs felt heavy, like I was wading through mud. My wolf, usually a fierce presence in my mind, was silent, curled into a tight ball of distress. I sat on the edge of the stiff mattress, staring at the cup of jasmine tea the Omega had left an hour ago. It was my favorite blend—a small kindness, or so I had thought.

I lifted the cup, the steam carrying that familiar floral scent. But beneath the jasmine, there was something else. A sharp, metallic tang that made my nose wrinkle. It was faint, almost imperceptible to a human, but to a wolf trained to hunt in the northern wastes, it was a warning bell.

*Wolfsbane.*

My hand shook, splashing hot liquid onto my wrist. Wolfsbane was poison to our kind. In large doses, it killed. In small, controlled doses... it weakened the wolf spirit. It caused forced submission. And in pregnant she-wolves, it detached the placenta.

They weren't just trying to silence me. They were trying to kill my baby.

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through my veins, momentarily burning away the lethargy. I poured the tea into a small glass vial I kept in my travel bag—a habit from my patrol days—and hid it in my pocket. I needed confirmation.

When the Omega returned for the tray, I feigned sleep, slipping out the door the moment the lock clicked shut but didn't fully engage. I knew the security codes; I wrote half of them.

I didn't go to Dr. Thorne. He was in my father's pocket. Instead, I crept through the shadows to the edge of the territory, to a small shack where Old Martha, the pack's retired herbalist, lived. She was blind, but her nose was sharper than any Alpha's.

"Martha," I whispered, stepping into the herb-scented gloom.

She didn't startle. "June. You smell like fear and iron."

I placed the vial in her gnarled hand. "Tell me what this is."

Martha uncorked it, taking a shallow sniff. She recoiled instantly, her face twisting in horror. "Jasmine. Honey. And *Aconitum lycoctonum*. Wolfsbane, child. Enough to force a miscarriage by sunrise if you drank the whole cup."

The world tilted. It wasn't just neglect. It wasn't just an affair. It was murder.

"Thank you, Martha," I choked out, taking the vial back. "Stay inside tonight."

I didn't sneak back to my room. I walked straight to the main house. It was dusk, and the pack was gathering for the evening meal. Lucas would be there. My father would be there. And Millie.

I burst through the double doors of the dining hall. The chatter died instantly. Lucas sat at the head of the table, Millie to his right in the seat that should have been mine. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting possessively on his forearm.

"June?" Lucas stood up, his expression darkening. "You are confined to your quarters."

"I'm sure you'd prefer that," I said, my voice ringing clear and cold across the silent hall. I marched forward, the vial clutched in my hand like a grenade. "It makes it easier to poison me."

Gasps rippled through the room. Millie's eyes went wide, her scent spiking with sudden, acrid panic.

"What are you talking about?" Lucas growled, stepping around the table. "You're hysterical again."

"Am I?" I uncorked the vial and splashed the tea onto the polished floor at his feet. The liquid hissed as it hit the wood, the Wolfsbane reacting with the treated timber. The scent of burnt sugar and poison filled the air. "Old Martha confirmed it. Wolfsbane. In my tea. In the cup *she* ordered for me."

I pointed a shaking finger at Millie. She shrank back, clutching her pearls. "Lucas! She's crazy! I would never!"

Lucas looked at the sizzling puddle, then at me. For a second, I saw hesitation. Then he looked at Millie—at her tear-filled eyes, her trembling lower lip—and his face hardened into stone.

"Millie is gentle," Lucas said, his voice flat. "She doesn't have a violent bone in her body. Unlike you, June."

My heart shattered. "Lucas... it's poison. It will kill your son."

"Maybe it's for the best," he said softly, so only I could hear. "You are too hard, June. You are a warrior, a killer. You aren't fit to be a mother. Millie... she is soft. She is what a Luna should be."

He raised his voice, addressing the pack. "June is unwell. She is hallucinating. Until she recovers, Millie Perkins will act as Luna for the upcoming Summit."

It wasn't a formal rejection, but it was a death sentence. He had chosen his mistress over his mate and his unborn child. He would let them poison me slowly, claiming I was sick, until I was gone.

I stared at him, memorizing the face of the man who had just signed my execution order. "You will regret this," I whispered. "When the moon rises on your empty life, you will regret this."

I turned and walked out. No one stopped me. They thought I was broken. They were wrong.

***

Midnight. The witching hour. I was packing a go-bag in the dark when the door handle turned. I grabbed a letter opener, my only weapon, and spun around.

Beta Thomas stood there, his face pale in the moonlight. He held a set of car keys.

"Thomas?" I lowered the blade.

"I can't do this, June," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I saw the tea. I smelled it too. He's... he's lost his mind."

He tossed me the keys. "Take the black SUV around back. I disabled the perimeter alarms on the south gate. You have ten minutes before the system reboots."

"Come with me," I urged, grabbing his arm. "He'll know it was you."

"Someone has to delay them," Thomas said grimly. "Go. Save the pup."

I didn't waste time with goodbyes. I ran. My body was heavy, the residual poison still dragging at my limbs, but fear gave me wings. I threw my bag into the passenger seat and tore out of the garage, keeping the headlights off until I hit the tree line.

As I sped toward the southern border, a sharp pain cramped my lower abdomen. Not the dull ache of the poison, but a tightening, squeezing pressure.

*Contractions.*

"No, no, no," I gasped, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. "Not yet. It's too soon. Stay in there, little one. Please."

I floored the accelerator, the engine roaring as I crossed the boundary line. Behind me, the alarms of the Hunter Moon Pack began to wail, piercing the night. They were coming. But I was already gone, driving into the darkness toward the only sanctuary left—the neutral lands.