After My Mate Betrayed Me with the Omega

The knock on my study door came precisely at 9 AM. I'd been awake since dawn, my mind racing with possibilities, each more damning than the last.

"Enter," I commanded, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

Dorian stepped in, his expression grim. He carried a tablet and a manila folder, his movements efficient as always.

"Luna Morgan," he said with a slight bow. "I have the information you requested."

I gestured to the chair across from my desk. "Tell me."

Dorian placed the folder between us and opened it. "My scouts confirm that Alpha Clyde's vehicle never crossed into Blood River territory."

I'd expected this, but hearing it confirmed still sent a wave of cold fury through me. "Where did he go?"

"The Luna's Respite," Dorian said, his distaste evident in the slight curl of his lip. "A hotel in neutral territory known for... discretion."

The Luna's Respite. I knew of it—a place where pack politics were left at the door, where secrets stayed buried beneath silk sheets and champagne toasts.

"Kayla Woods was with him," I said. It wasn't a question.

Dorian nodded. "Security footage shows them arriving together. They stayed for three days."

Three days of betrayal. Three days of lies.

"I need those security logs," I said, touching my father's signet ring. "Every moment they were there."

"Already in motion," Dorian replied. "I've contacted a former packmate who works their security. He'll send us everything."

I nodded, dismissing him with a gesture. "Keep me updated."

After he left, I moved to my computer and entered my password—a sequence of numbers and symbols that would be meaningless to anyone else. The pack's encrypted treasury logs appeared on screen.

I'd designed this system myself, a labyrinth of digital protection that would take even the most skilled hacker months to penetrate. Clyde had always praised my "pretty little hobby" of security architecture, never understanding that it was far more than that.

Now, I was grateful for his underestimation.

I scrolled through the transactions, my eyes catching on a pattern that had been hidden in plain sight. Small transfers—five thousand here, ten thousand there—spread out over six months. Each one just below the threshold that would trigger automatic alerts.

"Careful," I whispered to myself. "So careful."

But not careful enough.

I added up the totals in my head, then cross-referenced them with a property management app on my phone. The numbers matched perfectly—the cost of a rogue-safe sanctuary villa being constructed on the edge of our territory.

A love nest. Funded by my pack's money.

I switched screens and pulled up the shell company information. "K.W. Consulting." Kayla Woods. How brazen. How stupid.

The villa was nearly complete—a modern fortress with silver-laced foundations and moonstone windows. All the materials were top-grade, designed to keep out even the most determined rogue wolf.

Or perhaps, designed to keep someone in.

I stood and moved to the window, needing to clear my head. The morning sun cast long shadows across the pack grounds as members went about their daily duties. Everything looked normal. Calm.

A lie.

Movement caught my eye—a figure walking through the side gate. Kayla. She looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped as if carrying an invisible weight.

"Visiting her sick aunt," I murmured, remembering the excuse she'd given for her absence.

I watched as she adjusted her collar, pulling it higher as if to hide something. But the sunlight caught it anyway—a glint of blue-white stone against her throat.

My breath caught.

The Moonstone amulet—my mother's gift on my sixteenth birthday. An heirloom passed down through generations of Lycan females. It had disappeared from my bedroom vault a week ago.

I'd torn the room apart looking for it, convinced one of our younger pack members had stolen it as a prank.

Now it hung around Kayla's neck like a trophy.

Something snapped inside me—not a bone or tendon, but something deeper. The last thread of hope that this might all be some terrible mistake.

It wasn't just infidelity. It wasn't just embezzlement.

It was usurpation.

Kayla wasn't just sleeping with my mate—she was trying to become me.

I gripped the windowsill until my knuckles turned white, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

Royal blood doesn't permit weakness.

And I was my father's daughter.

I reached for my phone and texted Dorian: "Find out who authorized the construction of the villa. And get me everything we have on Kayla Woods. Everything."

As I waited for his reply, I watched Kayla disappear into the pack house, my mother's amulet glinting in the sun like a beacon of betrayal.