After My Mate Crowned His Mistress Luna, I Fought Back

The invitation had been framed as a peace offering, but as I stepped into the sun-drenched conservatory, it felt more like walking into a trap. Violette had organized a "Luna’s Tea" for the high-ranking females of the Silver Claw Pack to celebrate her miraculous recovery. As the actual Luna of this pack, my absence would have been seen as an act of war. So, I wore my ceremonial dress—a heavy, embroidered silk that signaled my rank—and walked into the lion’s den.

Violette sat at the head of the table, draped in pastel chiffon, looking every bit the fragile, returned princess. The other women, wives of the Gamma and key elders, fawned over her, hanging on her every whispered word. When I approached, the conversation died instantly.

"Cecilia," Violette cooed, her smile not reaching her eyes. "I’m so glad you could make it. We were just discussing how much the pack has... changed in my absence."

"Change is necessary for survival," I replied evenly, taking the empty seat at the opposite end of the table. "I trust you are adjusting well?"

"Oh, perfectly. August has been so attentive." She picked up a silver bell and rang it delicately. "Tea, please."

Elena, a young Omega I had personally protected from a harsh Gamma last winter, hurried forward with a steaming porcelain pot. Her hands were trembling. She wouldn't meet my eyes. I frowned, sensing a spike of fear in her scent, but before I could ask what was wrong, Violette cleared her throat loudly.

At that signal, Elena stumbled.

It was clumsy and clearly forced. The heavy pot tipped, and a wave of scalding liquid cascaded directly onto my lap.

The heat was immediate, but it was the secondary sensation that made me gasp—a searing, chemical burn that felt like acid eating through my skin. The scent hit me a split second later. Beneath the aroma of Earl Grey was the unmistakable, acrid stench of wolfsbane.

I shot up from my chair, the silk of my dress hissing as it clung to my burning legs. "What is this?"

"Oh no!" Violette cried out, pressing a hand to her mouth in mock horror. "Elena, you clumsy girl! Look what you’ve done to our guest!"

Guest. She called me a guest in my own pack house.

"It burns," I hissed, gripping the edge of the table as my wolf snarled in agony. Ordinary hot water would have healed in seconds. This was blistering, turning my skin an angry, mottled red. "There is wolfsbane in this tea."

"Wolfsbane?" Violette laughed, a brittle, tinkling sound. "Don't be ridiculous, Cecilia. Why would we have poison at a tea party? You’re just overreacting to a little hot water."

I glared at Elena, who was cowering against the wall, sobbing. "Who told you to do this?"

"I—I didn't—" Elena stammered, her eyes darting to Violette.

"Stop scaring her!" Violette shrieked, jumping up to shield the Omega.

The doors burst open. Alpha August strode in, his Beta, James, trailing behind him. August’s eyes swept over the scene—the overturned pot, the sobbing Omega, and me, standing with fists clenched and a ruined dress.

"What is going on here?" August demanded, his voice booming.

"She was going to hurt Elena!" Violette ran to him, burying her face in his chest. "It was just an accident, August. Elena spilled some tea, and Cecilia went crazy. She started screaming about poison and looked like she was going to strike the poor girl."

August looked at me, his expression hardening. He didn't come to my side. He didn't ask if I was hurt. He wrapped his arm around Violette.

"Cecilia," he warned, his tone low and dangerous. "Stand down."

"She laced the tea with wolfsbane, August," I said, my voice shaking with the effort to suppress my pain. I lifted the hem of my ruined dress slightly to show the angry, blistering burns on my thigh. "Look at it. This isn't a normal burn. It's not healing."

August glanced at the injury briefly, then looked away, unimpressed. "It looks like a mild allergic reaction to the herbal blend. You have always been sensitive, Cecilia. To accuse a pack member of poisoning you is paranoia."

"Paranoia?" I choked out a laugh of disbelief. "Smell it, August! It’s right there!"

"I smell nothing but tea and your aggression," he snapped. He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. It slid across the wood, coming to a stop near my hand. "That should cover the dress. Stop making a scene in front of the elders' wives. It’s unbecoming of a Luna."

He turned to the cowering Omega. "Go, Elena. You are not in trouble. Accidents happen."

Violette smirked at me from over August’s shoulder—a quick, vicious twisting of her lips that vanished as soon as August looked down at her.

"Come, Violette," August said softly. "Let’s get you out of this negative energy."

They left me standing there, the money on the table like a slap in the face. The other women in the room stared at their teacups, refusing to meet my gaze. I was alone.

I limped back to my room, the burn throbbing with a dull, toxic ache. I had to treat it myself with a salve from my private kit, as I no longer trusted the pack hospital. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the isolation that followed.

Over the next three days, a silence fell over the pack house whenever I entered a room. Orders I gave to the kitchen staff were "forgotten." Warriors who used to bow to me now looked past me. It wasn't just disrespect; it was fear.

I found out why on the fourth morning. I intercepted a mind-link meant for a Delta, a careless slip in their mental shielding.

*...be careful around her. The Alpha says she’s unstable. Violette said she used to beat the Omegas in her father’s pack. That’s why she was so angry at the tea party; she wanted blood...*

The realization hit me colder than any winter wind. Violette was using August’s authority codes to broadcast lies through the pack link. She was painting me as a monster, an abuser of the weak. And because August had publicly dismissed my pain and protected the "victim" Elena, the pack believed it.

They were stripping away my humanity before they stripped away my title. I looked at the burn on my leg, now fading to a dull scar. They thought this would break me. They thought I would run home crying to my father.

I walked to the mirror and straightened my spine. If they wanted a monster, I wouldn't give them one. I would give them a Queen they would regret crossing.