After My Mate Crowned His Mistress Luna, I Fought Back

The library of the Silver Claw estate smelled of dust and old deceit. I found Elder Silas sitting by the fire, a leather-bound ledger open on his lap. He didn't look up when I entered, his arrogance radiating off him like heat from the hearth.

"You froze my accounts," I said, my voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "And you planted that hex bag."

Silas turned a page, his movements slow and deliberate. "Precautionary measures, Cecilia. The pack must be protected from... external threats."

"I am not an external threat. I am the Luna who saved this pack from starvation," I countered, stepping closer. The firelight cast long, dancing shadows across his wrinkled face. "But that never mattered to you, did it? You didn't want a partner for your grandson. You wanted a broodmare."

Silas finally looked at me, a cruel smile stretching his thin lips. He closed the book with a heavy thud. "You give yourself too much credit, child. We needed the Knight bloodline to strengthen our warriors. We needed your father's money to rebuild our walls. But you? You were always temporary."

He stood up, leaning heavily on his cane, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Once you produced an heir, an Alpha with Knight blood but a Spencer name, you would have been... retired. Violette was always the intended mother of this pack. You were just the vessel."

The admission hung in the air, gross and suffocating. I felt a wave of nausea, not from fear, but from the sheer violation of his scheme. "I am leaving, Silas. And I am taking every cent and every warrior I brought with me."

"Try it," he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Step one foot outside this territory without permission, and I will declare war on the Knight Moon Pack. I will paint you as a witch and a traitor to the Council. You will be hunted, Cecilia. Is your dignity worth a war?"

I stared at him, my wolf pacing restlessly in my mind. "We shall see."

I left him there, amidst his books and his schemes, but the evening held one more torture. August had requested—no, demanded—my presence at dinner. It was our one-year mating anniversary, a date he had apparently remembered only because the pack elders expected a show of unity.

The dining hall was dimly lit, a pathetic attempt at romance. August sat at the head of the table, looking weary. He poured wine into two glasses as I took my seat, the silence between us heavy with unsaid words.

"Cecilia," he began, swirling his glass. "We need to get past this. The pack needs stability. If you just apologize to Violette and accept the new arrangement..."

"Apologize?" I choked out a laugh. "For what? For existing?"

Before he could answer, the double doors swung open. Violette sashayed in, wearing a dress that was cut scandalously low. But it wasn't her skin that caught my eye. It was the diamond pendant resting against her throat.

It was a teardrop diamond, encased in white gold. My mother’s design. August had given it to me six months ago, swearing it was a symbol of his growing devotion.

"Oh, don't mind me," Violette chirped, pulling up a chair right next to August, invading the intimate space. "I just couldn't bear to eat alone tonight. The kitchen staff prepared my favorite."

I pointed a trembling finger at her neck. "That is mine."

Violette touched the diamond, feigning surprise. "This old thing? August said it was just gathering dust in your jewelry box. He thought it suited my complexion better. Doesn't it, darling?"

She looked at August. I looked at August.

He didn't flinch. He didn't demand she take it off. He took a sip of his wine and looked away. "It's just a necklace, Cecilia. Don't be petty. It looks good on her."

The final thread of my restraint snapped. It wasn't loud. It was a quiet, internal severing. The hope I had held onto—that my mate was simply confused or misguided—died instantly.

Slowly, deliberately, I reached for my left hand. I gripped the platinum band of my wedding ring. It felt cold against my skin, a shackle I had worn with pride.

I slid it off.

The metal clinked sharply as I dropped it onto the polished wood of the table. It spun for a second before settling between us.

"Petty," I repeated, my voice devoid of emotion. "Enjoy the necklace, August. It cost you your mate."

August glanced at the ring, then back at his food, refusing to acknowledge the gravity of what I had just done. "Stop with the dramatics, Cecilia. Eat your dinner."

I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I've lost my appetite."

I walked out of the dining hall, leaving the ring and the man behind. I didn't go to my room. I went to the guest bathroom on the first floor, locking the door and turning on the faucet to drown out any sound. I sat on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes, reaching deep into my mind, past the pain, past the betrayal, to the secure, blood-bound channel that connected me to my source.

*Father.*

The connection sparked instantly, strong and unwavering. *Cecilia? Something is wrong. I can feel your distress.*

*It's over,* I projected, sending him the images in rapid succession—the hex bag, Silas’s threat, the stolen necklace, the ring on the table. *They are freezing my dowry. They have accused me of dark magic to void the contract. Silas plans to keep me as breeding stock.*

A roar echoed through the mental link, so powerful it made my head throb. It was the sound of an Alpha ready for war.

*Prepare the extraction team,* I ordered, my own Alpha blood singing in my veins. *And tell the warriors on the border to ready their weapons. I am coming home, and if they try to stop me, we burn the Silver Claw to the ground.*

*They will pay,* my father promised, his voice dark with lethal intent. *Hold the line, my daughter. Help is coming.*

I severed the link and opened my eyes. In the mirror, my reflection stared back. The heartbroken girl was gone. In her place stood a woman ready to watch the world burn.