After My Mate Scent-Marked His Mistress, I Rejected Him

The Council had confined me to the pack grounds, but they hadn’t stripped me of my instincts. While the rest of the pack whispered about my disgrace, I slipped out the back door of the cabin, moving silently toward the supply warehouse. My wolf was pacing in the back of my mind, agitated and snarling. She knew we were innocent, and she wanted blood.

The warehouse perimeter was cordoned off with yellow tape, but the Enforcers were lazy. They assumed the thief was already caught. I crouched in the brush, inhaling deeply, letting the world filter through my nose. Pine. Damp earth. The lingering metallic tang of the rusty fence. And something else.

It was faint, nearly washed away by the recent storm, but to a tracker of my caliber, it was as loud as a scream. It was a trail leading away from the back loading dock, heading toward the dense forest border. It wasn’t the musk of a rogue. It was sweet. Cloyingly sweet.

I crept closer, pressing my nose near the mud. The scent hit me, triggering a memory so sharp it made me dizzy. *Midnight Orchid*.

My stomach churned. That wasn’t a natural scent. It was a designer perfume, imported and obscenely expensive. I knew exactly what it smelled like because I had bought a bottle of it two weeks ago. Oliver had begged me for the money, claiming he wanted to get a nice birthday gift for his mother. I had worked three extra patrols to afford that tiny glass bottle.

But Oliver’s mother was allergic to perfume. She only ever smelled of bleach and peppermint.

Harlow, however, always smelled like a walking flower shop.

The realization settled in my gut like a stone. I had paid for the scent that was now masking the trail of the real thief. I stood up, my hands trembling not from cold, but from a rage that was slowly boiling over. They hadn’t just framed me; they had used my own hard-earned money to do it.

I returned to the cabin just as the sun began to dip. I expected silence, perhaps a chance to plan my defense. Instead, I walked into chaos. The kitchen was a mess of grocery bags, and Oliver was standing there, holding a bottle of red wine.

“Finally,” he huffed, not even looking at me. “I need you to start cooking. A roast, maybe some of those garlic potatoes you make. And clean up the living room, it’s a sty.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Cooking? Oliver, I’m under house arrest. I’ve lost my rank. I’m facing exile.”

“Don’t be such a downer, Val,” he said, popping the cork. “We have to celebrate. Alpha Garrett just named the new Temporary Inventory Manager.”

A cold dread washed over me. “Who?”

Oliver grinned, a look of genuine pride on his face that he had never directed at me. “Harlow. Can you believe it? She stepped up when the pack needed her most. She’s coming over for dinner to celebrate.”

The room spun. “You want me to cook a celebratory dinner for the woman who stole my job? The woman who lied to the Alpha and destroyed my reputation?”

Oliver’s smile vanished, replaced by that familiar, irritated scowl. “She didn’t steal anything. She earned it. You’re just jealous because she’s advancing and you’re… well, you’re in a bad spot. Stop being so toxic, Valentina. It’s ugly.”

“I’m not cooking for her,” I said, my voice shaking.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. For a second, I thought he would use the Alpha tone again, and my wolf whined in anticipation of the pain. But he just sighed, shaking his head as if I were a petulant child.

“Fine. Be useless. But we need champagne. Real champagne, not this cheap wine.” He held out his hand. “Give me your credit card.”

“What? No! Oliver, I have legal fees to pay. I might need that money to survive if they kick me out!”

“And whose fault is that?” he snapped, snatching my purse from the counter before I could stop him. He dug out my black card—the one linked to my savings account. “You’re my mate. Your money is pack money. It’s my money. I’m going to the store. Have the table set by the time I get back, or so help me, Val, I will have the Alpha confine you to the basement.”

He stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him. I stood there, the silence ringing in my ears. He took my card. He was going to buy champagne for her with my money. Just like the perfume.

I didn’t set the table. I waited three minutes, then I grabbed my keys and followed him.

He didn’t go to the liquor store. I watched from a safe distance as his sedan turned off the main road, heading up the winding dirt path toward the ridge. My heart hammered against my ribs. There was only one thing up there.

The cabin. *My* cabin.

It was a secluded A-frame tucked into the pines, bought with the inheritance my grandmother left me. It was supposed to be a surprise for our Mating Ceremony next month. It was titled in my name, paid for by my bloodline. I had never even taken Oliver there yet.

So why did he know where it was?

I parked my car a half-mile down the road and shifted, letting my wolf carry me silently through the trees. When the cabin came into view, I saw Oliver’s car parked out front. There were no lights on, but smoke curled from the chimney.

I shifted back to human form behind a large oak, pulling on the spare clothes I kept in my go-bag. I walked to the front door, my hand shaking as I slid my key into the lock. It didn’t turn.

I jiggled it. Nothing. The mechanism was stiff, new.

He had changed the locks. On my house.

A low growl rumbled in my chest, vibration I couldn't control. I crept around to the back of the house. The kitchen window—I knew the latch was loose. I had meant to fix it weeks ago. Thank the Goddess for procrastination.

I wedged my fingers under the frame and pushed. With a soft groan of protest, the window slid up. I hoisted myself onto the sill and dropped silently into the dark kitchen. The air inside was warm, suffocatingly so. And it reeked.

It didn't smell like fresh lumber and new paint anymore. It smelled of that sickly sweet *Midnight Orchid*, mixed with the musk of a male wolf. My male wolf.