Giving Up My Mate for My Stepsister

“I am so proud to announce that, a month from my twentieth birthday, I will marry Quincy Malone, Beta Jean Malone’s daughter,” Alpha Branden Harrison declared at his grand birthday banquet, his voice echoing across the hall.

The crowd froze, the air heavy with disbelief. I stood among them, utterly stunned. He was my mate.

For four years, I had been bound to him by the sacred bond, yet he announced his union with another.

Whispers spread like wildfire, questions hanging in the air. None louder than the one in my heart, “Why?”

Quincy Malone, the so-called daughter of Beta Jean, was the product of my father’s betrayal.

Born to a rogue, Johanna Burke, she was the reason my mother divorced my father and fled back to her birth pack. A stain on my family’s history. And then, she was to marry my mate?

When the banquet ended and the last guest departed, I confronted Branden at the back of the hall, far from curious eyes. My emotions boiled over.

“What is the meaning of this?” I shouted, my voice cracking with anguish.

Branden stood unfazed, his tone maddeningly calm. “I love her more than I love you.”

His words cut deeper than any blade.

“Oh,” I whispered, a bitter laugh escaping me. Why had I even asked? The answer was as clear as the betrayal etched in his eyes.

I should have known better. My father’s infidelity had taught me the weakness of the mate bond.

If my mother could sever ties with her mate, then so could I. No matter how dazzling the bond seemed, if it did not fit, it was not worth holding on to.

With trembling determination, I said, “Then I, Eleonor Malone, reject….”

Before I could finish, Branden’s hand clamped over my mouth. His strength pinned me to the wall, his emerald eyes blazing with fury.

“Don’t you dare defy me, Eleonor!” he hissed, his voice dripping with rage. “Who gave you the right to decide your fate? To rebel against me?”

The air thickened, suffocating under his dominance. His heat overtook him, his anger igniting something darker. My struggles were futile as his strength overwhelmed me, leaving me helpless.

I fell to the ground, tears streaming down my face, my body trembling with pain and humiliation.

As I laid there, broken, I noticed a shadow moving behind the wall; it was Quincy. She stood there, her expression twisted in disdain and annoyance, watching everything unfold.

When Branden finally left, his desires stated, Quincy emerged. A silver dagger gleamed in her hand, the cold metal catching the light.

“How dare you touch my future husband, you bitch,” she spat, her voice venomous.

Before I could respond, she drove the dagger into my chest. The cold steel burned as it pierced my heart, my cries fading into the darkness.

Death came swiftly, but peace eluded me. My soul lingered, a restless specter bound by pain and betrayal. I watched, unseen, as Branden and Quincy went on to live their twisted version of happiness.

But their joy only fueled my rage.

In death, I made a vow.

I would return. And in my next life, they would pay for every drop of pain they inflicted upon me.

“The mate bond may have broken, but my vengeance will never fade.”

***

“Eleonor, wake up!” A loud banging on the door jolted me awake, but could not force me to open my eyes.

“Don’t disturb me,” I murmured.

But the voice continued to echo, “Eleonor, wake up and open the door.”

As the second voice came to my ear, I started to realize if I lived alone in a studio apartment, and no one ever knocked on my door like that.

But the real question was, “Who was Eleonor?”

“Eleonor, you hear me? Wake up before I break down the door again,” the voice yelled again, impatient and angry.

Panic swirled in my chest. With hesitation, I opened my eyes and sat upright. A chill ran through me as I realized something was terribly off.

“This isn’t my room,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Gone were my small but cozy apartment and familiar surroundings.

Instead, I was in an unfamiliar bedroom. The wooden furniture had a rustic charm, the room smelled faintly of pine.

“Where am I? Have I... died?” My hands flew to my cheeks, pressing against the warmth of my skin. “Is this some kind of afterlife? Did I overdo my diet and push my body too far? Oh my God!”

The voice outside the door grew more impatient. “Eleonor, stop wasting time and open the door!”

Shaking off my thoughts, I climbed out of bed with a heavy heart and shuffled to the door, unlocking it cautiously.

The door swung open, revealing a young woman with auburn curls and piercing green eyes. Her hands were full—a brown paper bag in one and a thermos in the other.

She glared at me as if I had personally wronged her.

“Finally,” she huffed. “I brought you breakfast. Now get ready, or we’ll both be late. You know the headmaster hates waiting.”

I blinked at her, utterly bewildered. “Sorry, but who...are you?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her lips twisted into a scowl. “Are you joking? Eleonor, it’s me, Everly. Your best friend, the one who keeps you from getting into trouble with the pack?”

“Pack?” The word felt foreign in my mouth, yet it tugged at some buried memory.

Everly did not wait for an explanation. She pushed me toward what I assumed was the bathroom and tossed a towel at me.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense. Shower, now! I’ll be in the kitchen setting up breakfast. If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m dragging you there myself.”

The door clicked shut behind me, and I turned toward the mirror.

The sight made my breath hitch.

The person staring back was not me. Sure, there were vague similarities—brown hair, fair skin—but the angles of the face, the sharpness of the cheekbones, and the striking amber eyes were entirely foreign.

“What the!”

I leaned closer, running my fingers over my unfamiliar features. That was not my body.

Panic swelled in my chest, but before I could think further, a voice rang out—not from the room, but inside my mind.

“Morning, Eleonor,” it yawned lazily.

I froze, gripping the edge of the sink. “Who... who’s there?”

The voice chuckled, soft but unmistakably amused. “You’re teasing me again, Eleonor? It’s me, Selene—your wolf.”

“Wolf?” My voice came out in a whisper.

“Don’t play dumb. We’re late again, aren’t we? You promised Everly you wouldn’t make her angry anymore. Now, get moving.”

The room spun around me. Selene? A wolf? The name Eleonor Malone suddenly felt oddly familiar.

Then it hit me.

It was the name of the protagonist in the book I read for the third time last night entitled “Alpha Who Never Loved Me.”

I stumbled back, gripping the sink for support as realization dawned.

“I’m...in the book?”