He Died Just To Take Another Mate

Aveline’s POV

A knock echoed through my room that night, dragging me out of a thin, restless half-sleep. My eyes burned, swollen from crying until the sky had lightened, but I forced myself upright anyway. Somewhere deep inside, my wolf shifted uneasily, unsettled and alert.

The door opened before I could even answer.

“Aveline,” a familiar voice murmured.

Theo.

Or rather, the man everyone insisted was Theo.

But every time I looked at him, something inside me recoiled. His stare wasn’t distant or subdued like a grieving twin’s should be. It was sharp—too intense, too alive. It was Alaric’s gaze wearing another name.

He stepped fully into the room, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He looked exhausted, hair slightly disordered, face shadowed—as if he were the one crushed beneath sorrow.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. His jaw tightened, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. “I never should’ve raised my hand against you. I lost control.”

I didn’t respond. My throat felt scorched, packed tight with words I refused to give him.

He came closer, his tone firm but carefully restrained. “I’m grieving the child in my brother’s place,” he continued. “You know Alaric would never have wanted that pup gone. And as his twin, it’s my responsibility to guard what belonged to him.”

My wolf bristled violently at the word guard.

Protect? No. This was nothing but another lie, delivered straight to my face.

I said nothing. I simply pulled the blanket closer and turned toward the wall, cutting him out of my sight.

“Aveline,” he tried again, softer now, coaxing. “You need to rest. You’ve been through too much.”

Before I could stop him, his hands lifted the blanket higher, tucking it around my shoulders as if I were something fragile, breakable. His fingers lingered at the edge of the fabric.

“I heard this helps you sleep,” he added quietly.

I bit into my tongue until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

He was still pretending. Still playing the role. Still hiding behind a dead man’s name—all for her.

When he finally left, the click of the door closing felt like a weight settling on my chest. I stared into the darkness until morning, numb, unmoving, unable even to cry.

---

I woke the next day to chaos.

Shouting rattled the walls. Feet thundered down the corridors. Elowen’s sobs echoed through the packhouse like a siren.

When I opened my door, I was met with hostile stares. Servants. Warriors. Elder maidens. All gathered, whispering with sharp mouths and sharpened eyes.

“She destroyed them.”

“Burned everything.”

“Even the rare ones we nearly died collecting.”

My stomach dropped.

Elowen appeared moments later, wrapped in a pale robe, tears streaking her cheeks. She looked pitiful—small, broken, clinging to sympathy like a lifeline. But when her gaze met mine, I saw it.

Triumph.

She buried her face against the Alpha’s chest.

“I saw her,” she sobbed loudly. “I watched Aveline burn my medicine. Every last bit.”

My breath caught. “That’s not true!” I shouted, but my words were swallowed by gasps and angry murmurs.

The Luna mother spun toward me, horror twisting her face. “How could you do something so cruel? You tried to kill her by destroying her treatment? Haven’t you caused enough harm already?”

The word murderer drifted through the room like poison smoke.

I wanted to tear the truth from Elowen’s mouth. To scream until the walls cracked. But before I could move, the Alpha raised his hand.

Silence fell instantly.

His expression was cold, merciless. “Confine her to her room. No meals. No water.”

My wolf roared inside me, but my body froze. Two servants seized my arms before I could react, their grips brutal.

Elowen’s crying intensified. She clutched him tighter, shaking her head weakly. “Please, Alpha… don’t punish her. She’s grieving. She lost her mate. She didn’t mean it. I’m fine—we’ll replace the herbs. Let her go.”

Her voice was gentle. Virtuous. Convincing.

But Alaric’s jaw hardened. He looked at her with false concern, then turned to me with eyes like stone. “No. Aveline’s actions are dangerous. She intended to worsen your condition by destroying your medicine.”

“You know that’s a lie!” I screamed. “I never touched them!”

“Take her away,” he said flatly.

They dragged me down the corridor as I kicked and fought, but the warriors were stronger. They threw me into my room, locked the door, and left.

For two days, no one came.

No food.

No water.

The first night, I clawed at the door until my nails split. By the second, my throat was so dry I couldn’t scream anymore. My wolf whimpered faintly, weakened by hunger.

I curled on the floor, shaking, fury burning hotter than the tears streaming down my face.

I will make him suffer.

I will make him feel every shred of this hunger, this rage, this helplessness.

That promise kept me breathing.

On the second night, the lock turned.

The door opened.

Two servants stood there, faces unreadable. “Stand up.”

I blinked at them, dizzy. “What…?”

“Orders from the Alpha,” one replied. “Elowen wants you to prepare dinner.”

My body shook as they hauled me through the halls. My legs felt hollow, barely holding me upright.

The kitchen stank of firewood and raw meat. They shoved me toward the counter. “Cook.”

My stomach twisted violently at the sight of food. My knees nearly buckled. But the warriors hovered close, daring me to refuse.

My hands trembled as I took the knife, slicing, stirring, moving through the motions. I cooked the same meals I once made for Alaric—dishes he used to praise with a smile that once meant everything.

Now, they tasted like ash.

When the stew finished simmering, I caught my reflection in the polished metal of the pot.

Sunken cheeks. Red-rimmed eyes. A stranger staring back.

And in that moment, I swore silently:

This was not how my story ended.

They could starve me. Strike me. Lock me away.

But they would not break me.

And one day—

he would understand what it meant to be trapped in hunger.