His Mistress Wore My Luna Crown

Waking up felt less like rising from sleep and more like clawing my way out of a grave. My limbs were heavy, my veins feeling hollowed out, scraped clean of the vitality Jax had forced me to pour into Ezra. I was back in the guest suite—my suite—staring at the ceiling where a water stain shaped like a wolf’s head mocked me.

The door didn’t open; it slammed against the wall.

Elder Yasmin marched in, her heels clicking against the hardwood like gunshots. She didn’t ask if I was okay. She didn’t ask if I had recovered from draining my own life force to save her son’s mistress. She just looked at me with a sneer that curled her lip, revealing the aging gums of a wolf who had forgotten honor.

“Still in bed?” she barked, throwing the curtains open. The midday sun blinded me, sending a spike of headache through my skull. “The pack is in chaos, rumors are flying about the accident, and the Luna is lounging like a sloth.”

I pushed myself up, my arms trembling under my own weight. “I was drained, Yasmin. Jax used the Alpha Tone to force me to heal Ezra. I nearly died.”

“And whose fault was that?” she snapped, turning on me. “You were in the car. You distracted the driver with your jealousy. You nearly killed the future of this pack because you couldn’t handle seeing my son happy.”

The injustice of it stole the air from my lungs. “I was trapped in the wreckage! He left me to burn!”

Yasmin waved a hand dismissively. “Details. The point is, you are unstable. And because of your… condition, and your inability to prioritize the pack’s heir, the Council of Elders has made a decision.”

She held out her hand. “The administrative keys. Now.”

My blood ran cold. The keys were the symbol of the Luna’s authority. They controlled the treasury, the armory, the archives. “You can’t be serious. I have managed this pack’s logistics for seven years.”

“And you have run it into the ground,” she lied smoothly. “Give them to me. Ezra will be taking over your duties. She needs to learn, and unlike you, she actually cares about the pack’s future.”

I wanted to fight. I wanted to scream. But I was so weak I could barely sit up. Slowly, with shaking fingers, I reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the heavy brass ring. I dropped it into Yasmin’s palm.

“She will destroy you all,” I whispered.

Yasmin just laughed, pocketing the keys. “She is giving us a grandson. You gave us nothing but bills.”

She left as abruptly as she came, leaving me in the silence of my stripped authority.

I couldn't stay in bed. If I stayed, I would rot. I needed to get my personal files from the main office before Ezra changed the locks. I dressed in simple leggings and a sweater, my movements slow and pained, and crept out into the hallway.

The pack house was quiet; most wolves were out on patrol or training. I reached the corridor leading to the Alpha’s office, but stopped dead when I heard hushed voices drifting from the alcove near the server room—a blind spot in the security cameras.

“...too risky, Eugene. She’s going to notice the discrepancy.” That was Ezra. Her voice wasn’t the breathy, innocent coo she used with Jax. it was sharp, calculating.

“She won’t notice anything from the grave,” Beta Eugene rumbled. “Just keep the Alpha distracted. Here.”

I pressed myself against the wall, peering around the corner just enough to see. Ezra was handing Eugene a thick, manila envelope. It was bulging. I recognized the bank stamp on the corner—it was the emergency cash reserve we kept in the floor safe for natural disasters.

Eugene thumbed through the bills, a greedy grin splitting his face. “Pleasure doing business with you, future Luna.”

“Don’t spend it all on whiskey,” Ezra smirked, patting his cheek. “We have a long game to play.”

My stomach churned. This wasn't just a love affair. It was a heist. They were dismantling the pack from the inside out, and Jax was too blinded by his desperate need for a cure to see the wolves at his throat.

I retreated silently, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had no proof. My word against the pregnant 'fated mate'? Jax would kill me for suggesting it.

That evening, a knock came at my door. It was a Delta warrior.

“Alpha demands your presence at dinner,” he grunted, not meeting my eyes.

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“It wasn’t a request, Luna.”

I was marched to the dining hall like a prisoner. The long table was set for three. Jax sat at the head, looking exhausted but content. Ezra sat at his right hand, wearing my administrative keys on a chain around her neck like a trophy.

“Sit,” Jax commanded, pointing to the chair opposite Ezra.

I sat. The table was laden with food, but the centerpiece was a steaming tureen of stew that smelled rich and earthy.

“I wanted to make amends,” Ezra said softly, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. “I know things have been… difficult, Camille. But we are a pack. We should break bread together.”

She stood up and ladled a generous portion of the stew into a bowl, placing it in front of me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“It’s a traditional recipe from my grandmother,” she said. “Venison and rosemary. Please. For the sake of the pup? I can’t eat if there is tension at the table.”

Jax looked at me, his expression hard. “Eat, Camille. She cooked all afternoon. Don’t be petty.”

I looked at the stew. I looked at Jax, the man I had loved for seven years, who was now looking at me like I was a stranger. If I refused, he would use the Alpha Tone again. I was too weak to resist.

“Fine,” I said, my voice brittle.

I picked up the spoon. The steam wafting up smelled savory, masking anything else. I took a large bite, swallowing quickly to get it over with.

The reaction was instantaneous.

It didn't taste like rosemary. It tasted like sucking on a battery.

A searing heat exploded in my mouth, racing down my throat like liquid magma. My fork clattered onto the china plate. I grabbed my throat, gasping as my airway seized shut.

“Camille?” Jax frowned, putting down his drink. “What is this drama now?”

I tried to speak, but only a strangled wheeze came out. My skin felt like it was being flayed. Hives erupted along my arms in seconds, angry red welts rising on my flesh.

*Silver.*

Not just a trace. She had laced it. Pure silver dust. Fatal to any wolf, but agonizing torture for a Luna with a weakened system.

I fell out of my chair, crashing to the floor, clawing at the carpet. My vision swam, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. Through the haze, I saw Ezra covering her mouth in mock horror.

“Oh no!” she cried, her voice pitch-perfect in its distress. “Is she allergic to mushrooms? I didn’t know! Jax, do something!”

Jax stood up, confusion warring with annoyance on his face, but he didn't move toward me. He didn't smell the metallic tang of the poison. He only saw his inconvenient wife making a scene.

As darkness encroached on the edges of my vision, I looked up at Ezra. She lowered her hand from her mouth, and for a split second, she let the mask slip. She winked.

My heart stuttered. The burning consumed me. And then, there was nothing.