My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over His Wolfless Luna

The attic door creaked open just after midnight.

I was on my feet before the sound fully registered, my wolf rising despite the silver's constant drain. The footsteps were light, hesitant. Not the heavy tread of Delta warriors or Julien's confident stride.

A figure slipped through the doorway, barely more than a shadow. Small frame, hunched shoulders. The scent hit me a second later—familiar, bringing me back to cold nights in the foster pack, huddled in corners while the stronger wolves took the best sleeping spots.

"Samson?"

He flinched at his name, nearly dropping the cloth bundle in his hands. His eyes darted to the stairs behind him, then back to me. Even in the dim light from the window, I could see how thin he'd gotten. Omega life in the Silverfang Pack clearly wasn't much better than it had been in the foster system.

"I—" He started, stopped, tried again. "I brought food. They're not feeding you enough. I heard the kitchen staff talking."

He set the bundle on the small table near the door, unwrapping it to reveal bread, cheese, and an apple. Real food, not the scraps they'd been sending up twice a day.

I moved closer, and he stepped back instinctively. The silver made my movements slower, but I kept my voice gentle. "Thank you."

"There's more." He pulled something from his pocket. A phone. Cheap, probably a burner, but it looked functional. "I know they took yours. I thought... you might need it."

My fingers closed around the device. It felt like a lifeline.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

His gaze dropped to the floor. "I should've helped you back then. In the foster pack. I saw what he did—how Julien would set things up, make himself look like the hero. I was too scared to say anything." His voice cracked. "I'm still scared. But I can't just watch anymore."

The mate bond twisted in my chest, a reminder of all those years I'd believed Julien's protection was real. All those times I'd thought I was lucky to have him.

"What else do you know?" I kept my tone even, but my wolf was alert now, focused.

Samson's hands twisted together. "Mya's been going through your things. She took a necklace—the one with the silver wolves and the moonstone centerpiece. She's been showing it off to anyone who'll look."

My ancestral Lycan necklace. The one piece I'd never intended to wear publicly, too recognizable, too clearly marked with the symbols of royal bloodlines. I'd kept it hidden, wrapped in silk at the back of my jewelry box.

"She's wearing it tonight," Samson continued. "To the Regional Alpha Summit. I heard her talking to Julien about it. She thinks it'll make her look legitimate, like she's already Luna. She's planning to meet with some of her family connections there—they're offering a loan to keep the pack afloat."

The Regional Alpha Summit. Every major pack in the northeastern territory would be there. Alphas, Lunas, heirs. And Mya would walk in wearing stolen Lycan royalty around her neck, pretending it was hers.

I turned the phone over in my hands. "What time does the summit start?"

"Seven. They're leaving in an hour." He glanced at the stairs again. "I should go. If they catch me up here—"

"Go." I met his eyes. "And Samson? Thank you. Really."

He nodded once, quick and nervous, then slipped back through the door. The lock clicked behind him, but it didn't matter anymore.

I had a phone.

I moved to the window, as far from the silver-laced door as possible, and pulled up the encrypted messaging app I'd had Elena install on all SSL devices. My fingers flew across the screen, muscle memory taking over.

The response came in seconds.

*Alpha. We've been trying to reach you.*

*I need a hack,* I typed. *Regional Alpha Summit. Audiovisual system. Can you access it remotely?*

A pause. Then: *Give us twenty minutes.*

I leaned against the wall, phone clutched in my hand, and watched the packhouse below. Lights blazed in the main wing. I could see figures moving past windows—Julien and Mya, probably, getting ready for their grand entrance.

My wolf stirred, pushing against the silver's suppression. Not much longer now.

The phone buzzed.

*We're in. Full control of their A/V system. What do you need?*

I smiled, and it felt like baring teeth.

*Stand by. I'll send you footage. When I give the signal, I want it playing on every screen in that summit hall.*

*Understood, Alpha.*

I pulled up the video I'd recorded outside Julien's office—the one with their voices, their plans, their betrayal laid bare. Sent it through the encrypted channel.

Then I opened my photo gallery. Found the security footage Samson had helped me access weeks ago, back when I'd still had my devices. The clip showed Mya in my sanctuary, hands rifling through my jewelry box, slipping the Lycan necklace into her bag.

I sent that too.

The phone buzzed again. *Ready when you are.*

I looked out at the packhouse, at the luxury cars pulling up to the main entrance. Julien emerged first, sharp suit, confident stride. Then Mya, in a dress that probably cost more than Samson made in a year.

And around her neck, catching the light from the entrance lanterns, was my ancestral Lycan necklace.

I touched the base of my throat. Felt my wolf rise, silver be damned.

"Let's see how legitimate you look when everyone knows you're a thief," I whispered.

Then I sent the signal.