My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Our Pup

The northern border of Silvermoon territory was a wasteland of forgotten cabins and bitter winds. I'd been here for three weeks, stripped of my Luna title and left to survive on whatever scraps the pack deemed worthy of an Omega. My grandmother—my only ally—had followed me into exile, refusing to leave my side despite Calvin's threats.

"It's not right," she'd insisted when she arrived with nothing but a small bag of belongings. "You need someone to care for you."

Now, watching her frail form shiver beneath the threadbare blanket I'd managed to steal from the pack house laundry, I wondered if that decision had sealed her fate.

"Grandmother?" I whispered, touching her forehead. Her skin burned with fever.

She didn't respond. The cabin's single window let in a meager amount of morning light, illuminating her gaunt face. Without proper heating supplies or medical care, her body had quickly succumbed to the harsh conditions.

I pressed my palm against her cheek. "I'll find help. I promise."

But we both knew it was a lie. Calvin had made it clear—no pack resources for the rejected Luna or her supporters.

"Alice..." Her eyes fluttered open, cloudy with pain. "Come closer, child."

I knelt beside her mattress, taking her trembling hand in mine. Her fingers felt like bird bones, hollow and light.

"I've watched you fade since that day," she whispered. "Your wolf is suffering."

"She's angry," I admitted. "But not strong enough to fight back."

Grandmother's lips curved in a faint smile. "Not yet."

With surprising strength, she reached for something beneath her pillow—a small silver locket on a delicate chain.

"This belonged to my mother," she said, pressing it into my palm. "And her mother before her."

The locket was warm to the touch, etched with ancient wolf symbols I didn't recognize.

"Inside is a piece of our history," she continued, her voice growing fainter. "When the time comes... when you find him..."

"Find who?" I asked, leaning closer as her eyes began to drift closed.

"The Moon Goddess has not abandoned you." Her grip on my hand tightened briefly. "Your true destiny awaits... with him..."

Her breathing grew shallow, each inhale a painful struggle.

"Grandmother, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "Hold on."

But I felt it—the moment her spirit began to slip away, the bond between us stretching thin.

"Endure," she whispered, her final word barely audible. "For him..."

Then she was gone, her hand falling limp in mine, her eyes fixed on a point beyond this world.

Something broke inside me then—not just grief, but rage. My wolf, who had been whimpering in the corner of my mind for weeks, suddenly rose with a howl that shook my entire being.

*They will pay for this.*

I clutched the locket, pressing it against my heart as sobs wracked my body. In that moment of absolute despair, something else stirred within me—a spark of strength I hadn't felt since before the rejection.

---

Weeks passed in a blur of grief and survival. I worked in the pack's courtyard, cleaning fireplaces and scrubbing floors—tasks normally reserved for the lowest-ranked wolves. My hands were raw, my clothes perpetually stained with soot and ash.

That morning, whispers rippled through the pack like wildfire.

"The Lycan King is coming," a young Delta whispered excitedly to her companion as they passed me.

I kept my head down, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain on the stone steps.

"The Alpha King himself? Here?" another responded. "Why would he come to our territory?"

"Territory summit," the first replied. "Haven't you heard? The Northern Lycans want to expand their hunting grounds."

I tuned them out, focusing on my task. Kings and territories meant nothing to an Omega.

Hours later, the pack square erupted in commotion. I remained in the courtyard, knowing my place was far from the formal reception.

Then it happened—a wave of power so intense it drove me to my knees.

It wasn't just an Alpha aura. It was something ancient and primal—the pure bloodline of the Lycan royal family. Every wolf in the vicinity dropped to the ground, necks bared in instinctive submission.

I struggled to breathe against the crushing weight of it.

"Rise," a deep voice commanded, though the pressure remained.

Slowly, I lifted my head.

He stood in the center of the pack square, tall and imposing in a way that made Calvin look like a child playing dress-up. Alpha King Atticus Palmer's presence filled every corner of the space, his midnight-black hair and piercing silver eyes marking him as something beyond ordinary werewolf.

And then his gaze found mine.

Time stopped.

His nostrils flared slightly, and I watched his expression shift from regal indifference to shock.

"Impossible," he murmured, so quietly I shouldn't have heard it.

But I did.

Because in that moment, I caught his scent—rain and cedar and something wild that called to every fiber of my being.

My wolf surged forward with such force that I gasped.

*Mate.*

Not just any mate—a second chance mate.

His eyes widened as he took a step toward me, his royal aura faltering for the first time.

"It can't be," he said, louder now, his gaze drinking me in.

But it was. The Moon Goddess had answered my grandmother's final prayer.

And as Atticus Palmer, Alpha King of the Northern Lycans, moved toward me with wonder and hunger in his eyes, I realized that my true destiny had finally begun.