My Alpha Crowned His Mistress at Our Ceremony

The guards dragged me down the corridor, their claws digging into my arms as I struggled against their grip. My torn dress hung limply from my shoulders, the fabric stained with blood from my nose and mouth. The pack's jeers still rang in my ears as they shoved me through a doorway and locked the door behind me.

I sank to the floor of the guest room, my body trembling with shock and humiliation. The elegant furnishings seemed to mock my disheveled state—the pristine white bedding, the polished mahogany dresser, the fresh flowers in a crystal vase. This room was meant for honored guests, not for a woman who'd just been publicly reduced to a breeding vessel.

"Jocelyn."

Mason's voice came from the other side of the door. The guards' footsteps retreated as he dismissed them with a quiet command.

He entered alone, closing the door softly behind him. Without the audience of the pack, his posture changed—shoulders slightly hunched, the artificial Alpha presence dimming like a light being turned down.

"This is necessary," he said, his voice stripped of the steroid-enhanced resonance. "You know that."

I laughed bitterly, wiping blood from my lip. "Necessary? You promised to make me your Luna tonight."

"And I will... in private." He crouched before me, reaching for my hand. I flinched away. "Listen to me. Your wolf is too weak to protect the pack. The council would never accept you as Luna."

"My wolf is weak?" I stared at him in disbelief. "I've fought in underground rings for years to pay off your father's debts. I've dealt with Rogues, collected protection money—"

"Exactly." His eyes hardened. "You've done the dirty work. But you can't lead. You can't negotiate with other Alphas. You can't represent our pack with the dignity it deserves."

Luna snarled within me, her rage burning through my veins. *Lies! All lies!*

"You should be grateful," Mason continued, his voice softening as he tried to take my hand again. "I could have cast you out entirely. Instead, I'm keeping you close. You'll still be by my side, still be the mother of my children."

"The mother of your children," I repeated numbly. "But not your Luna."

"You'll manage the pack's finances from the shadows," he said, finally grasping my wrist. "That's where your real value lies, Jocelyn. You're brilliant with numbers—with money. Aura brings political connections. You bring... practical skills."

I yanked my hand away, disgust rising in my throat. "Practical skills. Like fighting until I bleed for your father's gambling debts."

"Don't be dramatic." He stood, straightening his robes. "This arrangement benefits everyone."

After he left, locking the door behind him, I curled into a ball on the floor. Tears wouldn't come—only a hollow ache that spread through my chest.

Then something shifted—a strange cramping sensation low in my abdomen. I sat up, confused by the sudden pain and the odd scent that seemed to be emanating from my own skin.

Luna stirred within me, suddenly alert. *Pup. Our pup.*

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was pregnant. With Mason's child.

A fierce, primal instinct surged through me, cutting through the fog of despair. I couldn't raise my child as a mistress, sneered at by the pack, treated as nothing more than a vessel for heirs.

I rose shakily to my feet, scanning the room for anything useful. My fingers closed around a hairpin I'd dropped earlier—a simple metal bobby pin that had fallen from my hastily pinned hair.

With practiced movements learned from years of picking locks in the underground fighting pits, I bent the metal into shape. Mason thought my "practical skills" were limited to managing his money. He'd forgotten what else I'd learned in those brutal years.

The lock gave way with a soft click.

I slipped into the hallway, barefoot to silence my steps. The pack house was quiet now, most members celebrating the new Alpha and Luna in the Great Hall. I knew the servants' passages—narrow corridors that allowed staff to move unseen through the grand building.

The back staircase would lead me down to the kitchens, then to the service entrance. Freedom lay just beyond those doors.

I was halfway down the stairs when a shadow moved above me.

"So this is where you scurry to."

The Former Luna stood at the top of the staircase, her elegant figure silhouetted against the hallway light. Her eyes narrowed as she descended toward me, each step deliberate and threatening.

"You smell different," she said, inhaling deeply. "Your scent has... changed."

My hand instinctively moved to my stomach as her eyes tracked the movement.

"No," she whispered, her face contorting with rage. "No, no, no."

She moved with surprising speed for a woman her age, blocking my path down the stairs. "You think you can carry my son's heir? A low-born wolf like you?"

Her perfectly manicured nails extended into claws as she advanced toward me, her eyes gleaming with hatred. "Aura will bear the next Alpha of this pack. Not some underground fighter's whore."