My Alpha Crowned His Mistress at Our Ceremony

"You think you can carry my son's heir?" The Former Luna's voice rose to a shriek that echoed through the stairwell. "A low-born wolf like you?"

Her eyes blazed with a hatred so pure it momentarily stunned me. I backed away, one hand still protectively covering my stomach.

"Please," I said, my voice barely audible. "I'm carrying Mason's child."

"Exactly why you must be removed." She advanced toward me, her perfectly manicured claws extending. "Aura will bear the next Alpha of this pack. Not some underground fighter's whore."

Luna snarled within me, sensing the threat. *Protect the pup!*

I tried to dodge around her, but the Former Luna moved with surprising speed for a woman her age. Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm with inhuman strength.

"You're nothing but a mongrel," she hissed, her face inches from mine. "You've polluted my son's bloodline."

"Let go of me!" I struggled against her grip, but years of fighting had taught me to recognize when I was outmatched. This wasn't a fair fight—this was an execution.

"I won't let you destroy everything I've built," she said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The Silverfang Pack will not be tainted by your kind."

With a strength born of pure hatred, she shoved me backward. I felt myself falling, my arms windmilling uselessly as I tried to catch myself. The wooden stairs rushed up to meet me.

"No!" I cried out, curling instinctively around my stomach as I tumbled down the steep flight of stairs.

Each impact drove the breath from my lungs. Pain exploded through my body as I crashed against the hard edges, unable to stop my descent. My head struck something solid, and darkness edged my vision.

The last thing I heard was the Former Luna's cold voice from above: "Clean this up. No one is to know."

Then came the cramping—a pain so intense it transcended the physical. Something warm and wet spread between my thighs as I finally came to rest at the bottom of the stairs.

"Luna," I whispered to my wolf as consciousness slipped away. "Save our pup."

---

Beeping machines pulled me back to awareness. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils as I blinked against harsh fluorescent lights. I was in the pack infirmary, hooked to monitors, an IV drip feeding clear fluid into my arm.

Empty. I felt empty.

*Lost*, Luna whimpered within me. *Our pup is gone.*

I didn't need to ask if she meant our unborn child. The hollow ache in my core told me everything.

"About time you woke up."

Mason's voice came from beside my bed. He sat slouched in a chair, scrolling through his phone, not even bothering to look at me.

"The pack is in an uproar," he continued, his tone annoyed rather than concerned. "Rumors are spreading about what happened."

I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. A tear slipped down my cheek instead.

"Mother said you fell," Mason said, finally glancing at me. "That you were running away and tripped."

The lie was so blatant, so cold-blooded that I couldn't even respond.

"This is causing problems with the Dean alliance," he continued, standing up with a sigh. "Aura is distressed. She feels threatened by you."

Another tear escaped as I turned my face away from him.

Mason leaned over, pulling a folded paper from his jacket pocket. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to mind-link the entire pack on a live video feed. You're going to apologize to Aura for stressing the Luna. You're going to accept your demotion willingly."

He thrust the paper into my hand. A script. He wanted me to read from a script.

"The broadcast is set for tonight," he said, checking his watch. "Don't fuck this up."

I stared at him—really looked at him for the first time. The man I'd sacrificed everything for. The man whose rise to power I'd funded with my blood and dignity.

He was nothing. A weak, parasitic coward who'd built his entire existence on my suffering.

"I understand," I whispered, my voice hoarse but steady.

Relief washed over his face as he patted my hand condescendingly. "Good girl. I knew you'd see reason."

He left the room, locking the door behind him. The moment his footsteps faded, I sat up slowly, ignoring the pain that shot through my body.

With trembling fingers, I reached into my boot lining and pulled out a small burner phone—the one thing the guards hadn't thought to confiscate during my humiliating procession through the pack house.

I dialed a number from memory, praying it still worked.

Three rings, then a rough voice answered. "Who is this?"

"It's Jocelyn," I said softly. "I need to execute Protocol Zero."

There was a pause, then: "You sure about that, Foster? Once we start, there's no stopping."

I looked down at the script Mason had given me, then crumpled it in my fist.

"Positive," I replied, my voice stronger now. "It's time."