My Alpha Destroyed My Hands to Protect His Mistress

I stayed in my room through breakfast. The smell of bacon and coffee drifted up from the dining hall, but I couldn't face them. Couldn't face her.

Macie brought me water and tried to get me to eat something. I shook my head. My hands throbbed under the fresh bandages she'd wrapped this morning, tight and clean. She'd worked in silence, her jaw clenched so hard I thought her teeth might crack.

"You need to see this," she said finally, pulling out a small device from her apron pocket. It looked like a compact mirror, but when she opened it, silver light pooled in the glass.

A recording device. Lycan tech.

"I'm going down there," she said. "To the dining hall. She's wearing it today."

I didn't need to ask what she meant. The Luna Stone. Of course Alondra would wear it. She'd won, hadn't she?

"Don't do anything," I said. My voice came out hoarse. "Please, Macie. Just record it."

Her eyes flashed—not her human eyes, but something deeper. Her wolf. For a second, I saw the Gamma she really was, the warrior hiding beneath the maid's uniform.

"I won't touch her," Macie said. But the way she said it made me think she wanted to.

She left. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my ruined hands. The tattoos were still there, dark lines against pale skin, but they felt dead. Empty channels with nothing to carry.

Time crawled. Then Macie was back, her face flushed, the device clutched in her fist.

"She paraded it in front of Elder Simmons and Elder Kara," Macie said, her voice shaking. "Told them River gave it to her because she's his true mate. His true Luna."

I closed my eyes. The mate bond pulsed in my chest, a sick, twisted thing that wouldn't let go.

"I got it all," Macie said. "Every word. Every smile."

Good. The Lycan Court would need evidence.

A commotion outside made us both freeze. Voices. Shouting. Not the panicked kind from yesterday's rogue attack, but something else. Something controlled.

I moved to the window. Below, a sleek black vehicle rolled through the pack gates. It looked wrong here, too modern, too clean against the rustic pack houses and dirt roads. The kind of car that cost more than most wolves made in a year.

It stopped in the center of the courtyard.

Four figures stepped out. They wore dark suits, not the casual clothes pack members favored. Their movements were precise, coordinated. Enforcers. I recognized the way they carried themselves—the same way Macie moved when she forgot to play weak.

The lead figure was tall, broad-shouldered, with silver streaking his dark hair. Even from here, I could feel his authority. It pressed against the air like a weight.

Marcus Blackwood. The Lycan King's right hand.

"They're here," Macie breathed beside me. "Protocol Zero worked."

River emerged from the pack house, his Alpha aura flaring. He looked confident, almost pleased. He probably thought they were here to help with the rogue problem. To praise him for his leadership.

He had no idea.

I watched Marcus extend his hand. River shook it, all smiles. They talked—too far away for me to hear, but I could read River's body language. Relaxed. Proud.

Then Marcus said something that made River's smile falter.

They moved inside. The other Enforcers followed, their eyes scanning everything. One of them looked up at my window. Our gazes met for a heartbeat before he looked away.

"We need to get you out," Macie said. "Now, while River's distracted."

"Out where?"

"To them. To Marcus." She was already moving, pulling a cloak from my closet. "You're the victim here, Julie. They need to hear your side."

My side. As if I had one. As if anyone would believe the weak, useless Luna over their powerful Alpha.

But Macie was already wrapping the cloak around my shoulders, careful of my hands. "There's a back staircase. It leads to the kitchens. We can slip out through the service entrance."

"River will know—"

"River is busy explaining to a Lycan Enforcer Captain why his wards failed and his territory was breached." Macie's voice was hard. "He's busy trying to justify why he destroyed sacred Lycan artifacts. Trust me, he's not thinking about you right now."

She was right. She was always right.

We moved through the pack house like ghosts. The back staircase was narrow, dark. My hands screamed with every step, but I bit down on the pain. We passed the kitchens—empty, everyone drawn to the spectacle in the main hall—and slipped out into the cold morning air.

The black vehicle sat thirty yards away. One of the Enforcers stood beside it, arms crossed. When he saw us, he straightened.

Macie pulled back her sleeve, revealing a mark on her wrist. A silver wolf, the symbol of the Lycan Court.

The Enforcer's eyes widened. He nodded once, sharp and quick, then opened the vehicle's back door.

"Get in," Macie said. "Marcus will want to see you."

I climbed inside. The interior was dark, quiet. The door closed behind me with a soft click.

Through the tinted windows, I could see the pack house. Somewhere inside, River was talking to Marcus. Somewhere inside, he was sealing his own fate.

And he still didn't know what he'd destroyed.