My Alpha Let Me Die to Save His Mistress

The lock on my bedroom door clicked shut, leaving me in the suffocating silence of the room that used to be a nursery. Bennett’s threat still rang in my ears—*the asylum*. I sank to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to stop the trembling that had taken over my body.

*Carmen.*

The voice didn't come from the room. It erupted inside my skull, deep and resonant, like the rumble of thunder before a storm. It wasn't the sharp, intrusive spike of a forced pack link. This was warm. It felt like liquid gold pouring into the cracks of my shattered soul.

I gasped, clutching my head. "Who...?"

*You know who,* the voice answered, heavy with suppressed emotion. *I should have claimed you ten years ago. I saw you at the Gathering of the Packs. You were sixteen. I was a boy, terrified of his own instincts.*

River.

My heart slammed against my ribs. "Get out of my head," I whispered aloud, though I knew he could hear my thoughts. "If Bennett senses you..."

*Let him sense me,* River growled. The sheer power of his Alpha aura bled through the mental link, making the air in my room vibrate. *I stayed away because you smiled at him. I thought you were happy. I thought he was worthy. But tonight... looking at you in the dirt... Carmen, say the word. Just one word. Tell me you want to be free, and I will challenge him for you right now. I will tear his throat out on the Council floor.*

A sob caught in my throat. I wanted to scream *yes*. I wanted to run into his arms and let his scent of cedar and ocean drown out the vanilla and pine that choked me. But I knew Bennett. Bennett didn't fight fair. He had Mateo, he had the numbers, and he had no honor. He would ambush River just like he ambushed the car that carried Kiara.

River would die. And it would be my fault.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears leaking out. "Don't," I projected back, forcing my mental voice to be cold, sharp. "I don't want you, River. I chose Bennett. I love my husband. Leave us alone."

The silence that followed was deafening. The golden warmth in my mind recoiled, then vanished, leaving me colder than before.

I dragged myself to the window, needing to breathe, needing to see anything other than these four walls. The view overlooked the dense forest bordering the pack lands. The moon was high, casting long, skeletal shadows across the lawn.

Movement caught my eye.

A figure in a shimmering red dress was slipping through the garden gate, heading toward the treeline. Victoria. She moved with a furtive urgency that made my skin crawl. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, watching as three dark shapes emerged from the woods.

Rogues. I knew them by their jagged movements and matted fur.

Victoria didn't flinch. She handed a heavy canvas bag to the largest rogue—the kind of bag used to transport gold bars from the pack vaults. They exchanged words I couldn't hear, but the rogue nodded, looking toward the Pack House with a hungry grin. Victoria pointed toward the Great Hall, then made a slashing motion across her throat.

My blood ran cold. She wasn't just paying them off. She was buying a massacre.

Before I could process the horror, the door behind me banged open. Bennett stood there, adjusting his cufflinks, his face a mask of bored irritation.

"Time to go, Carmen. Remember your role."

He gripped my arm, his fingers bruising, and marched me down the grand staircase. The Great Hall was alive with music and laughter, a sickening contrast to the dread pooling in my stomach. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and expensive perfume.

Bennett led me to the dais at the front of the room. He took his seat on the velvet Alpha chair, looking like a king surveying his kingdom. Then, he pointed to the floor at his feet.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice low but laced with the Alpha tone.

Humiliation burned my cheeks. The music faltered as guests turned to watch. I was the Luna of the Silver Moon Pack, and he was making me sit like a disobedient dog. But with my wolf dormant and his command pressing down on my spine, I had no choice. I sank to the rug, tucking my legs beneath me, staring at the polished tips of his shoes.

"Perfect," a voice purred.

Victoria glided into view, taking the seat next to Bennett—my seat. She smelled of rain, pine, and the faint, coppery stench of the rogues she had just met. She leaned down, swirling her champagne glass, ensuring the pendant around her neck dangled right in front of my face.

The small, white teeth clicked softly against each other. Kiara’s teeth.

"You look much better down there, Carmen," she whispered, her fingers tracing the jagged edge of a molar. "It’s where you belong. Don't worry about the party. I've arranged some... entertainment. It should be a night to die for."

She laughed, a cruel, tinkling sound that made my vision blur with red rage. I wanted to bite her ankle. I wanted to scream.

From across the room, a sudden, sharp *crack* silenced the nearby conversations.

I looked up. River was standing near the entrance, his dark suit straining against his frame. He wasn't looking at Bennett. He was looking at me, at the woman sitting on the floor in disgrace. His eyes were pools of absolute, terrifying darkness.

In his right hand, the crystal champagne flute had exploded. Shards of glass were embedded in his palm, blood dripping steadily onto the pristine floorboards. He didn't seem to notice the pain. He just watched me, his chest heaving with a growl that he was barely holding back.

Bennett chuckled above me, resting his hand on Victoria’s knee. "Looks like our guest can't handle his drink."

But I knew better. River wasn't drunk. He was a bomb, and the fuse had just burned out.