My Alpha’s Mistress Tried to Burn Me Alive

The river spit me out three miles downstream. I crawled onto the bank more dead than alive, coughing up water that tasted like metal and regret.

I didn't go back.

A year later, I'm Ava now. Ava Chen. The name came from a coffee cup I found in a trash can the day I stumbled into this coastal town. It felt right. Clean. Like someone who'd never eaten off a floor or believed an Alpha's lies.

New Bloom sits on the corner of Pine and Harbor Street. The shop is small—barely big enough for the counter, the cooler, and the worktable where I arrange flowers. The walls are painted soft cream, and sunlight streams through the front windows most mornings. It smells like roses and eucalyptus and the lavender I keep in bundles by the register.

It smells like peace.

Every morning, I brew Grandma Elena's tea. Wolfsbane, chamomile, and three other herbs I won't name. It tastes bitter, burns going down, but it works. My scent disappears under layers of flowers and chemicals. My wolf—if she's even still in there—stays silent. Buried.

I like it that way.

The bell above the door chimes around noon. A guy walks in wearing an expensive suit that doesn't match the casual vibe of the town. He's got that confident stride, the kind that says he's used to people moving out of his way.

Werewolf. I can tell even without scent. It's in the way he moves, the way his eyes scan the room like he's assessing threats.

I paste on my customer-service smile. "Welcome to New Bloom. What can I help you with?"

"I need an arrangement," he says, glancing at his phone. "Something impressive. For a summit."

Summit. Pack business. I keep my hands steady as I pull out my order pad. "What's the occasion?"

"Alliance meeting. Needs to look expensive."

I nod and start sketching. White roses, calla lilies, some greenery for depth. He watches me work, and I feel his eyes linger a little too long.

"You're really good at this," he says.

I don't look up. "Thanks."

"Seriously. You've got a gift." He pulls out his phone. "Mind if I take a picture? My sister's getting married. She'd love to see your work."

I should say no. Every instinct screams to say no. But Ava Chen is friendly. Normal. Human.

"Sure," I say, and I even smile.

He angles his phone, and I laugh at something he says—I don't even remember what. The shutter clicks. He grins, types something, and pockets the phone.

He pays in cash, tips well, and leaves.

I forget about him by closing time.

Three days later, my phone buzzes with a notification. Sarah, my neighbor, sent me a screenshot.

*Girl, you're FAMOUS.*

It's an Instagram post. The photo from the shop. Me, laughing, surrounded by flowers. The caption reads: *Prettiest florist in Seattle.*

It has thousands of likes.

My stomach drops. I zoom in on the comments. Most are harmless—people asking where the shop is, compliments on the arrangement. But then I see the others. Usernames that sound like pack names. Comments in code I recognize from my old life.

*Is that—?*

*No way. She's dead.*

*Those eyes though.*

I delete the app. Throw my phone on the counter. It doesn't matter. It's fine. I'm fine.

I'm not fine.

Two days later, the bell chimes.

I'm in the back, trimming stems, when I hear it. The sound makes my hands freeze. It's just a customer. It's always just a customer.

But the air changes. Gets heavier. Charged.

I step into the front room, and the world stops.

Three men stand inside my shop. The one in front is tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that's longer than I remember. His suit is wrinkled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. He looks like he hasn't slept in a year.

Xander.

Behind him, Marcus and Ryan. The Beta and Gamma. They're watching me like I'm a ghost.

Maybe I am.

Xander moves first. He crosses the shop in three strides and locks the door. The click echoes.

"We're closed," I say. My voice comes out steady. Ava's voice.

Xander inhales deeply. His eyes close like he's in pain. When they open, they're wild. Desperate.

"You're alive," he says.

His voice cracks on the last word, and something inside me cracks too. But I don't let it show.

"You have the wrong person," I say.

He takes another step. I take one back. My hip hits the counter.

"Alice." My name sounds like a prayer. Like a curse. "I know it's you."

"My name is Ava."

"Your eyes." He's close now. Too close. I can see the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shake. "I'd know them anywhere."

The flowers around us suddenly feel suffocating. All that lavender and wolfsbane, and it's not enough. It was never going to be enough.

"You need to leave," I say.

He reaches for me. I flinch. He freezes, and something like anguish crosses his face.

"Please," he whispers. "Just—please. Let me explain."

"Explain what?" The words come out sharp. "How it was all a game? How you laughed while I ate off the floor?"

Marcus shifts uncomfortably behind him. Ryan's staring at the floor.

Xander's jaw tightens. "I was wrong. I was—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I've been losing my mind. The bond—when you jumped, it nearly killed me."

"Good," I say.

His eyes flash. For a second, I see the Alpha. The one who commanded a pack. The one who broke me.

Then it's gone, and he just looks broken himself.

"Come home," he says. "Please. The pack needs you. I need you."

I laugh. It sounds hollow. "I died a year ago, remember? At Shadow Cliff. You felt it."

"You're standing right here."

"Ava Chen is standing here. Alice Parker drowned."

His hand reaches out again, and this time I don't flinch. I just stare at him until he drops it.

"I won't let you go," he says. "Not again."

The Alpha command bleeds into his voice. It wraps around me, trying to force submission. Trying to make me obey.

But I've been drinking wolfsbane for a year. My wolf is buried so deep, she can't hear him.

I meet his eyes and smile. It's not a kind smile.

"You don't have a choice," I say.

And I watch something in him shatter.