My Alpha’s Mistress Tried to Burn Me Alive

He moves toward me with his arms open. Like he has the right. Like a year of silence erases everything.

I step back. My spine hits the shelving unit behind the counter. Vases rattle.

"Alice," he says, and his voice cracks on my name. "Please."

"Don't touch me."

He keeps coming. His hands reach for my shoulders, and something in me snaps.

I grab the pruning shears from the counter. The blades catch the light as I point them at his chest.

"I said don't."

Xander freezes. Behind him, Marcus takes a step forward, but Ryan puts a hand on his arm. They both look like they're watching something impossible.

Xander's eyes drop to the shears, then back to my face. His jaw tightens. When he speaks, his voice drops into that tone. The one that used to make my knees weak and my head bow.

"Come to me, Omega."

The command rolls through the shop like thunder. It's laced with Alpha power, with the authority of someone who's never been told no. It should drag me forward. Should make my body move without permission.

I don't move.

The shears stay steady in my hand. My feet stay planted.

Xander's eyes widen. "Alice—"

"Alice Parker is dead," I say. "She drowned at Shadow Cliff. You felt it."

"You're standing right here."

"Ava Chen is standing here." I lower the shears but don't put them down. "And Ava doesn't take orders from Alphas."

Something flickers across his face. Shock. Maybe fear. He tries again, and this time the command is stronger. It vibrates through my bones, trying to find purchase.

"Submit."

Nothing. My wolf doesn't even stir. A year of wolfsbane tea has buried her so deep that his voice can't reach her.

I smile. It feels sharp on my face. "Is that all you've got?"

Xander staggers back like I hit him. His hand goes to his chest, and for a second, he looks lost. Like a child who just learned the rules don't apply anymore.

"How—" He can't finish the sentence.

"You should leave," I say.

He shakes his head. Once. Twice. Then his expression hardens into something desperate and determined. "No. I'm not leaving. Not without my mate."

"Then I guess you'll be here a while."

I walk past him to unlock the door. He doesn't try to stop me. When I pull it open, the afternoon sun streams in, and the bell chimes cheerfully.

"Get out of my shop."

Marcus and Ryan exchange glances. They move toward the door, but Xander doesn't budge.

"I'll be back," he says.

"I'll call the cops."

"I'll tell them you're my mate."

"I'll tell them you're a stalker." I meet his eyes. "Humans don't care about mate bonds, Xander. They care about restraining orders."

He leaves. Finally. But the look he gives me before he walks out promises this isn't over.

It's not.

He comes back the next morning with a velvet box. Inside is a diamond necklace that probably costs more than my shop. He sets it on the counter without a word.

I drop it in the trash.

The day after, it's a dress. Midnight blue silk. Just like the one I wore to the Mate Ceremony. My hands shake when I see it, but I don't let him know. I carry it outside and leave it on the sidewalk.

By the third day, there's a crowd. He brings roses—two dozen red ones—and more jewelry. A bracelet this time. He stands outside the shop window like he's courting me. Like we're in some romantic movie instead of a nightmare I can't wake up from.

I gather everything he's brought. Every gift. Every expensive attempt to buy back what he destroyed.

The lighter fluid is in the storage closet. I pour it over the pile on the sidewalk while he watches from across the street. His face goes pale.

"Alice, don't—"

I light the match.

The flames catch fast. Silk and velvet and roses burn together, sending black smoke into the clear sky. The smell is acrid and wrong, but I don't look away.

Xander crosses the street in three strides. "What are you doing?"

"Throwing out trash."

"Those were gifts."

"Those were chains." I watch the fire eat through the midnight blue silk. "You can't buy me, Xander. Not anymore."

He stares at the flames like I'm burning him instead of his money. Maybe I am.

That night, my phone explodes with notifications. Sarah sends me a link with three exclamation points.

It's a video. Xander, sitting in what looks like a hotel room, talking to someone off-camera. The caption reads: ALPHA XANDER MORGAN SPEAKS ON HIS LOST LUNA.

"She's alive," he says, and his voice is raw. Broken. "My mate. Alice Parker. She's been missing for a year, and I've finally found her."

The interviewer asks something I can't hear.

"She's suffering from trauma. Amnesia, possibly. She doesn't remember who she is. Who we are." He looks directly at the camera, and his eyes are pleading. "If anyone sees her, please. She needs help. She needs to come home."

The video has half a million views.

I throw my phone across the room.

By morning, they're everywhere. Paparazzi with cameras. Werewolves I don't recognize, their eyes glowing with curiosity or hunger. They crowd the sidewalk outside New Bloom, pressing against the windows, shouting questions.

"Is it true you're the Lost Luna?"

"Did the Alpha really abandon you?"

"Are you suffering from amnesia?"

I try to open the shop. I really do. But by noon, I can't move without someone shoving a camera in my face. A rogue wolf gets too close, his eyes tracking me like prey, and I have to lock the door.

I close early for the first time in a year.

When I flip the sign to CLOSED, I see Xander across the street. He's watching. Waiting.

And I realize he's not trying to win me back.

He's trying to trap me.