My Mate Chose My Rival

I woke to the sound of hangers scraping against metal. The guest room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight, but light spilled from the hallway through the crack under the door.

Silver stirred immediately. "Someone's in your closet."

I slipped out of bed and moved silently to the door, easing it open just enough to see down the hall. The master bedroom door stood wide open, and inside, Sutton was rifling through my walk-in closet like she owned it.

My healer's robes hung on the far wall—custom-made silk in deep emerald, embroidered with the Silverwood Pack crest in silver thread. They'd cost me three months' salary, but they were worth every penny. A symbol of my rank. My achievement.

Sutton pulled them off the hanger.

"No," Silver snarled.

I was already moving.

I reached the doorway just as Sutton slipped the robe over her shoulders. The silk pooled around her feet—she was shorter than me, and the hem dragged on the floor. She turned to the full-length mirror, running her hands down the fabric with a look of pure greed.

"Those are mine," I said.

She didn't even flinch. Just kept staring at herself in the mirror, smoothing the silk over her hips. "They look better on me."

"Take them off."

"Why?" She turned, and her smile was vicious. "You're not Lead Healer anymore. Not really. Everyone knows you're just the pathetic she-wolf who couldn't keep her mate."

Silver lunged forward, but I held her back. Barely.

Sutton pressed the collar to her neck, rubbing the fabric against her skin in slow, deliberate circles. Then she moved to her wrists, her throat, behind her ears. The motion was obsessive. Frantic.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Her eyes met mine in the mirror. "Making sure I smell like success. Like power." She inhaled deeply, her expression almost euphoric. "Like everything you used to be."

Something cold slithered down my spine. This wasn't just theft. This was something else. Something wrong.

I pulled out my phone and took three quick photos. Sutton didn't notice. She was too busy rubbing my robe against her collarbone, her movements growing more aggressive.

"You're sick," I said quietly.

She laughed. "I'm smart. You just don't see it yet."

I turned and walked away before Silver could make me do something I'd regret. Back in the guest room, I opened my evidence journal and wrote down every detail. The obsessive rubbing. The way she'd focused on pulse points. The strange euphoria in her expression.

I didn't understand it yet. But I would.

---

Lucas announced the dinner party on Thursday morning. He didn't ask. Just informed me that six of his warrior friends were coming over Saturday night to celebrate.

"Celebrate what?" I asked.

"My fated mate bond, obviously." He was scrolling through his phone, not even looking at me. "And you'll cook, right? Nothing fancy. Just your usual."

Silver wanted to rip his throat out. I wanted to laugh in his face.

Instead, I said, "Of course."

---

Saturday evening, I set the table with my mother's china. Roasted chicken, garlic potatoes, fresh bread. The kind of meal that took hours to prepare. Lucas's friends arrived at seven, loud and boisterous, filling the apartment with the smell of beer and testosterone.

Ryan Mitchell was the last to arrive. He'd always been different from the others—quieter, more observant. He shook Lucas's hand, but his eyes found mine across the room, and something flickered in them. Pity, maybe. Or disgust.

Dinner started well enough. Lucas held court at the head of the table, Sutton draped over his shoulder like a trophy. He told the story of their mating bond three times, each version more dramatic than the last.

Then Ryan spoke.

"So you're keeping the estate?" he asked, his tone casual.

Lucas grinned. "Of course. Maya and I built this life together."

"Did you?" Ryan's eyes were sharp. "Because I remember you moving in after she bought the place. I remember you borrowing money for warrior training. I remember—"

"That's enough," Lucas snapped.

But Ryan wasn't finished. "I'm just wondering where the honor is in taking a woman's home after you marked someone else."

The table went silent.

Sutton's face flushed red. She grabbed her wine glass and stood so fast her chair tipped backward. "How dare you question us! The Moon Goddess—"

"The Moon Goddess doesn't give you the right to steal," Ryan said quietly.

Sutton's hand moved before I could process it. She hurled her wine glass at the wall behind Ryan's head. It shattered, and red wine exploded across my cream carpet like blood.

"Get out!" she shrieked. "All of you, get out!"

The warriors exchanged glances. One by one, they stood and filed toward the door. Ryan was the last to leave. He paused beside me.

"You deserve better," he said, too low for Lucas to hear.

Then he was gone.

Lucas turned to me, his expression thunderous. "Clean that up."

I looked at the wine staining my carpet. At Sutton, who was breathing hard, her face still flushed with rage. At Lucas, who was pointing at the mess like I was his servant.

"No," I said.

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I said no." I met his gaze and didn't look away. "Your mate made the mess. She can clean it up."

For a moment, I thought he might hit me. His aura flared, pressing down on me with crushing weight. But I didn't move. Didn't flinch.

Finally, he turned away. "Forget it. We're going out."

They left twenty minutes later, Sutton still muttering about disrespect and ungrateful she-wolves.

The moment the elevator doors closed, I pulled out my phone and called the security company Victoria had recommended.

"I need cameras," I said. "And alarms. Silver-laced. Can you install them tonight?"

The technician arrived within the hour.