My Mate Let Me Die to Mark His Mistress

The walk back to the servants' quarters felt like a funeral march. My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me away from the Alpha’s office where the voices of my mate and son still echoed in my mind. *Let nature take its course. Putting a weak animal out of its misery.* Their words were sharper than any blade, slicing through the fragile hope the golden blood had given me just moments before.

I reached my room—a glorified closet near the kitchens that smelled perpetually of onions and damp wool. My hands shook as I pulled my battered duffel bag from under the cot. I didn't own much. A few threadbare shirts, a pair of worn jeans, and the small wooden box containing my grandmother’s amulet.

Tears blurred my vision as I shoved my clothes into the bag. I was dying. They wanted me dead. There was no point in fighting for a place that viewed me as an expiration date.

*Zoey? Zoey Hawkins?*

The voice in my head was frantic, breathless. I froze, my hand clutching a sock. It was Healer Thomas.

*I’m here,* I replied, my mental voice trembling. *I’m packing. I won’t be a burden much longer.*

*Stop!* Thomas shouted across the link, the force of it making me wince. *Listen to me carefully. Do not leave yet. I made a mistake. A terrible, unforgivable mistake.*

I sank onto the thin mattress. *What mistake? The test was clear. I saw the markers.*

*The samples,* he rushed out. *The vials were mislabeled during the transition from the Alpha’s routine physical. I just ran the secondary spectral analysis because the spiritual decay didn't match your aura signature. Zoey... the blood with the blight isn't yours.*

The world tilted on its axis. *What?*

*It’s Alpha Evan’s,* Thomas whispered, his mental tone laced with terror. *The Wolfsbane Blight is consuming him, not you. His wolf is rotting from the inside out. In fact... looking at your true sample... your levels are off the charts. It’s like your blood is pure vitality. Zoey, whatever you have in your veins has been acting as a filter for him through the mate bond. You’ve been keeping him alive.*

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I stared at the peeling grey paint on my wall.

Evan was the one dying.

My mate, who had just laughed about burying me, was the one standing on the precipice of death. And my presence, my submission, my *golden blood* was the only thing tethering his rotting soul to this earth.

*Does he know?* I asked, my voice cold.

*No,* Thomas replied. *I haven't told him yet. I came to you first. What should I do?*

A dark, unfamiliar emotion uncoiled in my chest. It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't love. It was power. If Evan knew he was dying, he would drain me dry. He would use the Alpha command to force me to heal him, to pour every drop of my golden life force into his decaying spirit until I was a husk. He would consume me to save himself, and then he would discard my empty shell for Willa.

*Don't tell him,* I commanded. The authority in my voice surprised even me. *Not yet. Let me handle this.*

*But Zoey—*

*Thomas,* I cut him off. *He wants me dead. If he finds out I'm his cure, I will be nothing but a blood bag to him. Do not tell him.*

Thomas hesitated, then sighed. *As you wish, Luna.*

Luna. He had never called me that before.

I closed the link and stood up. The tears were gone, dried by the heat of a sudden, fierce anger. I wasn't the victim anymore. I held the keys to the kingdom, and I was taking them with me.

I grabbed the scroll I had stolen from the archives—the one that had reacted to my blood—and tucked it deep into my bag. Then I reached for the wooden box. Inside lay a simple silver chain holding a crescent moon pendant carved from moonstone. My grandmother had given it to me, whispering that it was a beacon for the lost. It was the only beautiful thing I owned.

I clasped it around my neck, feeling its cool weight against my skin. I zipped the bag. I was leaving. Tonight. Let Evan rot. Let his precious Willa try to save him with her warrior skills.

I threw the strap over my shoulder and opened the door, ready to slip into the shadows. Instead, I ran straight into a wall of muscle.

Gamma Jaxson stood there, arms crossed, a sneer plastered on his face. And beside him, leaning against the doorframe with predatory grace, was Willa.

"Going somewhere, rat?" Willa asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. She looked immaculate in her leather training gear, her blonde ponytail swinging as she stepped closer.

"Let me pass," I said, keeping my head down, clutching the strap of my bag.

"I don't think so," Jaxson grunted, blocking my path.

"We heard you were lurking near the Alpha's office earlier," Willa said, her eyes narrowing. "Spying on your betters? Trying to garner sympathy with your pathetic little existence?"

"I was just working," I lied, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Liar." Willa reached out lightning-fast and snatched the bag from my shoulder.

"No!" I gasped, reaching for it, but Jaxson shoved me back. I stumbled, hitting the wall hard.

Willa unzipped the bag, upending it. My meager belongings spilled onto the dirty hallway floor. The worn shirts, the socks, the scroll—thankfully rolled tight and looking like trash—scattered everywhere.

"Look at this garbage," she laughed, kicking a t-shirt aside. Then her eyes caught the glint of silver at my throat. "And what is this?"

Before I could react, she lunged. Her fingers tangled in the chain, and she yanked.

"Don't!" I screamed, grabbing her wrist. "Please, it's my grandmother's!"

"Get your filth off me!" Willa snarled, backhanding me across the face.

The sting was sharp and hot, but the sound of the chain snapping was worse. I fell to my knees, scrambling for the pendant.

Willa was faster. She caught the moonstone in her hand, holding it up to the flickering hallway light. "Cheap junk. Just like you."

"Give it back," I begged, my dignity forgotten. "Please, Willa. It's all I have."

She looked down at me, her blue eyes devoid of any humanity. A cruel smile played on her lips. "You have nothing, Zoey. You are nothing."

She dropped the pendant.

Time seemed to slow. I watched the moonstone fall, a pale teardrop in the gloom. It hit the stone floor with a sickening crunch.

Willa didn't stop there. She brought her heavy combat boot down, grinding her heel into the fragments. I heard the delicate silver twist and the stone shatter into dust.

"Oops," she said, not even pretending to care. She stepped back, admiring the pile of glittering dust and twisted metal. "Looks like you're out of luck."

Jaxson chuckled, a low, ugly sound.

I stared at the ruins of my grandmother's legacy. The grief should have been overwhelming. It should have broken me. But as I looked at the crushed stone, something inside me snapped alongside it.

The last tether to this pack. The last reason to be Zoey the Omega.

I slowly looked up at Willa. My vision swam, not with tears, but with a sudden, golden haze. The heat in my veins surged, hot and violent.

*You just made a mistake, Willa,* my wolf growled, her voice sounding like thunder in my head. *A fatal one.*