My Mate Publicly Rejected Me for His Pregnant Mistress

At nine o'clock sharp, my mate walked into the Summit hall with another woman on his arm. I walked in behind them.

That was my place. Three steps back, behind the Beta, behind the guards. Technically, I was the fated mate of Maddox, Alpha of the Blackridge Pack. In practice, I was the wolfless girl he brought along so no one could say he'd hidden me.

Kennedy's hand rested in the crook of his elbow. She was from the Nighthollow Pack, but you wouldn't know it from the way she moved. Chin up. Shoulders soft. She wore the Luna's posture like a dress she'd already had tailored.

I could smell her on him. Not just near him. On him. Her scent was sharp and sweet, like crushed cherries over cold metal, and it sat on his collar, his wrist, the skin of his throat. Layered. Fresh. From this morning.

The mark on my neck went tight, like a bruise someone pressed.

Around the hall, Alphas and their Lunas turned to look. Their noses lifted. Their eyes went to Kennedy. Wolves I'd shaken hands with last year looked right through me, like I was a pillar.

My own scent, wildflower and winter pine, barely reached past my own skin. It never did.

Maddox didn't look back at me once.

Something inside my ribs shifted. Not pain. Pressure. A heavy, slow turning, like a sleeping animal rolling over. I'd felt it my whole life. I'd never known what to call it.

I pressed my thumb to my mark and kept walking.

***

The midday recess came at noon. By 12:10, Kennedy had found me.

"Walk with me," she said, smiling for the wolves near the doors. "Just for a minute."

I went. Not because she asked. Because I wanted to see what she'd planned.

She led me into the private wing. The stone walls swallowed the noise from the hall. Our footsteps echoed. Cold air came up from a staircase at the far end of the corridor.

She stopped and held up her wrist.

A silver bracelet. Thin. Carved with the Blackridge crest. I knew it. It had belonged to Maddox's mother. The Luna's bracelet.

"He put it on me this morning," Kennedy said. "Before breakfast. He was very gentle about it."

I said nothing.

"He's announcing us before the Summit closes. In front of everyone." Her voice was warm. Kind, almost. Like a nurse telling you the bad news softly. "Briella, I'm saying this as a friend. You should go. Quietly. Today. Before it gets humiliating for you."

She watched my face. I knew that look. She was waiting for tears. A shaking lip. A raised voice. Anything she could carry back to him.

I gave her my stillness. Three years had taught me how.

"Is that all?" I asked.

For half a second, her smile slipped. Then it came back, smaller. "You really don't feel anything, do you? No wolf, no feelings. It makes sense."

Inside me, the thing behind my ribs moved again. Harder this time. A low pulse rose in my chest, almost like a growl. My vision flickered, the edges of the corridor going bright for one blink. Silver-bright.

Kennedy didn't notice. She'd already turned away.

She walked to the top of the staircase. Then she looked back. Not at me. Past me. Down the empty corridor. Checking.

My stomach dropped.

"Kennedy," I said.

She smiled at me. A real smile, the first one all day.

Then she threw herself down the stairs.

She didn't trip. She didn't stumble. She bent her knees and launched backward, and her body hit the stone with a sound I will never forget. A crack. A slap of skin. A long, rolling thud, again and again, all the way to the bottom.

Then she screamed.

"Help! Somebody help me! She pushed me!"

Doors banged open. Feet pounded on stone. Within seconds the corridor filled with wolves, guards, Lunas with their hands over their mouths.

I stood at the top of the stairs. Alone.

Kennedy lay crumpled at the bottom. Blood ran from her temple and her split lip. One arm was twisted under her. The other was stretched up toward me, fingers shaking.

"Briella," she sobbed, and her voice broke right on my name. "She came at me from behind. She attacked me. Please, the baby..."

The baby.

Every head turned to me.

And I smelled it. Under the blood and the cherry-sweet perfume, I caught something thin and bitter. Something I knew. I'd tasted it in the back of my throat after dinner for years and never known why.

I didn't have time to name it.

The crowd parted. Maddox came through it fast, like he'd been waiting just around the corner. Maybe he had.

He looked at Kennedy on the floor. Then up the stairs. At me, standing over her. At the empty corridor behind me. No witnesses.

He didn't ask a single question.

He didn't look at my face.

He climbed the stairs, two at a time, and took my arm.

His grip wasn't rough. It was worse than rough.

It was certain.