My Mate Sent Me to Die for His Mistress

The wine spread across the white tablecloth like blood.

I watched it happen in slow motion—my hand knocking the goblet, the dark liquid arcing through candlelight, splashing onto the pristine fabric. The music stopped. Conversations died mid-sentence. Every eye in the banquet hall turned toward me.

And I couldn't stop crying.

The sobs tore out of me, ugly and desperate. Snowy's fur swayed gently against Morgan's throat as she leaned back in mock concern. That white softness that used to nuzzle against my palm when I was alone and breaking. Now a trophy. Now a taunt.

"Claire." Kane's voice cut through my gasping breaths like a blade. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. My broken ribs screamed with each heaving sob.

"Stand up." His Alpha Tone slammed into me, and my body obeyed before my mind could catch up. I rose on shaking legs, wine dripping from the table edge onto my too-loose dress. "You're making a scene over a rodent."

"She killed her," I choked out. "Morgan killed Snowy and she's wearing her—"

"Enough." Kane's eyes flashed gold with his wolf. The entire pack felt the weight of his dominance pressing down. "This is pathetic, Claire. Even for you."

Morgan touched his arm gently. "Alpha, perhaps the Luna isn't feeling well. The stress of the season—"

"The stress of being a spoiled, ungrateful mate who can't handle the smallest disappointment." He stood, towering over me. Around us, pack members whispered. I caught fragments—weak Luna, embarrassing, losing her mind. "You will apologize to Morgan for disrupting her celebration. Now."

The words stuck in my throat like shards of glass.

"I said NOW." The Alpha Command crushed down on me, stealing what little air I had left.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking at the woman wearing my rabbit's fur. "I'm sorry, Morgan."

She smiled, soft and forgiving. "Of course, Luna. I understand you're... struggling."

Kane dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Go back to your quarters. You're done here."

I fled through the silent crowd, their stares burning into my back.

***

The blood came three days later.

I was in my quarters, staring at Snowy's empty cage, when the coughing started. At first it was just a tickle, an irritation in my throat. Then it became violent, wracking spasms that bent me double.

When I pulled my hand away from my mouth, it was covered in red.

Panic shot through me. My wolf whimpered weakly, barely conscious inside my mind. The burning started next—a searing pain in my veins, like liquid fire crawling through my bloodstream.

I stumbled to the pack clinic, each step agony. Dr. Reed looked up from his desk with barely concealed annoyance.

"Luna. What now?"

"I'm coughing up blood." I showed him my stained hands. "And my veins—they're burning. Something's wrong. Please, I need tests—"

"Sit down." He didn't move from his chair. "How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?"

"It started today, but I've been feeling weak for months. Years, actually. And my wolf, she can barely—"

"Your wolf is fine." He cut me off, making a note on his tablet. "What you're experiencing is psychosomatic. Stress-induced manifestations."

"Psychosomatic?" The word felt foreign on my tongue. "But the blood—"

"Can be caused by excessive coughing from anxiety. Which you clearly have in abundance." He set down his tablet and fixed me with a stern look. "Luna Claire, I'm going to be frank with you. These phantom illnesses, these dramatic displays—they're cries for attention. You're jealous of the bond between Alpha Kane and Morgan, and your mind is creating physical symptoms to justify that jealousy."

The room tilted. "No. No, that's not—"

"I'll be reporting to the Alpha that you came in with more fabricated symptoms." He stood, opening the door in clear dismissal. "Perhaps you should consider speaking with a therapist about your... issues."

I walked out in a daze, my hands still sticky with blood he refused to test.

***

My birthday dawned cold and gray.

I woke to pounding on my door. Before I could answer, it swung open. Morgan stood there, one hand pressed to her chest, her face pale and drawn.

"Claire." Her voice was breathy, weak. "I need your help."

Behind her, I could see pack members gathering in the hallway, their expressions worried. For her. Always for her.

"What's wrong?" The question came automatically, even though every instinct screamed at me to slam the door.

"My wolf—she's fading again. Badly this time." Morgan swayed, and two warriors rushed to steady her. "There's a flower. Moonflower. It grows in the northern woods, deep in the forest. It's the only thing that can stabilize her."

"The northern woods?" My mouth went dry. "Morgan, that's rogue territory. It's dangerous—"

"Which is why I can't go myself. I'm too weak." Her eyes met mine, and I saw the trap closing. "Please, Luna. As a favor. For the pack."

Kane's voice boomed from down the hall. "What's going on?"

Morgan turned to him, tears streaming down her face. "My wolf is dying, Alpha. I need Moonflower from the northern woods, but I'm too fragile to make the journey."

Kane's jaw tightened. He looked at me, and I saw the order forming before he spoke it.

"Claire will go." Not a question. A command. "I have border patrols to oversee, but you can handle gathering a flower. Consider it your contribution to the pack for once."

"Kane, it's my birthday—"

"And Morgan is dying." His eyes flashed. "Stop being selfish for one damn day."

Morgan pressed something into my hand—a roughly drawn map, the northern woods marked with an X. "Thank you, Luna," she whispered. "You're saving my life."

I looked down at the map, at the dense forest marked in the most dangerous part of our territory.

And I knew, with horrible certainty, that I was walking into another trap.

But Kane was already walking away, and the pack was watching, and I had no choice.

I had never had a choice.