My Mate Watched Me Get Beaten by His Mistress

The first thing I felt was the sharp, stabbing pain in my chest.

I opened my eyes to a blinding white ceiling. The steady, annoying beep of a heart monitor echoed in my ears. I tried to take a deep breath, but my ribs screamed in protest. They were bound tight with thick medical tape. My face felt hot, heavy, and swollen.

I closed my eyes and reached inward. I searched for my inner wolf. I needed her warmth. I needed her strength.

I found nothing but silence.

For the first time since my shift, my wolf was completely silent. She was buried deep down, suffocating under the heavy, toxic sludge of a rotting mate bond. The connection I shared with Corey used to feel like a warm string of light. Now, it felt like a poisoned vein inside my chest. It leaked a dark, spiritual agony into my bones.

"Blakely."

The voice was rough and thick. I turned my head slowly. My father, Alpha Gerald, sat in a plastic chair beside my bed. He looked like he had aged ten years in a single night. His broad shoulders were hunched. His large hands were clenched so tightly on his knees that his knuckles were pure white.

His Alpha aura filled the small hospital room. It was a jagged, angry cloud of dominance and fury.

"Dad," I whispered. My throat was dry and scratchy.

"Don't try to speak," he said softly. He leaned forward, his eyes bloodshot. "The healers say you have three broken ribs. Your collarbone is fractured. Your face..." He stopped. His jaw clenched hard.

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. "Did you get him? Did you arrest Corey?"

My father looked away. The heavy, angry aura around him suddenly felt weak. "I can't. Not yet."

I stared at him. "Why?"

"Because of pack law," he said bitterly. He ran a hand over his tired face. "The hotel is on neutral territory. And Saanvi Vargas gave the direct order to her enforcers. She is a reigning Alpha, Blakely. If I cross the border and drag her out, or if I touch her kept wolf, it's an act of war. We need to call a formal tribunal."

He paused, and the helplessness in his eyes broke my heart. "And right now, the Silverfang Pack does not have the political leverage to force a summit against the Black Moon Pack. She has too many allies. If I push this without tribunal authority, I put our entire pack at risk."

He was an Alpha. A king to our people. But he was completely paralyzed by red tape and territory lines.

I looked back up at the ceiling. I waited for the tears to come. I thought I would sob. I thought the betrayal would break me into a million crying pieces. I had given Corey everything. My money, my status, my grandfather's sacred medallion. And he had stood perfectly still while another woman's guards beat me half to death.

But the tears didn't come.

Instead, a cold, hard block of ice formed in my stomach. The warm, loving she-wolf who had begged her father to promote a low-ranking mate was gone. My grief burned away in the sterile hospital air. It left behind something sharp. Something purposeful.

I made a silent vow right then and there. I would make them pay. Both of them.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors of my hospital room swung open.

I thought it was a healer coming to check my vitals. But the air in the room changed instantly. The harsh smell of bleach and medicine vanished. It was replaced by a scent so powerful, so overwhelming, that my breath hitched in my throat.

Dark cedar. And thunderstorm rain.

Every nerve in my battered body ignited. My skin prickled. The hairs on my arms stood straight up. Deep inside the dark, empty cave of my soul, my silent wolf twitched.

A man stepped into the room. He was tall, with broad shoulders that seemed to block out the hallway light. He wore a sharp, tailored black suit, but he didn't look like a politician. He looked like a lethal predator forced into human clothes.

My father stood up immediately. His angry, dominant Alpha aura shrank back. He lowered his head, submitting instantly to the newcomer.

Alphas didn't submit to anyone. Unless it was a Lycan.

"Prince August," my father said respectfully.

August Knight. The unmated Lycan Prince of the Eastern Territories. He was here. The anonymous mind-link broadcast must have crossed into Lycan-monitored channels, triggering a royal protocol inquiry.

August didn't look at my father. He stopped dead in the middle of the room.

He froze completely.

I watched his chest expand as he inhaled sharply. His nostrils flared. He was pulling in my scent. *Wild honeysuckle and morning frost.*

Something massive shifted in his face. The cold, unreadable mask of a royal diplomat cracked wide open. He looked at me. He looked at my swollen face, the dark purple bruises on my neck, and the tight bandages around my ribs.

His eyes flashed. The dark brown color vanished, replaced instantly by a brilliant, burning gold.

The air in the room grew impossibly heavy. It was hard to breathe. The raw, terrifying power radiating from him was enough to make an entire pack drop to their knees. But the power wasn't pressing down on me. It was wrapping around my bed like a thick, protective shield.

His hands were clenched tightly at his sides. I saw his knuckles turn white. I saw a slight, visible tremor in his long fingers as he fought to control himself.

He didn't say the word aloud. He didn't have to. I could feel it buzzing in the heavy silence. I could see it in the golden fire of his eyes. He had been looking for that scent for years.

*Mate.*

My father shifted uncomfortably. "Your Highness. This is a pack matter. The broadcast was unfortunate, but we are handling—"

"The broadcast crossed into my channels," August interrupted. His voice was low. It was a quiet, dangerous rumble that vibrated right through the floorboards and into my bones. He still didn't look away from me. "That makes it my matter."

He walked toward my bed. Every step was deliberate and heavy.

"Leave us, Alpha Gerald," August ordered softly.

My father hesitated. He was a proud man. But the golden eyes of the Lycan Prince left no room for argument. "Yes, Your Highness."

The door clicked shut. We were alone.

August stood by my bed for a long moment. He looked at the bruises on my collarbone, right where my grandfather's medallion used to rest. His jaw tightened once. Just a single, dangerous flex of muscle.

He pulled the plastic chair closer to the bed and sat down. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his large body. The smell of cedar and rain wrapped around me, soothing the dull ache of my broken ribs.

He looked directly into my eyes. The gold slowly faded back to a dark, intense brown.

"Tell me everything," he said.