My Mate Watched Me Get Beaten by His Mistress

Declan Marsh didn't knock like a guest. He knocked like a soldier.

I sat in the armchair by the window of my room, staring out at the Silverfang training grounds. My ribs still throbbed with a dull, constant ache. August stood near the fireplace, drinking his coffee black. When Declan entered, the air in the room shifted. August’s personal Beta didn't waste time on small talk. He walked straight to his Prince and handed over a thin manila folder.

"I tracked the medallion," Declan said. His voice was flat and entirely professional.

I stopped breathing. My hand instantly flew to my bare collarbone.

August opened the folder. His dark eyes scanned the papers. "Where is it?"

"Currently secured in a biometric vault inside the Black Moon Pack compound. Alpha Saanvi's personal safe," Declan replied. He paused, glancing at me for a split second before looking back at August. "But Corey Watkins didn't give it to her directly. At least, not at first. He used a black-market relic dealer in the southern sector as an intermediary to appraise its value and clean the bloodline trace."

I frowned, pushing myself up from the chair. "When?"

Declan looked at a printed receipt in the folder. "The transaction is timestamped. Three months ago."

Three months.

The words hit me like a physical blow. The rotting mate bond in my chest flared, leaking a fresh wave of dark poison into my veins. For weeks, I had told myself Corey made a sudden, stupid mistake. I thought Saanvi cornered him, tempted him, and he cracked under the pressure of a dominant Alpha.

But three months meant premeditation. He had taken my grandfather's sacred crest, looked me in the eye, kissed my forehead, and then walked to a black-market dealer to trade my family's legacy for a place in Saanvi's bed.

August closed the folder with a sharp snap. His jaw tightened—just a single, hard flex of muscle. He saw the color drain from my face. The scent of dark cedar and thunderstorm rain spiked in the room, heavy and protective.

"File a formal tribunal order for its immediate recovery," August commanded softly. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "Add it to the assault charges. Theft of a bloodline relic."

Declan nodded once and left the room. I sank back into my chair, staring at the floor. I didn't cry. The ice in my stomach just grew thicker.

Later that afternoon, the stench of cheap cologne drifted up the main staircase.

I froze on the top step. I knew that smell anywhere. It was the cologne Corey used to mask Saanvi's scent on his skin. I crept silently down the hall toward my father’s office. The heavy oak doors were cracked open just an inch.

Corey stood in the center of the room. He looked awful. His hair was a mess, and dark circles bagged under his eyes. He was pacing nervously in front of my father's massive wooden desk.

"Alpha Gerald, you have to listen to me," Corey pleaded. His voice dripped with practiced charm, but it cracked with desperation. "The screenshots... they were manipulated. Deepfakes. Saanvi coerced me into that hotel room. I had no choice! She’s a reigning Alpha. She threatened my life!"

I gripped the wooden banister. He was still lying. Even now, with his entire double life exposed, he was playing the victim.

My father sat behind his desk like a statue. Alpha Gerald didn't yell. He didn't argue. He just stared at Corey with a look of absolute, chilling disgust. The silence in the office was heavier than a shout. It was the pure, suffocating weight of an Alpha's judgment.

Corey swallowed hard. He took a step forward. "Alpha, please. Blakely is my fated mate. I love her. I would never—"

My father raised one large hand. He pointed a single finger toward the door.

Two Silverfang enforcers stepped out from the corners of the office. They grabbed Corey by his arms. Corey thrashed, his eyes wide with panic. "Wait! You don't understand the full picture! Alpha!"

They dragged him out of the office and pulled him through the foyer. I stayed hidden in the shadows of the landing, watching him.

As Corey was shoved out the front doors, I noticed something pathetic. His aura was fading. The bright, energetic light of a pack warrior was gone. It was being replaced by a sickly, dull gray. Several Silverfang warriors were standing on the porch. When Corey looked at them, begging for help, they turned their backs to him. No one met his gaze.

He was shrinking. The pack was shunning him, and his inner wolf was dying from the isolation.

I didn't feel sorry for him. I turned around and walked straight to my grandfather's old study.

I locked the door and pulled out the old pack intelligence files. My grandfather was a legend because he knew how to track prey. He taught me that every predator has a blind spot. For hours, I sat on the floor, surrounded by maps, financial reports, and territorial logs. I ignored the dull ache in my ribs. I dug deep into the Black Moon Pack's history.

Saanvi was powerful, but she had a weak link. I just had to find it.

By midnight, I found a name buried in a grievance report.

Sam Vargas.

Saanvi's publicly rejected fated mate. She had humiliated him in front of their entire pack to prove she didn't need a man to rule. But Sam hadn't left. According to the intelligence logs, he was still inside the Black Moon compound. And he wasn't just sitting around. He was quietly meeting with disloyal Betas. He was building a case against her from the inside.

A soft knock broke my concentration. The door opened, and August stepped in.

He wore dark sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. He carried two mugs of steaming black coffee. The scent of cedar and rain washed over me, instantly easing the tension in my shoulders. He looked at the mess of papers on the floor, then looked at me.

"You should be resting," he said quietly.

"I found our way in," I replied. I didn't whisper. My voice was steady and clear.

I pushed a file across the rug toward him. August set the mugs on the desk and crouched down beside me. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his massive frame. He looked at the name on the file.

"Sam Vargas," I said. "Saanvi's rejected mate. He has internal pack leverage. If we want to destroy her at the tribunal, we need someone on the inside to corroborate the evidence. We need to approach him."

August went perfectly still.

He slowly lifted his eyes from the paper. The dark brown of his irises burned away, replaced by a brilliant, glowing gold. He stared at me. He didn't look at me like I was a broken she-wolf who needed saving. He looked at me like I was a queen holding a bloody sword.

His jaw flexed. A faint, almost invisible tremor shook his fingers as he reached out and tapped the file.

"I spent the last three hours trying to figure out how to tell you this exact plan," August murmured. His voice was a rough, vibrating purr. "I had Declan pull Sam's file this morning. I was going to suggest him tomorrow."

He leaned in just a fraction of an inch. His golden eyes locked onto mine. "You beat me to it, Blakely."

The way he said my name sent a hot shiver straight down my spine. It wasn't pity. It was pure, unadulterated respect. The rotting bond in my chest actually went numb for a second, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his presence.

"Can you get to him?" I asked, my voice suddenly breathless.

August didn't look away. "I'll arrange the meeting. Neutral territory. Tomorrow night."