My sister's mate became mine after they stole my core

The moment our vows were exchanged, Dean gave a satisfied nod and immediately reached for his phone. “Come to my office,” he said curtly into the receiver. Within moments, a woman entered—a poised, slightly older lady with steel in her posture and lines of experience on her face. She couldn’t have been younger than her forties. She bowed slightly, eyes trained on her Alpha, waiting for instruction.

“You’ll escort her to the former Luna’s chamber,” Dean ordered without looking at me. “I assume you’ve already heard the news.”

The woman nodded. “I have, Dean. Though I must say… I was quite surprised.”

Surprised? By what, exactly?

She flicked a glance in my direction—quick, but sharp—and then returned her gaze to Dean. “Given that you rejected Tessa, I didn’t expect this.”

Tessa? I turned to Dean instinctively, surprise etching itself across my face. He tapped his fingers against his desk rhythmically, a clear sign that the conversation was closed. He didn’t want to talk about it. Oh so Bianca was a second chanced mate, how ironic.

The woman shifted her eyes to me, offering a stiff smile. “Please, this way… Luna. And by the way, my name is Taya.”

Something in her voice told me she didn’t mean the title sincerely.

Still, I returned her introduction with polite warmth. “Becca Wilson. It’s nice to meet you.”

She gave a half-hearted nod and turned, walking ahead of me. I followed, but not before casting one last glance at Dean. He wasn’t as unreadable as he thought—because I caught him staring. The moment our eyes met, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his desk.

So… he’d rejected someone. Someone named Tessa. The so-called fated mate, maybe? I made a mental note to ask Taya. Something told me the story behind it was more than a passing detail.

We arrived at a grand, dimly lit chamber. Taya was already turning to leave without a word, her posture rigid, disapproval practically radiating from her.

“How charming,” I muttered under my breath, then spoke louder. “I’d like to ask you something.”

She paused with a quiet sigh, glancing at me over her shoulder with tired, uninterested eyes. But I was used to colder stares than hers. Nothing rattled me anymore. I’d survived betrayal, humiliation, heartbreak—this was just another day.

“Yes?” she said, voice clipped.

“What did you mean earlier? About rejection? Who exactly did he reject?”

Taya’s expression shifted, her lips tightening with restraint. Her eyes narrowed just enough to show contempt. “He rejected the one woman the Moon Goddess chose for him. The one he was destined for.”

Her voice was coated with judgment, like I had stolen something sacred.

I raised an eyebrow. “Was there a reason?”

She bowed abruptly, cutting me off. “I’m afraid I have duties to attend to.” but even as she says that she didn't move but kept staring at me.

I smirked, unimpressed. “You’re still standing there?” I say to her without looking at her.

That made her bristle. But she didn’t argue. She simply turned on her heel and finally left, the door shutting behind her.

So, the staff already had opinions about me. That didn’t bother me. I wasn’t the naive, soft-spoken girl I used to be. The Becca of yesterday had died the day her mate betrayed her. The woman who stood in her place now had steel in her spine and fire in her veins.

From now on, I’d treat people exactly as they treated me.

Sighing, I sank into the plush sofa in the center of the room. The silence was calming. My thoughts wandered—what would my wedding night look like? Would Dean come to claim his part of the bargain so soon?

Not that it would be my first time. My thoughts drifted back to Mark. He had been gentle with me once. Sweet. I remembered how he’d kissed my temple and whispered he’d love me forever. Then the image twisted—him on top of her. My sister. His moans, her cries. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing that ever mattered.

I clenched my fists. So much for forever.

Exhausted, I leaned back. I needed sleep.

I woke to the heavy scent of smoke— and his scent—and then I opened my eyes to find Dean lounging in the armchair across from me, a cigar in hand. My eyes widened when I realized he was completely naked, legs parted like he owned every inch of the room.

“What the hell—!” I bolted upright.

Dean exhaled a lazy puff of smoke. “Good. You’re awake. Don’t tell me you forgot—you’ve got nightly duties to perform.”

My jaw dropped. “Would it kill you to wear some damn underwear?”

He chuckled, smirking. “You better get used to this, Becca. This is your new normal.”

I turned my face away, refusing to let my eyes wander again over his sexy body. But it was already too late—my traitorous body was aware of every sculpted inch of him.

“At least let me take a bath,” I muttered, rising to my feet.

He stood too, blocking my path. His… manhood dangling in the air, he was big. I gasped, taking a shaky step back as he moved closer to me.

“That won’t be necessary. You’re better this way,” he said, tossing the cigar aside. His voice lowered as he stepped closer. “Am sure you know what to do.”

I started to strip but then I hesitated "Wait… don’t tell me—is this your first…?" he asked, pausing mid-sentence.

I shook my head. “No. It’s not my first time, but… I have a scar. A big one. Across my chest.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I see. That’s where the core usually resides.” His voice lost any trace of softness as he continued, “Just undress. I don’t care about the scar.”

When I glanced down again, the proof of his interest was clear—he was no longer just dangling. He was hard… and getting harder. I knew that wouldn’t last once he saw what was left of me.

I took a breath and stripped anyway—first my pants, then my blouse. My chest was bare, revealing the thick, jagged scar that carved across my heart. He stared, unreadable.

“Get on the bed,” he said at last.

---

The Next Morning

Dean sat in his office, knuckles white from clenching his fists. “Sybil,” he said darkly, “find out everything about my mate. And who did that to her.”

Without a word, Sybil bowed and vanished into the shadows.

Dean remained at his desk, his grey eyes burning with fury. Whoever left those scars on her... will wish they’d never been born.