On My Birthday, My Alpha Fed His Mistress

The drive to The Moonlit Steakhouse was a blur of nausea and adrenaline. My body felt like it was being twisted on a rack, my bones grinding against each other as the Shift Fever peaked. But the rage... the rage was a cold, solid thing that kept me upright.

"Val, are you sure about this?" Lilian asked, her arm wrapped tightly around my waist to support me as we stumbled out of her car. "You're burning up. You should be in bed."

"I'm exactly where I need to be," I gritted out. The cool night air did nothing to soothe the fire under my skin.

The restaurant was the crown jewel of our pack's territory—a place of mahogany wood, crystal chandeliers, and prices that made most pack members weep. Keaton had told me for months that the pack budget was too tight for date nights. He told me we had to sacrifice.

I pushed through the heavy oak doors, Lilian struggling to keep pace with my feverish stride. The maître d' stepped forward to stop us, but one look at my glowing gold eyes made him freeze and step back, his head bowing instinctively.

The scent hit me first. Rosemary, garlic, and the rich, metallic tang of rare steak. It made my stomach cramp with hunger, a stark contrast to the cold, congealed broth sitting on my nightstand back home.

I didn't have to search for them. They were seated at the best table in the house, bathed in the soft, romantic glow of a private booth near the fireplace.

Keaton looked magnificent, I had to admit. He was wearing the charcoal suit I had bought him for his inauguration as Acting Alpha. But my eyes were drawn to Scarlet. She was giggling, leaning across the table with a fork in her hand. On the end of the fork was a piece of filet mignon, dripping with juice.

"Open wide, Alpha," she cooed, her voice carrying over the low hum of conversation.

Keaton leaned in, taking the bite from her hand, his eyes locked on hers. As he chewed, he didn't pull back. Instead, he leaned further, burying his nose into the curve of her neck. He inhaled deeply, his lips brushing the sensitive skin right over her scent gland.

A collective gasp went through the nearby tables. Nuzzling like that wasn't just flirting; it was a precursor to marking. It was an intimacy strictly reserved for mates.

"Keaton," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the restaurant like a whip.

Keaton jerked back as if burned. Scarlet dropped her fork, the metal clattering loudly against the fine china.

"Valentina?" Keaton stood up, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. His expression wasn't one of guilt. It was annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here? Look at you—you're a mess."

I stood there, swaying slightly, my red dress clinging to my sweat-dampened skin. "You said you were on patrol. You said the rogues were active."

"This is pack business," Keaton snapped, puffing out his chest. "Scarlet has been... instrumental in organizing the archives. I'm rewarding her diligence."

"By nuzzling her neck?" I took a step forward, my hands balling into fists. "Is that standard protocol for assistants now?"

Keaton's eyes narrowed. He stepped around the table, putting himself between me and Scarlet. "You are hysterical, Valentina. The fever is messing with your head. You're making a scene and embarrassing me in front of the pack elders dining upstairs."

He deepened his voice, engaging his Alpha tone—a mimicry of authority he had practiced in the mirror for years. "**Submit, Valentina. Go home and wait for me.**"

The command slammed into me, designed to force my wolf to bare its throat. But instead of submission, something ancient and terrifying woke up inside my chest. My wolf didn't cower. She laughed.

*Submit to him?* she snarled in my mind. *He is nothing.*

The pressure inside me exploded outward. It wasn't a physical shift, but a wave of pure, suppressed Alpha aura.

*CRACK.*

The wine glass in Keaton's hand shattered.

Then the water glasses on their table. Then the carafe on the table next to them.

*SMASH. CRASH. TINK.*

The sound was deafening. Shards of glass rained down onto the white tablecloths. Patrons screamed and scrambled out of their chairs. The restaurant fell into a terrified silence.

Keaton stared at the bleeding cut on his palm, then at me, his eyes wide with shock. For a second, I saw fear. But it was quickly replaced by fury.

"You're unstable," he hissed, grabbing my upper arm. His grip was bruising. "Get outside. Now."

He dragged me toward the exit, his fingers digging into my flesh. Lilian tried to intervene, but Keaton shoved past her. He hauled me out onto the stone steps of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes of the pack.

"Have you lost your mind?" Keaton shouted, releasing me so hard I stumbled. "You could have hurt someone! This is exactly why you aren't ready to be Luna. You can't control yourself!"

"I can't control myself?" I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "You're cheating on me on my birthday, Keaton!"

The heavy door opened behind us. Scarlet stepped out, looking perfectly composed. She stopped beside Keaton, placing a possessive hand on his forearm. She looked at me with a pity that made my blood boil.

"Oh, Miss Valentina," she sighed, shaking her head. "You really shouldn't be out in this condition. You look... contagious."

She took a step down the stairs, lifting the hem of her silk dress to avoid a puddle. The movement was deliberate. As the fabric rose, the light from the streetlamp caught the glint of silver around her ankle.

Time stopped.

It was a delicate chain of woven silver, adorned with a single charm: a crescent moon intertwined with a wolfsbane flower.

My breath hitched in my throat. That wasn't just jewelry. That was *my* grandmother's anklet. A Royal Lycan heirloom passed down through three generations of Bishop women. It had gone missing from my jewelry box two weeks ago. Keaton had told me I probably misplaced it because I was "clumsy."

"Where did you get that?" I whispered, pointing a trembling finger at her ankle.

Scarlet looked down, feigning surprise. She wiggled her foot, letting the silver catch the light again. "Oh, this? It was a gift. Alpha Keaton gave it to me just tonight. A little token of appreciation for all my... hard work."

She looked up at me, a smirk playing on her lips that Keaton couldn't see.

"He said it was too elegant for someone who spends all day in bed," she added softly.

I looked at Keaton. He didn't deny it. He didn't even look ashamed. He just crossed his arms, shielding his mistress and the stolen heirloom.

"It was collecting dust, Val," he said coldly. "At least Scarlet wears it well."

The last tether of my restraint snapped. The fever didn't matter anymore. The pain didn't matter. The only thing that existed was the absolute, crystal-clear realization that I was going to burn his entire world to the ground.