Rejected by My Alpha Mate, Burned Alive for His Mistress

I finished the decree at dawn.

The Luna Renunciation Decree sat on my desk, printed on official pack letterhead, the language precise and unforgiving. I read it one last time. Then I slid it into the middle of a document stack I'd been preparing for three days.

Territory supply requisitions on top. Warrior reassignment forms next. The decree third from the bottom. A routine boundary-survey authorization on the last page, right where Landon's signature was expected.

I carried the stack to his study during the morning pack briefing. The halls were empty. I set the documents in his standard review pile, the one he always worked through after lunch. My hands were steady. I did not let myself think about what happened after he signed.

I thought only about the next hour.

Then I walked back to the Luna quarters and waited.

---

Vienna came while I was at the healer's appointment.

I didn't know she'd been there until I returned and smelled it. A foreign scent. Male. Cedar-adjacent, close enough to Landon's that my wolf stirred uneasily, but wrong in a way I couldn't immediately place.

I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, breathing slowly.

The scent was strongest near the bed. I walked to the pillow and pressed my face to it. There. Concentrated. Deliberate.

I pulled back the sheets. The scent clung to the fabric like oil. I checked the wardrobe. My dress — the one I'd been planning to wear to tonight's pack dinner — carried the same trace on the collar.

Someone had rubbed it there. On purpose.

I knelt beside the bed and looked under the mattress edge. A folded training shirt, gray and worn, tucked just far enough to be visible if you were looking.

I pulled it out. The scent hit me fully now. Delta Silas Mercer. A young warrior. Quiet. I'd spoken to him maybe twice.

I held the shirt for a long moment. Then I folded it carefully and placed it back where I'd found it.

I did not remove it. I did not wash the sheets.

I simply stood, smoothed my dress, and went to prepare for the evening briefing.

---

The briefing room was full when I arrived.

Landon stood at the head of the table, Ryder on his right, the Gamma on his left. A dozen warriors lined the walls. I took my usual seat near the door, quiet and unobtrusive.

Landon was mid-sentence when he stopped.

His head turned toward me. Slowly. His nostrils flared.

The room went very still.

He crossed the distance between us in four strides. I didn't move. He leaned down, his face inches from my neck, and inhaled.

Then he straightened.

His eyes were flat. Cold.

"Stand," he said.

I stood.

He circled me once. The warriors along the wall shifted uncomfortably. Ryder's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"Whose scent is that?" Landon's voice was quiet. Too quiet.

I opened my mouth to answer.

The Alpha tone hit me before I could speak.

It rolled out of him like a wave, crashing into my chest, pressing down on my wolf until she flattened inside me. My knees buckled. I hit the stone floor hard, the impact jarring through my still-healing ribs.

Pain flared white behind my eyes. I gasped.

"You are a disgrace," Landon said. His voice filled the room. Absolute. Unshakeable. "You wear another male's scent in front of your Alpha. In front of your pack."

I tried to speak. My jaw locked. The bond forced my mouth shut, my wolf whimpering uselessly under the weight of his command.

Ryder looked at the wall. The Gamma stared at his boots. No one moved.

"You dishonor the mate bond," Landon continued. He was standing over me now, his shadow falling across my kneeling form. "You dishonor this pack. You dishonor me."

I kept my face level. I did not beg. I did not cry.

I simply knelt there, my cracked ribs screaming, my wolf silent and broken, and counted the seconds until he was finished.

When he finally released the Alpha tone, the absence of it felt like air rushing back into a vacuum. I stayed on my knees. My legs wouldn't hold me yet.

Landon turned away. "Get her out of my sight."

Ryder moved forward, his hand hovering near my elbow but not quite touching. "Luna," he said quietly. "Let me—"

"I can walk," I said.

My voice came out steady. Flat. I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the way my ribs protested, and walked out of the briefing room with my head up.

Behind me, the room remained silent.

---

I returned to the Luna quarters and closed the door.

I did not sit. I did not cry. I walked to the window and looked out at the pack grounds, at the warriors moving through their drills, at the life continuing as though nothing had happened.

My wolf made no sound.

I pressed my hand to the glass. It was cold.

Somewhere in the pack house, Landon was signing documents. Routine paperwork. Supply requisitions. Warrior reassignments.

And third from the bottom, a decree that would sever everything.

I closed my eyes and waited for the ink to dry.