The Alpha Impregnated His Mistress, I Left the Pack

Rhea’s POV

“I am ready to accept the Moonstone. I will return to the Great Pack and become the heiress,” I spoke through the mindlink. I felt the connection snap shut, leaving only silence in my head.

I looked around the cold stone bedroom where I had lived for eight years. A sad smile touched my lips. Eight years of hard work, eight years of being patient, and eight years of loving a man and a child who didn't want me. I had nothing to show for it but scars.

“How dare you wear my mother’s clothes!” a sharp voice screamed behind me.

I sighed and turned to see Marc. His face was red with anger.

“Are you not going to say anything, you silent thief?” he barked at me.

“Go to the pack feast, Marc,” I said softly. “I am sure your friends are waiting to celebrate your birthday.”

“No!” he yelled. He grabbed a heavy clay jug of hot herbal tea from the table and threw the liquid right at my chest.

I screamed as the heat bit into my skin. I had just brewed it, and it was still steaming.

“Yes! That is what you get!” Marc snapped, his eyes full of hate. “You can never replace my mother. You killed her with your wicked heart, and now you are wearing her favorite dress!”

An old maid rushed into the room. She gasped when she saw me covered in tea, my skin turning red and starting to blister.

“I am so sorry, Lady Rhea! Marc ran away from the group. I will take him away now,” the maid whispered. She hurried out, pulling Marc with her. As he left, I saw him smiling.

I stepped into the washroom to clean the burns. The dress didn't even belong to Via, his late mother. She was my step-sister who died giving birth to him.

Eight years ago, I was supposed to mate with Malachi Valmont. He was my childhood love. I believed our souls were bonded by the Moon Goddess until the world fell apart. He chose my step-sister instead. Suddenly, she was the one carrying his pup and living the life that was promised to me.

But Via died. The pack called me a curse. They said I was jealous and that my dark thoughts killed her. Because I was her sister, they made me stay to care for Marc. My step-mother told me I must love him like my own blood.

And for eight years, I did. I loved Marc like a son. I cared for Malachi’s every need. But I was a fool. Malachi never loved me. All these years, he and Marc treated me like trash. They made sure I knew I was just a lowly concubine in this house.

Marc never respected me. He spent every day finding new ways to hurt my wolf. I had already decided that today, on Marc’s eighth year of life, I would leave this pack forever.

If Marc had thrown hot tea on me three years ago, I would have begged for his forgiveness. I would have tried to make him happy. But I am finished.

The funny thing is, this dress was never Via’s favorite. She never even wore it. This was my dress, a gift from my own mother before she passed. Via stole it from me, just like she stole everything else in my life.

“The feast is starting. Where are you, Rhea?” Malachi’s deep voice echoed outside the room.

I dried myself and walked out just as he stepped inside. He saw my stained dress and the red marks on my skin and sighed.

“I heard what Marc did. Do not think about it too much. He is just a pup, and I know he loves you,” Malachi said.

I let out a cold laugh. “That child does not know the first thing about love.”

Malachi’s face darkened. “Do not talk like that. He is a good boy.”

I moved away from him and grabbed a small jar of healing balm. I began to rub the cool cream onto my burns. My skin was swollen, but this pack medicine would heal the marks by morning.

“Let me help,” Malachi said. He took the jar from me without asking.

His fingers moved in circles over my skin. A few years ago, his touch would have made me feel weak with love. Now, it just made me want to pull away.

“Be patient with him,” he whispered, his breath warm against my neck.

I stepped back, breaking his hold. “I have something to tell you, Malachi.”

He looked annoyed. “Can it not wait? Marc’s birthday hunt is starting.”

“No, it cannot,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Today is the eighth year. I am leaving. I am never coming back.”