The Alpha's Broken Mate Is The True Queen

Ariana POV

The biting wind of the executive terrace whipped my hair across my face, but it was nothing compared to the absolute ice in my veins. Before I could reach the far stairwell, the heavy glass door swung open. It wasn't Holden. It was my brother, Bryan. The aggressive stench of his violent liquor scent immediately suffocated the fresh air.

"Throwing a tantrum over a low-level Omega?" Bryan sneered, looking down at me with utter disdain. "You're a wolfless burden, Ariana. You can't even help Holden run the Pack. The least you could do is not cause a scene. Why can't you be more like Kylie? She's thoughtful, useful, and always puts the Pack first."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. For four years, I would have cried, begging for my brother's affection and defending my worth. Not today. I locked my hatred and despair deep within my soul, forcing my face into a mask of perfect, dead submission. I lowered my eyes.

"You're right, Bryan. I apologize," I murmured softly.

Bryan frowned. His aggressive Alpha wolf shifted uneasily beneath his skin, clearly disturbed by the absolute void where my usual desperate need for his approval used to be. It was like punching a ghost. Before he could say more, Holden burst onto the terrace, his eyes wild with a panic I now knew was just fear of losing his perfect cover.

"Ariana!" Holden gasped, wrapping his arms around me. I forced down the bile rising in my throat and subtly slipped out of his embrace as he guided me back into his office.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut. A moment later, Bree sauntered in, carrying a tray of coffee. Her cheap vanilla scent clashed sickeningly with Holden's cedar. She deliberately brushed her Morandi blue nails against Holden's palm as she set the cup down, her eyes flashing me a triumphant, provocative smirk.

I didn't scream. I just smiled thinly. "A low-level intern shouldn't be interrupting the Alpha and Luna. Know your place, Omega."

Bree stiffened. Holden quickly intervened, playing the devoted husband to perfection. He picked up a steaming mug from his desk-the bitter Healer's potion I had choked down for six months to clear the silver from my womb. "Drink your medicine, my love. For our pups."

I took the mug. Without blinking, I tipped it over, watching the dark, bitter liquid splash directly into the trash can.

Holden's jaw dropped. That potion meant everything to his 'perfect family' image.

"I'd prefer iced juice," I said coldly, meeting his shocked gaze. "And perhaps you should teach your intern some basic manners. You're far too lenient with her."

Assuming I was merely throwing a jealous fit over the Omega, Holden immediately turned his wrath on Bree to save face. "Get out and fetch the juice. Now!" he barked. Bree paled and scurried away. I looked at Holden's mask of concern, my heart turning to stone. I just needed one month. One month to gather the ironclad proof of Kylie's silver poison and execute the Rejection ritual in front of the entire Pack.

An hour later, I walked out of the Hayes Tech building. An icy rain had begun to fall, soaking through my clothes as I sat on a muddy bench by the street. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Senior Brother Finn?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly against the cold.

"Ariana?!" Finn's warm, pine-scented voice boomed through the speaker. "Are you finally ready to come back to Professor Gerhard's eVTOL lab?"

"Yes," I whispered, blinking away the rain. "But I need one month to handle some Pack business first."

"Take your time! The lab's doors are always open for our genius."

I hung up, a fragile sense of purpose taking root in my chest. Just then, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt drew my attention. A black Maybach rolled slowly past the curb. The rear window was cracked open just enough for my heightened hearing and smell to catch it.

The overwhelming, sickening blend of cedar and cheap vanilla spilled into the cold air. Inside the dimly lit cabin, I saw Bree straddling Holden's lap, their mouths locked in a desperate kiss. He was soothing his agitated Inner Wolf with his plaything, right after playing the doting husband.

The final, poisoned silver nail was driven into the coffin of our mate-bond. Deep within my soul, beneath layers of trauma and suppression, the White Wolf that had been comatose for four years let out a faint, vengeful whimper.