The Lycan Alpha's Forgotten Mate

Dimitri POV

The mourning ceremony was a blur of black veils and hollow condolences, but my mind was miles away, locked in the cold silence of my private study.

The revelation of the silver poisoning had planted a seed of madness in my brain. Murder. My father had been murdered, and somehow, my memory loss was the key.

I poured a glass of whiskey but didn't drink it. Instead, I stared into the amber liquid, forcing my mind back to the night before I woke up in that bed with the girl. The fog in my head was thick, unnatural.

Think, Dimitri.

A flash of memory pierced through. My father's private quarters. The fire crackling. He had handed me a crystal goblet.

"Drink, my son," Grafton had said, his voice raspy but firm. "It is holy water from the Moon Goddess's spring. To strengthen the bloodline. To prepare you."

His eyes... they hadn't been proud. They had been apologetic.

I slammed the whiskey glass down, shattering it. The shards bit into my palm, but I didn't feel it. He had drugged me. My own father had drugged me to ensure I would... what? Sleep with a wolfless Omega?

Why? Ragnar, my inner Lycan, paced restlessly in the back of my mind. Pack. Protection. Mate.

"Lies," I hissed.

I needed proof.

I waited until the moon was high and the Pack House was silent with grief. The door to my father's study was sealed with the Elders' yellow tape, forbidden to everyone until the official reading of the will.

I didn't care. I ripped the tape and kicked the door open.

The room smelled like him—aged oak, tobacco, and the underlying metallic tang of the sickness that took him. I tore through his desk, tossing papers aside, until my fingers brushed against a uneven seam in the wood of the bottom drawer. A hidden compartment.

I pried it open with my claws. Inside lay a single scroll made of ancient beast skin, pulsing with a faint, silver light.

I unrolled it, and the air left my lungs.

Sacred Bonding Contract.

The words seemed to burn into my retinas. It was a binding magical agreement, detailing the union of Dimitri Barrett and Anais Moreno. And there, at the bottom, was the jagged, unmistakable signature of Alpha Grafton Barrett, witnessed by the High Elder.

"You planned this," I whispered to the empty room, my voice trembling with a rage so cold it felt like ice. "You sold me. You sold your own son to a wolfless nobody."

I looked at the moonstone ring on my finger—the one I couldn't take off. It wasn't an accident. It was a shackle.

A growl ripped from my throat. I grabbed the parchment, intending to shred it, to burn it, to reject this insanity right here and now.

"I, Dimitri Barrett, reject—"

The words died in my throat. The scroll flared with blinding white light, burning my fingertips. Runes of the Moon Goddess surfaced on the skin, glowing with absolute power.

Protected. The magic whispered in my mind. Irrevocable for one full cycle of the seasons.

I threw the scroll across the room. It hit the wall and rolled shut, mocking me. I couldn't reject her. Not yet.

If I couldn't break the bond, I would break the person who helped tie the knot.

"Bring the Omega girl to the cells. Now." I projected the order through the Mind-Link, my voice booming like thunder in the heads of my warriors.

The dungeons were cold, smelling of rust and old misery.

Anais was strapped to a wooden chair in the center of the interrogation cell. She looked small, pathetic in the harsh light of the torches. Her grey dress was torn, and she was shivering violently.

When I stepped in, the air pressure in the room dropped. My Lycan aura flooded the space, heavy and suffocating.

"D-Dimitri?" she squeaked, her eyes wide with terror.

Ragnar let out a low whine. Mate. Hurt. No.

I shoved the beast down. "That is Alpha to you."

I stalked forward, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at me. Her skin was soft, and a spark of electricity—that damned mate bond—zapped my fingers. I ignored it, leaning in until our noses almost touched.

"Who are you working for?" I snarled, letting the Alpha's Command lace my voice. It wasn't a question; it was a compulsion.

Anais gasped, her pupils dilating as the Command hit her. She tried to pull away, tears spilling over her cheeks. "No one! I don't know what you're talking about!"

"My father is dead," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "He drugged me. He bound me to you with a contract that predates our meeting. You expect me to believe a wolfless Omega just happened to be the beneficiary of the Alpha's greatest betrayal?"

"I don't know!" she screamed, sobbing. "I don't remember anything! I was with my friends... we went to the bar... that's all!"

"What friends?" I tightened my grip on her jaw.

"Ayesha... and Michael," she choked out. "Please... you're hurting me."

Ragnar roared in my head, clawing at my skull. Stop! She is ours!

I released her as if she were burning me. She slumped back against the chair, weeping brokenly.

She was either the greatest actress I had ever seen, or she was truly a pawn. But pawns could still be used to topple kings.

I turned my back on her, walking toward the iron door.

"Rot here until your memory returns," I threw over my shoulder.

"Dimitri, please!" she wailed.

I slammed the heavy door, cutting off her voice, but not her scent. It clung to me, mint and fear, maddeningly addictive.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my Gamma.

"Find Ayesha and Michael," I ordered, staring at the stone wall. "Bring them to me. If she won't talk, maybe her friends will bleed the truth for her."