The Lycan Alpha's Forgotten Mate

Dimitri POV

Five days. That was how long the silence had lasted in the Alpha Wing, but outside these stone walls, the noise was beginning to rise.

I sat in my private study, the air heavy with the scent of cedar and old parchment. The map of the Blackwood territory hung on the wall, pins marking the borders, but my eyes were fixed on the door. My hearing, sharpened by Ragnar, picked up the rapid, agitated heartbeat of my Beta before he even knocked.

"Enter," I commanded, my voice rough like gravel.

Davon slipped inside, closing the heavy oak door with a decisive click. He didn't bow; he stood rigid, his jaw set in a line of grim determination.

"Speak, Davon. You smell like anxiety."

"It's the Pack, Alpha," Davon said, stepping forward. "Whispers. They started in the lower quarters but have bled into the warrior barracks."

I leaned back in my leather chair, the wood creaking under my weight. "Whispers about the mercenaries?"

"No," Davon hesitated, his eyes flicking to the floor before meeting mine. "About you. And her."

Ragnar paced in the cage of my mind, a low growl vibrating in my chest. They dare speak of our Mate?

"They are saying..." Davon swallowed hard. "They are saying your ascension was... unnatural. That you have bound yourself to a 'wolfless Omega' not out of fate, but out of a curse. The rumor is that her lack of a wolf weakens the Pack's spiritual connection to the Moon Goddess. They say you are compromising our strength for a... pet."

The fountain pen in my hand didn't snap this time; I set it down with deliberate, terrifying slowness.

This wasn't idle gossip. This was poison. It was a calculated strike at the foundation of my authority, timed perfectly when I was distracted by grief and investigation.

Kill them, Ragnar roared, his bloodlust spiking. Tear out their throats.

I silenced him with a thought. Violence was easy; politics was the true war.

"A wolfless Omega," I repeated, my voice dropping to a temperature that frosted the air between us. "Someone is weaponizing her tragedy to question my crown."

"The Elders are already asking for a council meeting," Davon added quietly.

I stood up, towering over the desk. My shadow engulfed the room. "Let them ask. But first, cut off the head of the snake." I walked to the window, looking out at the sprawling estate that was now a battlefield. "Find the source, Davon. I want the name of the first wolf who spoke this lie. I don't care if it was a maid or a Gamma. Bring them to me."

"Consider it done, Alpha."

Beatrice POV

My private wing was a sanctuary of silk and imported perfume, a stark contrast to the barbaric stone and leather that dominated the rest of the Pack House. Here, the air smelled of lavender and secrets.

I watched my daughter, Cassidy, admiring herself in the gilded mirror. She was twirling a diamond necklace—a pittance from her father's will—around her finger, humming a tune. She was beautiful, yes, but painfully simple. She had her father's eyes but none of his ruthlessness.

"You seem content, darling," I said, sipping my tea. "Picking through the crumbs Dimitri left for you."

Cassidy stopped twirling the necklace, frowning. "It's not crumbs, Mother. It's a generous allowance. And Dimitri is Alpha now. It's the law."

"The law," I scoffed, setting the china cup down with a sharp clatter. "Written by men who would see us destitute."

I patted the velvet cushion beside me. "Come here, Cassidy. It is time you stopped living in a fairy tale."

She sat, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

I took her soft hands in mine, my expression shifting to one of tragic burden. "Do you truly believe Grafton would leave his empire to him? To a boy who shares none of our fire?"

"Dimitri is his son..."

"Is he?" I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, the kind that snakes into the ear and rots the brain. "Grafton brought him home when he was an infant, claiming he was his. But I saw the truth in Grafton's eyes every time he looked at the boy. Fear."

Cassidy's face went pale. "Mother, what are you saying?"

"He is a cuckoo in our nest, my love," I hissed, squeezing her hands tight enough to hurt. "A bastard stray Grafton took in out of pity, or perhaps blackmail. And now? Now this usurper has brought his wolfless trash to be our Luna. A weak, broken thing to breed weak, broken heirs."

I leaned closer, my eyes boring into hers. "He knows he doesn't belong. That is why he pushes us aside. Soon, he will cast us out—Grafton's true blood—to make way for his own dynasty of mongrels. Do you want to lose your home to a girl who can't even Shift?"

Cassidy pulled back, her breath hitching. The doubt I planted bloomed instantly into fear, and then, predictably, into anger. The thought of losing her status, her home, to an outsider was more than her vanity could bear.

"He... he wouldn't," she stammered, but her eyes were hardening.

"He already is," I lied smoothly. "We must be smart, Cassidy. We must smile, and bow, and wait for your brother Bryson to return. We will take back what is ours."

Cassidy looked at me, the innocence gone, replaced by a cold resolve that finally made her look like my daughter.

"I won't let him take this house," she whispered. "I hate him."

I smiled, stroking her hair. "Good girl."