The Stolen Mate of the Alpha Heir

The lower cell smelled of wet stone, old blood, and wolfsbane.

My wound had been bandaged, but every breath pulled fire through my side. Worse was the silence where Rowan's warmth had lived. I curled on the straw and tried to decide which betrayal hurt more: my mother's knife or my mate's voice ordering me into chains.

Near midnight, the lock clicked.

Lyra Blackthorn slipped inside wearing a guard's cloak. Rowan's older sister had his black hair and their mother's amber eyes. She carried food, clean bandages, and a small moonstone lantern.

I pushed myself against the wall. “Come to see the fraud?”

“Come to keep my brother's mate alive.”

I stopped breathing.

Lyra knelt and peeled back my bandage. Beneath it, a faint gold symbol glowed around the wound.

“Rowan marked the dressing,” she said. “A protection seal. He never believed Helena.”

“Then why—”

“Because he trusts you. If he defended you openly, whoever planned this would change tactics. He wanted you somewhere controlled.” Her mouth twisted. “His performance was convincing enough that I nearly hit him.”

Hope hurt almost as much as despair. “Why didn't he come himself?”

“He is following the money used to buy the bond crystal. He thinks your mother is frightened of someone—or protecting someone.”

“My mother tried to murder me.”

Lyra cleaned the silver burn with gentle hands. “Elara, forgive me, but are you certain she is your mother?”

I laughed once, and it came out broken. “Look at me. I have her eyes. Her hair. Her face, only uglier.”

Lyra flinched. “You aren't ugly.”

“She told me I was every day.”

Saying it aloud opened memories I kept buried: kneeling on salt for mislabeling herbs, sleeping outside when fever made me slow, giving Helena my food because she said a plain girl should at least stay thin. I had learned surgery by watching through a cracked clinic door after she refused to teach me. I had stitched my own thigh at fifteen.

Other people had seen enough cruelty to question my blood. I had seen it all and still spent years trying to earn one soft look.

Lyra squeezed my hand. “Whatever she is, she failed you.”

After she left, I slept for perhaps an hour.

A different visitor woke me first.

Seraphine stopped outside my bars in a white cloak, untouched by dungeon damp. She had brought no guard. Moonlight made her silver eyes shine.

“You should reject him,” she said.

I forced myself upright. “If the bond is false, why would my rejection matter?”

Her lips tightened. “Rowan is confused. He has protected me since we were children. I held him when his first shift broke his bones. I trained with him, buried friends beside him, learned how to calm his wolf. You didn't do anything.”

Jealousy stabbed through me because she possessed memories I could never replace. “Then trust him to choose.”

“He cannot choose while you are inside his blood.” She came closer, and for an instant her sweet rose scent wavered. Beneath it I caught something familiar—bitter healing smoke, like Helena's clothes. “Reject him, and I may persuade the council to spare you.”

“Did anyone tell you to say that?”

Fear flashed across her face.

I understood then that Seraphine knew more than she admitted. Maybe not the whole truth, but enough to be afraid of me.

“No,” I said. “I won't reject a bond because you built your future around someone else's silence.”

Her beauty hardened. “Then exile will be the kindest thing that happens to you.”

She left before I could call the guards.

Helena came before dawn.

She wore a guard captain's face until she crossed the threshold. Then the glamour melted, revealing her pale, furious features. She carried a glass needle filled with black liquid.

I stumbled backward. “Rowan knows you lied.”

“He won't know anything.”

She lunged.

Gold light erupted from the bandage. Helena struck an invisible wall and screamed as the needle shattered in her hand. Black poison crawled over her fingers before she cut the skin away.

I pressed both hands to the seal, stunned by Rowan's hidden protection.

“Why do you hate me?” I demanded. “What did I do except be born to you?”

For one second, grief crossed Helena's face.

Then she said nothing. She gathered the broken glass and walked out.

The silence was an answer without a shape.

At sunrise, laughter echoed through the drainage tunnel at the rear of my cell. A filthy old man squeezed through an opening too small for any sane wolf to attempt. His beard held twigs. One boot was missing.

He sniffed once and froze.

“Celeste?”

“My name is Elara.”

He crawled closer. Rowan's seal flared, but did not repel him. “No. Not face. Scent under scent.” He grabbed the bars and inhaled again. “Celeste Vale. Moonwater and white roses. Beta's mate. Dead, dead, dead.”

My skin prickled. Celeste Vale had been Seraphine's mother.

“You're confused.”

“Garrick is never confused.” He frowned. “Except Tuesdays. Is it Tuesday?”

He reached through the bars and touched a loose strand of my hair. His clouded eyes cleared for one heartbeat.

“Wrong face,” he whispered. “Right blood.”

Guards shouted in the corridor. Garrick vanished into the drain, laughing about stolen cubs.

By noon, the pack assembled for judgment.

I was taken to the moon courtyard in chains. Rowan stood beside Alpha Aldric. Seraphine wore a pale-blue dress and held Rowan's arm as if it already belonged to her.

I reached instinctively for our bond.

Nothing answered.

Not a flicker. Not a thread. Not pain. The bond was gone.

“Rowan?”

He looked at me.

There was no warmth in his face. His nose wrinkled as if my scent offended him.

Seraphine smiled.

Alpha Aldric read the verdict. They lacked proof to execute me for enchanting the heir, especially while Helena remained under investigation. Instead, I would be exiled beyond Nightfang territory before sunset. If I returned, I could be killed on sight.

“I want the truth,” I said. “Question my mother under moon oath. Examine the crystal. Ask Rowan what he felt.”

Rowan's expression hardened. “I felt manipulation.”

The courtyard tilted.

Lyra stared at him. “What are you doing?”

He did not glance at her. “The exile is merciful. Remove her.”

My wolf clawed inside me, frantic for a mate who now looked through us.

As the guards pulled me away, I saw a black mark curling beneath Rowan's collar.

The same black poison Helena had carried into my cell.