When My Mate Chose His Mistress

Three years. I had waited three years for this day.

I am Layla Pierce, a she-wolf of the Moonveil Pack. I carry a rare and ancient bloodline. But standing in the grand fitting room of the Black Moon Pack house, I was just a female waiting for her future to begin. I was supposed to become Luna.

Conrad Black, the powerful Alpha of this pack, is my fated mate. The Moon Goddess tied our souls together. When his pack was nearly destroyed by a rogue siege, I gave him my pack's warriors. I used my bloodline alliances to save his territory. I secretly fed my own corrupt father false information just to protect Conrad's borders. I made myself a pawn for him. In return, he gave me three years of cold stares and suspicion.

He thought my quiet survival tactics were manipulative. He called me venomous. But still, the Luna Ceremony was finally here. I thought my patience had finally won. I thought my unconditional love would finally be enough.

I touched the silver mate mark on my neck. It was a nervous habit I couldn't break. My fingertips traced the raised scar.

"Mrs. Gable?" I called out softly.

The pack's head seamstress walked into the room. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Her hands trembled as she pulled the white garment bag down from the high hook. She unzipped it slowly, revealing the sacred Luna Ceremony gown. It was breathtaking. Layers of pure white silk and intricate lace sparkled under the crystal chandelier.

I smiled and stepped closer. But as I looked at the bodice, my smile faded. The waist was taken in far too much. The hem was much too short. The shoulders were narrow.

"Mrs. Gable, these aren't my measurements," I said gently. I didn't want to scold her. She was a sweet older woman. "Did you mix up the dresses?"

The woman swallowed hard. She clutched her yellow measuring tape against her chest. "No, Miss Layla. I didn't mix them up."

"Then why is it so small?"

A heavy silence filled the room. The air suddenly felt thin. My chest tightened. I hated small, tense spaces. It triggered my claustrophobia. It reminded me of the pitch-black rogue den my father left me in when I was eight years old.

"Alpha Conrad came to see me yesterday," Mrs. Gable whispered. A tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek, dropping onto her collar. "He ordered the alterations himself. He gave me the new measurements."

My heart skipped a beat. A cold dread pooled in my stomach. "Whose measurements?"

She looked down at the floorboards. "Miss Elsie Parker."

The name hit me like a physical blow. Elsie Parker. She was a newly awakened she-wolf visiting from a small southern pack. Conrad met her last month at a regional summit. He was instantly drawn to her. He said he liked her innocent charm. He said she smelled like vanilla and sunshine.

I took a step back. The mate bond inside my chest snapped tight, pulling and burning like a hot wire. He was replacing me. He was giving the sacred Luna gown to a chosen mate. And he didn't even have the decency to reject me first.

He was going to humiliate me in front of everyone.

"I see," I whispered. My voice cracked.

I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I didn't shatter the mirrors. I just turned around and walked out of the fitting room.

I needed air. I pushed through the heavy oak doors of the pack house and stumbled out into the cool spring night. The wind whipped my hair across my face. I pressed my fingers hard against my mate mark, trying to soothe the burning pain beneath my skin. It didn't work. The agony wasn't on my skin. It was deep in my soul.

I walked blindly. My feet crunched on the gravel path leading toward the guest cabins. I didn't mean to go there. But my wolf was restless. She was whining in pain, pulling me toward the faint scent of my mate.

I stopped in the shadows of a large oak tree. Warm yellow lamplight spilled from the window of a small log cabin. It was Elsie's cabin.

I held my breath and looked through the glass. I knew I shouldn't look. I knew it would only hurt me more. But I couldn't stop myself.

Elsie was sitting on the fluffy rug by the fireplace. She wore a soft pink sweater, her hair falling over her shoulders in loose, perfect waves. She was smiling. She looked so carefree. So unburdened. She looked like a girl who had never had to fight for her life.

Then, a large shadow moved across the wooden floor. My breath caught in my throat.

It was Buster.

Buster was a massive wolf-dog hybrid. Conrad and I found him abandoned in the woods two years ago. He was starving and terrified. We fed him from our hands. We raised him together. I gave him the name Buster because it made Conrad laugh. It was the only time I ever heard Conrad laugh a real, full, beautiful laugh. Buster was our secret. He was the only living proof that Conrad and I shared a genuine warmth.

Now, Buster was resting his big head on Elsie's lap. She stroked his thick fur, laughing brightly as he licked her hand. His tail thumped happily against the floor.

Conrad gave him away.

He didn't just give away my gown. He gave away our only happy memory. He handed my dog to a stranger without a single word to me.

A pathetic whimper echoed in my mind. It was my inner wolf. She was gentle and submissive. She had loved Conrad unconditionally because he was the first person to ever rescue me. When I was sixteen, he pulled me out of a pitch-black storage shed. He carried me into the moonlight. He saved me. Because of that one act, my wolf and I tied our entire existence to him. We thought he was our safe place.

But watching Buster nuzzle Elsie's hand, something inside me finally shattered.

It wasn't just a crack. It was a complete, irreparable break. The sound of it echoed in my bones.

My gentle wolf let out one last, agonizing cry. Then, she curled up into a tight ball deep inside my mind. She closed her eyes. She went completely silent. The warmth in my chest vanished, replaced by a freezing, terrifying void. I couldn't feel her anymore. She had retreated into a deep dormancy, broken by the ultimate rejection.

I was alone in my own body.

I backed away from the window. My hands were shaking violently. The mate mark on my neck felt like a branding iron, burning my flesh. I turned away from the cabin, away from the pack house, away from the male who took everything from me.

I broke into a sprint.

The night swallowed me whole. Branches whipped my face and tore at my clothes, but I didn't slow down. I ran blindly into the dark woods. I didn't care about the dangers waiting in the shadows. I didn't care about the rogue patrols near the boundary lines. I just ran toward the territory border, desperate to escape the suffocating grip of a mate who never wanted me.