When My Mate Offered Me to the Rogue King

The conference room in the Pack House was suffocating. The air conditioner hummed, battling the heavy, humid heat of the approaching storm, but it did nothing to cool the burning shame on my cheeks. Today was the border summit with the Blue Moon Pack, a critical diplomatic meeting regarding our shared river territories. As Luna, I had spent three nights drafting the proposed treaty amendments with my one good hand, losing sleep to ensure our pack’s interests were protected.

Yet, as Alpha Dennis Adams and his delegation entered the room, I wasn’t seated at the mahogany table.

"Aria," Theodore’s voice cut through the room, sharp and dismissive. He didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on the papers in front of him. "We’re missing the agricultural reports from 2018. Go fetch them from the archives."

I froze. The archives were in the basement, three floors down. "Theo, the meeting is starting. Those reports aren't relevant to the river treaty."

"Do not argue with me in front of guests," he growled, the Alpha command vibrating in the air. "Go."

I gritted my teeth, clutching my plaster-cast arm to my chest, and turned to leave. As I did, I saw Macie. She was standing right beside Theodore’s chair, wearing a silk dress that hugged her petite frame—a dress that looked disturbingly similar to one Frances wore in her official portrait. She held a silver pitcher of water, pouring glasses for the gathered elders with the grace of a hostess. With the grace of a Luna.

I was the errand girl. She was the queen.

By the time I returned, breathless and aching, the meeting was in full swing. I placed the dusty file on the table, expecting to be ignored. Instead, the room went silent.

Alpha Dennis Adams, a man with graying temples and eyes that held the wisdom of decades, stood up. He ignored Theodore. He ignored Macie, who was currently leaning over Theodore's shoulder to whisper something in his ear. Dennis turned his entire body toward me and bowed his head low—a sign of deep respect usually reserved for equals.

"Luna Aria," Dennis said, his voice warm and genuine. "I was just telling Alpha Hamilton that the clauses you added regarding the fishing rights were brilliant. Your foresight saved both our packs a great deal of conflict. It is an honor to be in your presence."

The silence that followed was deafening. Macie’s smile faltered. Theodore went rigid, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the armrests of his chair.

"Thank you, Alpha Adams," I whispered, fighting the urge to cry. For the first time in seven years, someone saw me.

Theodore cleared his throat, a harsh, grinding sound. "Yes, well. Aria is diligent with paperwork. Macie, please refill Alpha Adams' glass."

The dismissal was brutal, but the seed had been planted. Throughout the rest of the meeting, Theodore’s scent grew acrid with suppressed rage.

***

The moment the Blue Moon delegation’s SUVs disappeared down the driveway, Theodore turned on me. He didn't wait until we were private; he cornered me in the grand foyer, grabbing my uninjured shoulder and slamming me back against the wall.

"What was that?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. His eyes were flashing between brown and amber, his wolf pacing near the surface.

"I don't know what you mean," I stammered, wincing as the impact jarred my broken arm.

"Don't play innocent!" he roared. "You were flirting with him. Prancing around, looking pathetic with that cast, trying to garner sympathy. 'Oh, look at the poor, mistreated Luna.' Did you enjoy making me look weak in front of a rival Alpha?"

"I didn't say a word!" I cried out, finally pushing back against his chest. "He respected me, Theo! He acknowledged the work I did—work you didn't even read! Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I have value?"

Theodore laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was a cold, cruel sound. "Value? Aria, look at yourself. You are a wolfless burden. The Moon Goddess made a mistake pairing us. A warrior soul like mine needs a mate who understands the fire of battle, not a secretary who hides in the garden."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Macie understands. She has a survivor's spirit. She doesn't need to be coddled. You? You're just... heavy."

He released me abruptly, as if my skin burned him, and stormed toward his office. I slid down the wall, the word *burden* echoing in my skull, shattering whatever confidence Dennis had briefly given me.

"Alpha, wait!"

The voice was gravelly and old. Jenkins, the pack’s oldest warrior, stepped out from the shadows of the hallway. His face was a map of scars, a testament to fifty years of service. He had been there the day Theodore’s father died. He had been there the day I dragged Theodore from the ambush.

Theodore stopped, his back stiff. "What is it, Jenkins?"

"You are walking a dangerous path, boy," Jenkins said, dropping the formalities. "That girl... Macie. She isn't right. Her scent changes when the wind turns. And the Luna... you forget too easily who pulled you from the jaws of death when you were nothing but blood and bone."

Theodore spun around, his lips curled in a snarl. "Careful, old man. Your tenure does not grant you immunity."

"I saw her eyes today," Jenkins persisted, stepping closer. "Macie. There is no wolf in them. Only greed. You are trading gold for fool's glitter, Alpha."

"**Silence!**" Theodore bellowed, the Alpha Tone cracking the plaster on the ceiling. "Speak ill of her again, and I will strip your rank and throw you to the rogues myself. Macie is under my protection. Aria is merely... here."

Theodore stormed into his office and slammed the door, the vibration rattling the frames on the wall.

Jenkins didn't move for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned to where I sat crumpled on the floor. The old warrior’s eyes were filled with a profound, heartbreaking sorrow. He didn't say a word—he didn't have to. The look on his face told me everything.

The pack was breaking. And I was the only one who could see the cracks.