After His Mistress Killed My Baby, I Stole Her Future

The banquet hall was a cacophony of laughter and clinking silverware, a symphony of joy that felt like a cheese grater against my skin. I stood near the kitchen service doors, a ghost in grey silk, watching the pack celebrate the erasure of my son's existence. They toasted to the new "Future Alpha Jedidiah," while the real Jedidiah’s ashes sat in a cold, dark closet upstairs.

I turned to signal a server for more wine, desperate for a distraction, when a shadow fell over me. The scent of vanilla and blood orange—sickeningly sweet—clogged my nose.

Kimora stood there, her silver dress shimmering like liquid mercury. She swirled the champagne in her flute, her eyes dancing with malice. She didn't speak aloud. Instead, her voice slithered directly into my mind, an intrusive, oily sensation that made my wolf bristle.

*"You look dreadful, Clara. Like a mourner at a wedding."*

I grit my teeth, refusing to engage. I reached for a tray of crystal goblets a server had just set down, intending to make myself useful, to disappear into the work.

*"He was so small,"* Kimora’s mind-voice continued, darker now. *"Like a little bird."*

The tray in my hands trembled. I froze.

Suddenly, a vision exploded behind my eyes—not a memory of my own, but hers. It was vivid, terrifyingly high-definition. I saw the nursery through her eyes. I felt the predatory thrill in her chest. I saw my tiny, premature son in the incubator, the glass lid propped open. And then, I felt the sensation of shifting, of jaws snapping, not by accident, but with precision. The crunch of fragile bone.

I gasped, the air leaving my lungs in a rush.

*"It wasn't a failure to thrive, you stupid bitch,"* Kimora purred in my head, the image fading but the horror remaining. *"I killed him. I snapped his neck to make room for my son. And the best part? Colton helped me bury the evidence. He paid the doctor to lie so his precious mistress wouldn't be branded a murderer."*

The world tilted on its axis. The roar in my ears was deafening.

My fingers went numb. The heavy silver tray slipped from my grasp.

*CRASH.*

The sound of shattering crystal cut through the banquet hall like a gunshot. The music faltered. The laughter died instantly. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the kitchen doors, landing on me standing amidst a sea of broken glass and spilled wine.

"Clara!"

Colton’s voice was a thunderclap. He marched from the head table, his face twisted in a snarl. He didn't look concerned. He looked inconvenienced. He looked furious that I had marred his perfect night.

"Look at what you've done!" he shouted, closing the distance between us. The Alpha aura rolled off him in suffocating waves, a physical weight designed to crush defiance. "Can you do nothing right?"

"She..." I stammered, my voice barely a whisper, pointing a shaking finger at Kimora. "She told me..."

"Silence!" Colton roared, using the Alpha tone. My wolf whined, forcing my head down against my will. "I am tired of your jealousy! You ruin everything with your pathetic need for attention."

He stopped directly in front of me, his shoes crunching on the shards of crystal. "Kneel."

The command bypassed my conscious thought and seized my motor functions. My knees hit the hard floor, glass biting into my skin through the silk of my dress. Tears of rage and humiliation burned my eyes.

"Apologize to Kimora," Colton commanded, gesturing to his mistress, who stood with a hand over her mouth in feigned shock. "Apologize for ruining her moment."

I looked up at him. This man, my fated mate. The man who had covered up the murder of our child. Hate, pure and black, finally eclipsed the grief in my heart.

I lowered my head, staring at his belt. There, clipped loosely next to his holster, was a black plastic card with a gold chip. The Alpha Command Key. It opened everything—the pack borders, the safe house records, and the private vault in his office.

I couldn't fight him. Not like this. I had to be a snake.

"I... I can't..." I gasped, letting my eyelids flutter. I pushed my aura down, making myself feel small and weak. "The pressure... Colton, please..."

I swayed, letting gravity take me. I collapsed forward, aiming for his legs.

"Damn it, Clara!" Colton caught me reflexively, his hands gripping my shoulders to keep me from face-planting into the glass. For a split second, we were pressed together.

My hand moved with the speed of a desperate thief. I slid the card from his belt and tucked it instantly into the long, tight sleeve of my dress.

"I feel faint," I whispered, leaning my weight on him, ensuring the card was secure against my wrist.

Colton shoved me back, disgusted. "Get her out of here," he barked at a nearby Beta. "Take her to her room. She is an embarrassment."

I didn't wait for the Beta. I scrambled to my feet, clutching my wrist, and fled the hall. I didn't look at Kimora. I didn't look at the pack members whispering behind their hands. I focused only on the cold plastic against my skin.

I reached my room and slammed the door, throwing the deadbolt. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

They killed him. They killed my baby and laughed about it.

I went to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag. My hands were shaking, but my mind was ice cold. I reached out across the mental tether that had been silent for ten years, finding the warm, sturdy presence I had been too afraid to touch.

*Trevor.*

The connection snapped open instantly, alert and waiting.

*"Clara?"* His voice in my head was breathless, surprised.

I grabbed my passport and a wad of cash I had hidden in a winter boot. I touched the keycard in my sleeve.

*"Now,"* I sent back.

I didn't wait for a reply. I started packing.