After His Mistress Poisoned Me, My True Mate Found Me

I left the infirmary three days later. No one came to escort me. The pack house, once my domain, felt like a foreign territory. My slippers made no sound on the hardwood floors as I wandered the halls like a ghost haunting her own life.

The shift in power was absolute. When I walked into the dining room, the Omegas didn't bow their heads. A young girl, barely sixteen, slapped a plate of cold toast and watery eggs on the table before turning her back on me. No fresh fruit. No warm blood-sausage to help me heal. Just scraps. I pushed the plate away, my stomach churning with nausea and hollow grief.

Upstairs, the heavy thud of luggage being dragged across the floorboards drew my attention. I stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, watching two burly Delta warriors carry a set of designer pink suitcases into the Alpha suite. Arielle’s things. They were moving her into my bedroom. My sanctuary. I didn't even have the energy to scream. The title of Luna felt like ash in my mouth. I had lost everything—my baby, my husband, my pack's respect.

But beneath the crushing weight of my despair, a nagging question clawed at my mind. *Why?* Why had my body failed so violently? Why was my wolf so weak that a simple shock had caused a miscarriage?

I needed to see my medical files. Dr. Thorne, the pack doctor, was fiercely loyal to Charles. He never let me see my own charts, claiming it would only upset me. But Charles kept copies of everything in his private study.

The house was quiet, most of the pack out for the afternoon patrol. I slipped down the corridor, my steps unnaturally silent. It was a survival skill I had honed over six years of walking on eggshells. The heavy oak door to Charles's study was locked, but I knew the keypad code. *His grandfather's birthday.* Typical.

The lock clicked green. I slipped inside, the scent of cedar and Charles's heavy pine aura making my throat tight. I hurried to the mahogany filing cabinet behind his desk. My fingers trembled as I rifled through the thick folders. *Financials. Border patrols. Hart Alliance.*

Then, I heard it. The heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots in the hallway.

"I don't care what the elders say, Marcus," Charles's voice echoed through the thick wood.

Panic seized my chest. I shoved the drawer shut, frantically scanning the room. The large supply closet in the corner was my only option. I darted inside, pulling the louvered door shut just a fraction of a second before the study door swung open.

I pressed my back against the cold wall, holding my breath. Through the narrow wooden slats of the closet door, I could see Charles walk to his desk, pouring himself a glass of amber liquid. Beta Marcus stood near the door, his posture stiff, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"The council is unsettled, Alpha," Marcus said, his voice strained with barely concealed discomfort. "Publicly shaming Claire... broadcasting her weak wolf form like that. It was cruel. And she just lost a pup."

Charles scoffed, taking a lazy sip of his drink. "She lost a parasite, Marcus. Nothing more."

I clamped a hand over my mouth to muffle a sob. *A parasite.* My baby.

"It's still your bloodline," Marcus argued, stepping forward. "If the Moon Goddess blessed you with a pup, even with a Hart—"

"The Moon Goddess had nothing to do with it," Charles snapped, slamming his glass onto the desk. The sharp crack made me flinch in the dark. "I've spent six years making sure that weak, pathetic woman never carried my heir. Do you know how hard it is to source liquid wolf-bane in those quantities without drawing attention?"

My blood turned to ice. *Wolf-bane?*

"You..." Marcus's voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "You've been taking contraceptives? Alpha, that's a direct violation of the mating laws. You told the pack she was cursed. You told *her* she was barren."

"And it worked perfectly," Charles said smoothly, a sickening smirk playing on his lips. "I took a low-grade wolf-bane extract every single day to suppress my seed. It kept her weak, too, bleeding through the bond. I never wanted to breed with a Hart. I only needed her family's money."

He leaned back in his leather chair, sighing as if discussing the weather. "I missed one dose during the River Pack summit. One damn dose, and the bitch got pregnant. But thankfully, the problem resolved itself. Arielle's little pregnancy stunt gave Claire just enough of a shock to trigger the miscarriage. Saved me a trip to a rogue abortion clinic."

Charles laughed. A dark, amused chuckle that vibrated right through the wooden slats and pierced my soul.

In the dark, dusty closet, my tears stopped falling. The crushing, suffocating grief that had drowned me for three days vanished, replaced by something entirely new.

Rage.

Pure, unadulterated, burning rage. My inner wolf, whom I thought had died with my pup, suddenly snapped her jaws in the back of my mind. Her eyes, usually a dull, defeated gray, flared an electric, blinding blue.

*He killed our pup,* she snarled, her voice vibrating with a terrifying, ancient power I had never felt before. *He killed our pup.*