After My Alpha Stole My Mother’s Blood for His Mistress

The crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand ballroom, but nothing could warm the chill in my heart as I stood alone among the sea of dignitaries. The annual Moon Ceremony was supposed to be our pack's most sacred celebration—a time when the Alpha and Luna stood together before the Moon Goddess's blessing. Yet here I was, forcing smile after smile, explaining away Cameron's absence with practiced excuses.

"Luna Brooke," Elder Morris approached with a raised glass, "another successful year for Silverclaw. Though I wonder where Alpha Cameron might be?"

I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the whispers that followed me like shadows. "He's handling some urgent pack business. He'll join us shortly for the Alpha Toast."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Five years of marriage, and I still didn't know where my husband spent his evenings—only that it wasn't by my side.

"Of course," Elder Morris nodded, though his eyes said he knew better. "Though it's unusual for an Alpha to miss the blessing."

I nodded politely and moved on, my heels clicking against the marble floor. The whispers followed me—always the whispers.

"Did you hear? Her mother was a Rogue..."

"...mixed bloodline..."

"...wonder why he keeps her around..."

I touched the small scar on my wrist, a nervous habit I'd developed as a child when other pups would taunt me for my "impure" heritage. The Beta father who'd abandoned us before I was born, the Rogue mother who'd loved me fiercely but could never quite fit into pack society.

"Luna Brooke!" A server's voice cut through my thoughts as he stumbled, champagne splashing across my silver gown. "I'm so sorry!"

The cold liquid seeped through the fabric, but I maintained my composure. "It's fine. I should change anyway."

I retreated from the ballroom, grateful for the brief respite. The servant looked relieved as he handed me a fresh towel. "Thank you for understanding. I'll fetch another tray."

As I dabbed at my dress, something caught my eye—another server carrying an elaborate tray of gourmet dishes. Cameron's favorites: wagyu steak, black truffle risotto, and that expensive Bordeaux he loved.

"Excuse me," I called out. "Where are you taking that?"

The server hesitated. "For Alpha Cameron, of course."

"His office is on the third floor," I said, frowning. "You're headed downstairs."

The server's eyes widened slightly. "I... I was just following orders."

Something cold settled in my stomach. Without another word, I followed him, my Luna authority allowing me to bypass the guards stationed at the stairwell.

The scent hit me first—vanilla and decay, sweet and wrong. It grew stronger as we descended past the storage rooms, past the wine cellar, to the restricted dungeon levels that hadn't been used in years.

"Wait," I whispered, but the server had already disappeared around a corner.

I followed the scent, my heart pounding against my ribs. The dungeon corridor was dimly lit, but I could see fresh footprints in the dust. Someone had been here recently—often.

At the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar. Music drifted out—soft, romantic. I pushed it open slowly.

The room beyond was nothing like the grim cells I remembered. Plush carpets covered the stone floor, and elegant furniture filled what had once been a prison. Candles cast a warm glow over walls that had been freshly painted.

And there, on a velvet chaise lounge, sat Cameron—my husband, my Alpha, my supposed fated mate—with his arms wrapped around a woman I recognized instantly from old photographs.

Nova Daniels. His childhood sweetheart who'd rejected him when he was nothing but a poor Beta.

"Cam," she murmured, her fingers tracing his jaw. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he replied, his voice tender in a way I'd never heard directed at me.

Around Nova's neck gleamed the ancestral Luna Emerald Necklace—the one Cameron had told me was being cleaned at the jewelers.

The tray of food sat nearby, untouched. This wasn't a one-time visit. This was routine.

"You're early," Cameron said, noticing the server who'd followed me. "We're not ready for—"

He froze when he saw me standing there, my champagne-stained dress clinging to my skin, my eyes wide with betrayal.

"Brooke," he said, not a hint of shame in his voice. Just annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

I couldn't speak. My throat closed up as Nova's eyes met mine—not with guilt, but with triumph.

"Cameron," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "What is this?"

He sighed, standing up and pulling Nova protectively behind him. "This isn't what it looks like."

"It looks exactly like what it is," I said, finding strength in my fury. "You've been lying to me."

Nova chose that moment to sway dramatically, her hand pressed to her forehead. "Oh, Cam, I feel faint..."

Cameron caught her as she collapsed, his face twisted with concern. "Nova is sick, Brooke. She needs me."

"She needs your aura to survive," I repeated numbly. "That's what you've been telling me all along."

"Yes," he snapped. "She's fragile. What she has is rare—a condition that affects wolfless werewolves."

"And the necklace? The dinners? The secret meetings?"

Cameron's eyes narrowed. "Don't be dramatic. This is charity work."

"Charity," I echoed hollowly.

"Go back to the party," he ordered, his Alpha tone pressing down on me. "We'll discuss this later."

As I turned to leave, Nova's eyes met mine over Cameron's shoulder—bright with victory, not a trace of weakness in them now.