After My Mate Scent-Marked His Mistress, I Rejected Him

The hallway of the A-frame cabin, which I had envisioned filling with family photos and soft rugs, was lined with industrial crates. My boots crunched on the hardwood floor—the floor I had sanded and stained myself over three grueling weekends—as I walked deeper into the desecration of my future.

I pushed open the double doors to the master bedroom. This was supposed to be our Mating Suite. I had painted the walls a soft sage green, Oliver’s favorite color. I had ordered a custom California King bed, imagining the mornings we would spend there after the ceremony.

Now, the room looked like a smuggler’s den.

Stacks of boxes stamped with the Silver Lake Pack medical insignia were piled high against the walls. I ripped the lid off the nearest one. Vials of liquid silver and wolfsbane suppressants clinked together. These were Class A restricted medicines. Stealing these wasn't just petty theft; it was treason.

My stomach rolled, bile rising in my throat. I stumbled toward the nightstand, where a leather-bound ledger sat open. I recognized the handwriting immediately. It was Harlow’s loopy, childish script.

*Sold to Red Tooth Rogues: 50 vials. Payment pending.*

And at the bottom of the page, authorized by a signature that made my blood freeze: *Valentina Ross*.

It was a forgery, but a good one. They weren’t just stealing; they were building a paper trail to hang me for treason if they ever got caught. I looked up at the bed, my vision blurring. The custom sheets were rumpled and stained. A scrap of red lace—cheap, scratchy lingerie that I would never wear—lay tossed on the pillow where my head was supposed to rest.

My wolf let out a howl of pure agony in my mind, scratching at the back of my skull. *Mate. Mate is broken. Mate is wrong.*

The sound of tires crunching on gravel outside snapped me back to reality.

Headlights swept across the ceiling. Car doors slammed. Laughter—loud and carefree—drifted through the open window. I looked around frantically. There was nowhere to go. If I went out the window, they’d see me.

I dove into the walk-in closet, pulling the louvered doors shut just as the front door downstairs banged open.

“...so annoying about the credit card,” Oliver’s voice carried up the stairs, whiny and petulant. “She acts like she’s the only one who works.”

“She’s just controlling, baby,” Harlow’s voice cooed, sickly sweet. “She doesn’t understand that an Alpha like you needs freedom. She’s suffocating your potential.”

I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. *An Alpha like him?* He couldn’t even organize his own sock drawer without my help.

They walked into the bedroom. Through the wooden slats of the closet door, I had a front-row seat to my own destruction.

Oliver tossed his keys onto the dresser—right next to the incriminating ledger. He flopped onto the bed, groaning. “I just need this investigation to be over. Once the Council locks her up, we can finally sell this place and get a condo in the city. Something modern.”

Sell the house? The house *I* paid for?

Harlow crawled onto the bed, straddling his hips. She was wearing a tight dress I realized with a jolt was mine—one I thought I had lost at the dry cleaners.

“Don’t worry about her,” Harlow whispered, leaning down. “You have me now. The pack loves me. I’m going to be the Luna you deserve.”

Then, she did it.

She tilted her head, rubbing the scent gland on her neck aggressively against Oliver’s jaw. It was a primal, possessive claim. In our world, scent marking was more intimate than sex. It was a biological declaration of ownership.

And Oliver didn’t push her away. He groaned, tilting his head back to expose his throat to her. He rubbed his cheek against her neck in return, weaving his scent with hers, mixing his pine and earth with her cloying artificial orchid smell.

My wolf stopped howling. She went dead silent. The bond, that golden thread that had tethered my soul to his for seven years, turned black and withered in my chest.

I didn’t make a decision to move. My body simply reacted to the threat.

I kicked the closet door open so hard it cracked against the wall.

“Get off him!” I roared, the sound tearing from my throat with a depth I didn’t know I possessed.

Harlow shrieked, scrambling off Oliver and falling onto the floor. She immediately curled into a ball, covering her face. “Oliver! Save me! She’s crazy!”

Oliver scrambled up, his eyes wide. For a second, I saw fear. But then, his gaze flicked to Harlow cowering on the floor, and his expression hardened into a snarl.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t try to explain.

He stepped between us, puffing out his chest, shielding his mistress from his mate. A low, warning growl rumbled in his chest—directed at *me*.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Oliver shouted, pointing a shaking finger at my face. “You’re stalking us now? You’re breaking into private property to spy on us?”

I stared at him, my hands trembling with the urge to shift and tear his throat out. “*My* private property, Oliver! My name is on the deed! And look around you! Look at the stolen supplies! Look at the ledger where you forged my signature!”

“Stop it!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “Stop trying to deflect! You always do this! You always make everything about you!”

He reached down and helped Harlow up, his touch tender in a way it had never been with me. He turned back to me, his face twisted in disgust.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “Foaming at the mouth like a rogue. You’ve upset Harlow. She’s sensitive, Valentina. Not a brute like you.”

“She’s a thief!” I screamed, gesturing to the crates. “And you are cheating on me! You just scent-marked her!”

“I was comforting a friend!” Oliver bellowed, using that pathetic Alpha tone again. It washed over me, useless and weak. “Harlow is the future of this pack. She is delicate and high-born, and you are terrifying her.”

He took a step toward me, towering over me with false bravado.

“I am ordering you, as your Alpha and your superior,” he spat, “to get on your knees right now and apologize to the future Luna of my heart for invading her privacy.”