Betrayed by Her Mate: The Awakening of the White Wolf

I unlocked my mate's tablet to check the time, but a notification caught my eye: Project Luna. Curiosity turned to horror as I opened the file. It wasn't a diary. It was a spreadsheet. Task #104: Public display of affection. Status: Complete. Task #215: Gift pearls. Status: Complete. I wasn't Jaxon's soulmate. I was a quarterly projection inherited from his dead brother to secure the pack's assets. The reality of his indifference nearly killed me at our engagement gala. When the massive chandelier snapped above us, Jaxon didn't shield me. He used my body as a launchpad to dive toward his mistress, Janice. I was crushed under lead crystal and silver wire, my flesh burning from the poison. While I lay bleeding on the marble floor, Jaxon carried a scratch-free Janice to safety, screaming at the guards to ignore me. But the physical scar on my arm was nothing compared to what I found next. I hacked into Janice’s private account. There was a marriage certificate from Vegas, dated six months ago. On the exact night I miscarried our child alone on the bathroom floor, begging him to answer his phone, he was marrying her. He let our pup die while he pledged his life to another. When he tried to buy my forgiveness with a necklace, only to let Janice snatch it from his hand, I finally snapped. I threw his money in his face, rejected the bond, and vanished to Norway. Jaxon thought I would die without him. He didn't know that the Alpha Supreme of Europe had been waiting a lifetime to find me. Chapter 1 Elfrieda POV: The screen of the tablet glowed in the darkness of the penthouse, illuminating the tears that I refused to let fall. It was Jaxon’s private device, left carelessly on the coffee table while he took a call on the terrace. I had only meant to check the time, but the notification had popped up. Project Luna: Denzel’s Legacy. Curiosity killed the cat, but it was about to slaughter the wolf. I tapped the file. It wasn't a diary. It wasn't a love letter. It was a spreadsheet. My breath hitched in my throat. It was a checklist. A literal, itemized checklist of over four hundred tasks. Task #104: Public display of affection at the Summer Solstice. Status: Complete. Task #215: Gift jewelry (pearls preferred by high society). Status: Complete. Task #302: Northern Lights trip. Status: Pending. Next to every single interaction we had shared over the last three years, there was a tag: For the Glory of the Tate Pack. I felt sick. My stomach churned, twisting into a tight knot. I wasn't his soulmate. I was a line item. I was a quarterly projection inherited from his dead brother. The glass door to the terrace was cracked open. The night wind carried the scent of rain and Jaxon’s scent—forest pine and ozone. Once, that scent made my knees weak. Now, it just smelled like a lie. I focused my hearing. It was a trait of my bloodline I kept hidden; my senses were sharper than even some Alphas. "She suspects nothing, Janice," Jaxon’s voice drifted in, low and irritated. "Stop nagging me. I have to finish the list. It was Denzel’s blood oath. I cannot let the Tate Pack crumble because I failed to secure a Luna." My heart stopped. Janice. His high school sweetheart. The Beta female who supposedly moved to London years ago. "I know you're tired of waiting," Jaxon continued, his voice softening in a way he never used with me. "But Elfrieda is... malleable. She is the perfect puppet Luna. She has the bloodline, even if she is wolfless. Once the Elders ratify the union next week, I’ll have full control of the assets. Then we can be together properly." He paused, listening to the person on the other line. "I love you, Janice. You know that. This is just duty. She is just a duty." Just a duty. The words were a physical blow. I clutched my chest. In our world, the bond between fated mates is sacred. It is designed by the Moon Goddess herself. When you find your mate, your souls are supposed to recognize each other. But Jaxon had never recognized me. I had felt the pull, the spark, three years ago. But he had looked at me with cold calculation. I thought he was just guarded. I thought he was mourning his brother. I was wrong. He wasn't mourning. He was working. I quickly closed the file and placed the tablet back exactly where it was. My hands were trembling. I remembered the music. The Royal Academy of Wolfen Arts in Europe had offered me a full scholarship for my violin. They said my music had the power to soothe feral wolves, a rare gift called the Siren's Song. I had turned it down. For him. For this pack. I had clipped my own wings to sit in a gilded cage, waiting for a man who was checking boxes on a spreadsheet. The glass door slid open. Jaxon walked in. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that fell over his eyes. He looked like a king. He looked like my executioner. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Elfrieda. You're still up." "I couldn't sleep," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. He walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. His touch should have sent sparks through me—the electric current that signifies a mate bond. But it felt dull. Muted. Like a connection interfering with static. "I was thinking," he said, his tone rehearsed. "We should go see the Northern Lights next month. It would be romantic." Task #302. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shift, to let the wolf I had buried deep inside me rip his throat out. But I couldn't. Not yet. "That sounds lovely," I lied. He kissed my forehead. It was dry and quick. "Good. I have some work to finish in the study. Go to bed." He turned and walked away, pulling out his phone again. I waited until the study door clicked shut. Then, I pulled out my own laptop. My fingers flew across the keyboard. I wasn't just a violin prodigy; silence taught you how to listen, and loneliness taught you how to find things. I hacked into Janice’s social media. It was private, but her password was pathetic—Jaxon’s birthday. There it was. A photo posted six months ago. A marriage certificate from a human courthouse in Las Vegas. Janice and Jaxon. They were already married by human law. A sob threatened to break my ribs. Six months ago. The timeline aligned perfectly with the darkest week of my life. I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind. The Mind-Link is the telepathic web that connects all pack members. It is usually noisy, filled with patrols and chatter. But I pushed past the noise, reaching for a specific frequency. Jamil? I sent the thought out, weak and broken. My brother’s voice came back instantly, sharp with alarm. Elfrieda? What’s wrong? Your mental wall is crumbling. I can feel your pain. I looked at the closed study door. I looked at the engagement ring on my finger, a diamond that felt heavier than a shackle. Get me out, I pleaded through the link. Please, brother. Come get me.