Betrayed by My Alpha Mate

The scent hit me first—metallic, wrong, like copper pennies scattered across stone. My wolf stirred uneasily in my chest as I descended the basement stairs of the pack house, each step echoing in the silence that felt too heavy, too final. "Sarah?" I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sarah, are you down here?" The basement was rarely used, mostly storage for old furniture and forgotten memories. But something had drawn me here, a pull I couldn't explain, a wrongness that made my heavily pregnant belly tighten with dread. I found her in the corner, slumped against the cold stone wall like a broken doll. My sister. My beautiful, gentle sister who always smelled like wildflowers and sunshine. Now she smelled like death. "No." The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

Chapters

Chapter 2

"Watch me." The words hung in the air between us like a challenge thrown down before the Moon Goddess herself.

Elliott's eyes flashed gold—his wolf rising to the surface. The Alpha authority that had once made me feel protected now felt like a noose tightening around my throat.

"Victoria." His voice dropped to that dangerous octave that made lesser wolves submit. "You will not take this to the Council. That is a direct order from your Alpha."

The command hit me like a physical blow, my pregnant body doubling over as the Alpha compulsion tried to force my submission. My wolf snarled and fought against the invisible chains, her fury giving me strength even as pain lanced through my skull.

"No!" The word tore from my throat, raw and defiant. "My sister deserves justice! She deserves—"

"She deserves to rest in peace," Elliott cut me off, his tone growing colder by the second. "Not to have her memory dragged through Council proceedings based on the desperate ramblings of a suicidal girl."

I staggered backward, my hand instinctively going to my swollen belly as the baby kicked frantically in response to my distress. "Desperate ramblings? She named him, Elliott. She named Jaxson Barnes. Your precious Delilah's brother."

Something flickered across his face—guilt, maybe, or fear. But it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"You're hysterical," he said, and the clinical detachment in his voice made my blood run cold. "Grief can make people see things that aren't there, believe things that—"

"Don't you dare." My wolf was fully present now, lending steel to my voice despite the tears still streaming down my face. "Don't you dare dismiss her pain like it meant nothing."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway above us—pack members drawn by the sound of their Luna screaming. I could hear their worried murmurs, their confusion at the scent of death and rage drifting up from the basement.

"Elliott?" Delilah's voice drifted down the stairs, sickeningly sweet with false concern. "Is everything alright? The whole pack can hear—"

She stopped abruptly as she reached the bottom step, taking in Sarah's lifeless form and my tear-stained face. For just a moment, I saw something in her expression—not shock, but calculation. As if she were rapidly weighing her options.

"Oh my goddess," she breathed, one hand flying to her throat in a perfect display of horror. "Sarah... what happened?"

"Your brother happened," I snarled, and watched her face go carefully blank.

"Victoria," Elliott warned, but I was past caring about his warnings.

"She left a letter," I continued, my voice growing stronger with each word. "She told me everything. What Jaxson did to her. How he said no one would believe her because of who his sister was."

Delilah's eyes darted to Elliott, and I caught the look that passed between them. Understanding. Conspiracy. My mate and his chosen mate, united against me.

"A letter written by someone in the depths of mental illness," Delilah said softly, moving to Elliott's side with practiced ease. "Elliott, you can't possibly believe—"

"I believe my sister," I said, my voice echoing off the stone walls. "And so will the Council of Alphas."

"No." Elliott's voice cracked like a whip. "You will not shame this pack with baseless accusations. You will not drag us into a scandal that could destroy everything we've built."

The Alpha command slammed into me again, stronger this time, and I felt my knees buckle. But my wolf rose to meet it, her rage burning away the compulsion like fire consuming dry grass.

"A weak Alpha who can't control his own mate will lose the pack's respect," Delilah murmured, so quietly I almost missed it. But I saw how Elliott's jaw tightened, how his shoulders straightened.

"Ryan!" Elliott's voice boomed through the pack house, carrying the full weight of his Alpha authority. "Get down here. Now."

Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs as his Beta appeared, taking in the scene with wide, shocked eyes. "Alpha? What... what happened to Sarah?"

"Our Luna," Elliott said, the word dripping with disdain, "has decided to spread malicious lies about pack members. She's suffering from grief-induced hysteria and needs to be contained until she comes to her senses."

Ryan's eyes darted between Elliott and me, confusion and horror warring in his expression. "Alpha, I don't understand. What lies?"

"Arrest her," Elliott commanded, and I felt my world tilt on its axis. "For insubordination and disturbing the peace."

"Elliott, no," I whispered, but my mate's face was stone.

Ryan hesitated, his loyalty to his Alpha warring with his obvious discomfort. "Alpha, she's pregnant. She's your mate. Surely—"

"She's a threat to pack stability," Elliott cut him off. "Do as I command, Beta. Now."

My wolf threw herself against my ribcage, desperate to shift, to fight, to protect our unborn pup. But the silver chains Ryan reluctantly produced would make shifting impossible, and we both knew it.

As the cold metal closed around my wrists and ankles, burning like liquid fire against my skin, I met Elliott's eyes one last time.

"You'll regret this," I whispered. "When the truth comes out—and it will—you'll regret choosing her over me."

But Elliott had already turned away, his arm sliding around Delilah's waist as they climbed the stairs together, leaving me chained in the basement with my sister's body and the dying echoes of my shattered heart.

Continue to next part

Sienna woke up in a hospital room, her body screaming from a severe car accident. Through the glass, a man paced with violent rage, a dark shadow she felt absolutely nothing for. Her friend Julia burst in, eyes bloodshot, dropping a bomb: "He didn't even try to help you." Dante, Sienna's fiancé, had protected another woman, Valeria, in the crash, leaving Sienna to burn alive. Her past life unspooled – seven years sacrificed, an architecture degree abandoned, all to serve Dante. Her phone was a shrine to him: his photos, his "taboos," and even "Valeria's preferences," with no trace of Sienna herself. But amnesia brought no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating fury. She felt disgust for the "idiot" she'd been, stripped of dignity. The memory loss was a release, a blank slate. With chilling resolve, Sienna deleted every trace of Dante. Ripping out her IV, she declared, "The wedding proceeds." Not for love, but as a weapon: "I need to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear."

Action Mystery Romance

7.2

Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King

7.2

For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess. Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world. Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna. Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee. Immediately after, my mother called to gloat. "Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?" She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue. I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die. But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom. I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent. If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one.

Mystery Romance Werewolf

7.3

My Fiance's Deadly Betrayal

7.3

A week before my wedding, my fiancé' s sister-in-law, Kimberlee, ran me off a bridge. As I lay dying in the wreckage, my fiancé, Deacon, rushed past me to comfort her, barking at the paramedics to prioritize her "superficial" shock over my fatal injuries. He forced my crushed hand to sign a waiver absolving her of all fault, then left me to die in the rain. "She's just trying to get attention," he muttered. "Kimberlee is the priority. She almost died." I watched as a ghost while he ignored the pleas of my colleagues to perform the life-saving surgery I needed. He even told my mentor he wished I were dead. Then, he proposed to Kimberlee with my ring. My love for him finally shattered. I was dead, my career was being destroyed, and my murderer was wearing my ring. But death wasn't the end. It was a front-row seat to their betrayal, and I was tethered to the man who let me die, forced to watch every single moment.

Horror Mystery Romance

9.2

My Husband Moved His Mistress Into Our Home

9.2

The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window as I arranged fresh berries on a plate. Six years of silence had taught me to navigate the world through touch and sight. My fingers danced across the countertop, feeling the vibrations of appliances, the cool surface of the marble, the soft texture of fruit. I hummed silently to myself—a habit from before the explosion that had stolen my hearing. I reached for a glass, intending to pour orange juice for Teo before he woke up. My fingers closed around it, but something slipped. The glass tumbled from my grasp, time seeming to slow as it fell toward the floor. Then I heard it. The sharp, crystalline crash of glass shattering on tile. I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

Modern Mystery Romance

9.0

Stars Hang Low Over the Wide Open Plains

9.0

Five days after my C-section, my husband Jason was summoned away again—this time by a call from his childhood friend, Angela. I stared at his message—*You handle the baby first, thanks for all your hard work*—and a wave of nausea heaved inside me. Later, when I saw the large, angry burn on our daughter Michelle’s calf from scalding water, he called it an “accidental slip.” But on his unlocked phone, I found Angela’s text: *Let the baby get a little burn. Then she won’t have the energy to bother you.* Beneath it, his immediate reply: *Okay.* So that was it. The child I’d risked my life to bring into the world was, in his eyes, nothing more than a tool to teach me a lesson. *** Alone in bed, I listened to our five-day-old daughter wail herself hoarse in her crib. The last of the anesthesia was wearing off, leaving my incision throbbing as if a thousand ants were gnawing at it. A cold sweat broke over my skin. Every movement threatened to tear my stitches, leaving me helpless—unable to get up, unable to hold her. My phone still glowed, open to my chat with Jason. My last message read: *Michelle won't stop crying. When are you coming home?* His reply: *Angela's place lost power. She's scared alone. I'm heading over to check. You soothe the baby first, thanks for all your hard work, honey.* Followed by a kissing emoji. That little icon made me sick. How laughable. The man who once vowed, “Just focus on giving birth, honey, I’ll handle the baby,” was now at another woman’s apartment, fixing appliances that never stayed fixed, right when I needed him most. And our daughter and I? We’d been reduced to a casual *thanks for all your hard work.* Despair and pain washed over me together. Finally, a sob tore from my throat, and the tears came—hot, helpless, unstoppable. I hated him. I hated that I’d been so blind, marrying this selfish, spineless man. But I hated myself more. Why did it take until now to finally see clearly? Before the wedding, Jason had doted on my every whim. He was the ambitious small-town boy who’d made it in the city. I was the only daughter of a well-off urban family. My parents gifted us a fully paid-off apartment, a decent car, and a substantial trust fund in my name. Everyone said I was marrying beneath me, but I was blinded by his drive and his endless consideration. He remembered all my likes and dislikes, made me ginger tea for my cramps, and picked me up no matter how late I worked. His most frequent promise: “Debra, you are my whole world. I’ll never let you suffer a single grievance in this lifetime.” I believed him. Then I got pregnant. He began using work as an excuse to come home less and less. Then came the delivery. As I lay writhing in the labor room, he got a call from Angela. Hesitating, he turned to me. “Debra, Angela... she just went through a bad breakup. She’s really unstable. I’m worried she might hurt herself...” If my mother hadn’t slapped him right then, he might have actually left me—in the throes of childbirth—to go comfort his “poor, helpless little sister.” After Michelle was born, I thought he’d finally pull himself together. I was wrong. The first day postpartum: Angela’s light bulb was out. Jason went. The second day: her sink was clogged. Jason went again. The third day, the fourth day... the excuses never stopped. Fixing her computer, helping her carry packages, even just accompanying her to take out the trash. I went from quietly enduring, to questioning him, to the numb resignation I felt now. Jason always had his reasons. “Debra, don’t overthink it. What we have is just a sibling bond. She’s struggling alone in the big city. What’s wrong with me helping her out? You never used to be this petty.” Petty?

Modern Mystery Romance

8.8

The Contract Girlfriend

8.8

Evie Sinclair signed a contract in desperation-no strings, just a paycheck, and a few months of pretending to be someone she's not. What she didn't know? The man she agreed to "assist" wasn't just anyone. Miles Ashford was a real-life duke. And nothing about this arrangement was simple. Thrust into a world of old money, whispered scandals, and glittering façades, Evie finds herself center stage in an aristocratic charade where every smile is loaded and every secret has claws. She's supposed to keep her distance, to play her part. But Miles is intoxicating: guarded, charming, and haunted by something he won't say. When his ex resurfaces, the family's claws come out, and the lies start to unravel, Evie realizes she's caught in something far deeper than she signed up for. Falling for Miles was never part of the plan... but neither was surviving the storm that follows. Because in this game of status and secrets, love might be the biggest risk of all.

Modern Mystery Romance

Betrayed by My Alpha Mate

Chapter 2

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