I Faked My Death After My Alpha Betrayed Me

The Pack House was unusually quiet when I returned. Most members were still at the hospital, fussing over Ruth's "injuries." My ankle throbbed with each step, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest.

I hadn't planned to come back here. Not yet. But something pulled me toward the Alpha's private quarters—the rooms I should have shared with Mason, but never had.

The heavy oak door was slightly ajar. Strange. Mason always locked it when he wasn't there.

"Mason?" I called softly, pushing the door open wider.

The scent hit me immediately—a suffocating mixture of Mason's distinctive musk and Ruth's cloying floral perfume. The air was thick with it, unmistakable in its implications.

"No," I whispered, my fingers gripping the doorframe. "No, no, no."

I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the room. Ruth's silk scarf draped over the back of Mason's chair. Her diamond earring on his nightstand. And on the floor, barely visible in the dim light, her black lace lingerie.

Silver howled in agony inside me. *He's been with her. Right here. In our home.*

I bent down, picking up the delicate fabric with trembling fingers. The scent was overwhelming—their scents intertwined in the most intimate way possible.

"You never even gave me a chance," I whispered to the empty room. "All this time, I thought you were waiting for something. That maybe you needed time."

But there had never been any waiting. Just lies.

I dropped the lingerie as if it had burned me and stumbled backward. Five years of hope crumbled in an instant. The last thread of my endurance snapped.

---

My room felt like a stranger's when I entered it. How many nights had I spent here alone while Mason worked late? How many mornings had I woken up reaching for a warmth that was never there?

I moved to my dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer where I kept my most precious possessions. Beneath a stack of neatly folded sweaters lay a small velvet box.

I opened it slowly, my heart constricting as I lifted out the simple silver ring inside. Mason had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday, before our wolves awakened, when we were just two teenagers who liked each other.

"This is a promise," he had said then, his young face serious. "Someday, when we're adults, when we know our wolves, I'll give you something better."

I had cherished that promise. Even after he became Alpha, even after he found me—his fated mate—I had held onto that cheap silver band as a symbol of what could be.

Now I knew better.

I walked to the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at me seemed hollow-eyed and pale. When had I become this ghost?

"This ends tonight," I told my reflection.

I opened the toilet lid and held the ring over the bowl. For a moment, I hesitated.

*Don't do this,* Silver whimpered. *It's all we have left.*

"It's nothing," I whispered back. "Just a lie in silver form."

I dropped the ring into the water and flushed. The sound of rushing water was oddly satisfying as the last remnant of our relationship disappeared.

"I reject the past," I said firmly to my reflection.

---

The camera felt heavy in my hands as I set it up on the dresser. I had borrowed it from the pack's media room, claiming I needed it for anniversary preparations. No one had questioned me.

I positioned it carefully, making sure it captured the entire room. Then I checked my appearance in the mirror one last time.

My hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. My face was bare of makeup. I wore a simple black sweater—practical, unadorned.

Perfect.

I pressed record and sat cross-legged on the bed, directly in the camera's frame.

"My name is Mila Spencer," I began, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "For five years, I have been the unacknowledged mate of Alpha Mason Foster of the Silverclaw Pack."

I took a deep breath, feeling Silver stir anxiously within me.

"I have endured humiliation, neglect, and betrayal. I have watched as another woman took what should have been mine—not out of love, but out of ambition and greed."

I reached beside me and lifted a leather-bound ledger I had found hidden among Ruth's belongings. Its pages contained detailed records of pack secrets sold to rival territories—territories where Ruth had family connections.

"Here is proof that Ruth Rivera has been systematically betraying the Silverclaw Pack for personal gain."

I held the book directly toward the camera, opening it to the most damning pages.

"And now," I said, returning the ledger to my side, "I will give Alpha Mason Foster exactly what he wants."

I straightened my spine, looking directly into the camera's lens.

"I, Mila Spencer, accept the rejection of Alpha Mason Foster."

The words hung in the air between us—me and my future self who would watch this recording from afar.

"I release him from all obligations to me as his fated mate. I renounce all claims to the title of Luna."

I reached for the camera, stopping the recording. My hands were steady as I connected it to my laptop and scheduled the video to be emailed to Mason and the Pack Elders exactly twenty-four hours later.

By then, Mila Spencer would be nothing but a memory—a dead woman whose ghost still had one final message to deliver.