My Alpha Husband Wants My Heart For His Mistress

Everyone in the Shadow Creek Pack said I was a jinx born to be a slave.

On my eighteenth birthday, my fated mate, Alpha Paxton Meyer, stripped me of my clothes and forced me into the silver-lined dungeons.

For three long years, I rotted in the dark, my skin blistering from the heavy iron walls.

He told the entire world that I was a traitor who burned down the pack orphanage.

But it was a lie—he only needed a scapegoat to protect his beautiful mistress, Chloe Russell.

I thought he would leave me to die in the dark, but today, the iron doors groaned open.

They didn't give me food; instead, they dragged me into the sterile white halls of the clinic.

I was slammed onto a cold steel operating table, my wrists and ankles locked with heavy leather straps.

Dr. Marcus Webb pulled out a massive, mechanical chest spreader made of dull, pure silver.

"Is she prepped for the surgery, doctor?" a chilling, familiar voice echoed from the door.

It was Paxton, his arm wrapped tightly around Chloe's waist, looking at me like I was a slaughtered animal.

"If we don't transplant her Luna Heart into Chloe within the hour, Chloe's wolf will fail entirely," the doctor murmured.

My fated mate smiled coldly, stepping closer to my paralyzed body.

"Don't worry, Chloe baby," Paxton whispered, his voice dripping with love for the woman who stole my life. "The wolfsbane will keep her completely frozen so she won't feel the blade slicing her ribs open."

I screamed inside my mind, but my vocal cords were frozen by the fire of the poison.

Then, the door clicked open again, and a tall, broad teenage boy walked into the room.

It was Arlo—my own flesh and blood, the son I gave birth to fourteen years ago.

He looked at my tear-streaked face, his eyes showing nothing but disgust.

Arlo stepped up to the table, leaned down, and spat directly onto my pale cheek.

"Traitorous bitch," my own son snarled, reaching out to gently take Chloe's hand. "Don't worry, Mom. You're going to be okay now after we rip her out."

My soul shattered into ash at that single word—Mom.

"Do it now, doctor," Paxton commanded, pressing the silver scalpel against my sternum.

***

The heavy iron door of the dungeon scraped against the concrete floor.

Rough hands instantly seized my arms, hauling me upward. Two guards dragged me down the sterile white corridor of the Shadow Creek Pack Hospital, their grips bruising my skin. They hurled me onto the cold steel table inside Operating Room 4.

Thick cowhide belts slammed over my wrists and ankles, locking me down against the metal surface.

"Secure the restraints tighter," a guard ordered, yanking the leather strap across my right wrist.

Dr. Calder hovered above me, his gloved fingers tapping a large syringe. Beside him, resting on a metal tray, sat a pure silver chest retractor. The harsh surgical lights blinded me.

"Hold her still," Calder muttered to the guards.

The needle pierced the vein in my arm. I tried to thrash, but the icy burn of concentrated wolfsbane flooded my system. My muscles locked instantly. Paralysis gripped my throat, trapping my voice behind my teeth. I could only stare upward, trapped in my own rigid body.

The automatic doors slid open.

Paxton walked in. My mate. The Alpha of Shadow Creek.

He did not look at me. His arms were wrapped securely around a fragile woman leaning heavily against his side. Chloe.

"Is the preparation complete?" Paxton asked, his tone stripped of warmth.

"The wolfsbane has taken full effect, Alpha," Calder replied, bowing his head. "She cannot move. She cannot make a sound. Her nervous system is suppressed."

Chloe coughed, a weak, pathetic sound, and clutched Paxton's shirt. "Paxton, I am scared. Will it hurt her?"

"Do not waste your pity on her," Paxton sneered, finally casting a glance my way. Disgust twisted his features. "She poisoned you. This is her punishment, and your salvation."

He stepped closer to the operating table, his shadow falling over my face.

"Begin the procedure," Paxton ordered the doctor. "No anesthesia. I want her to feel every second of it when you rip out her Luna heart. Chloe needs the transplant today."

My jaw strained against the paralysis. A scream battered against my closed throat. My mate was going to carve out my heart while I was fully awake.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. A teenager stepped into the harsh light of the room.

Arlo. My fourteen-year-old son.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned my eyes toward him, begging silently. Help me, Arlo. Look what your father is doing.

Arlo stopped at the edge of the surgical table. He stared down at me, his face a mask of cold indifference. There was no love in his eyes, only pure contempt.

"Arlo," Chloe whispered, reaching a pale hand toward him. "You should not be here. It is too gruesome for you."

Arlo ignored me and took Chloe's hand, squeezing it gently. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, Mom."

The word struck me harder than any physical blow.

He turned his gaze back to me. He leaned over, his face inches from mine.

"You deserve this," Arlo spat.

A glob of warm saliva landed on my cheek.

My own son. The boy I had carried, birthed, and protected. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the woman who ruined our family, calling her mother while I lay bound for slaughter.

The betrayal tore through the mate bond, snapping the final frayed threads of my connection to Paxton and Arlo. A strange heat ignited deep within my core, burning away the icy grip of the wolfsbane.

Calder picked up the silver scalpel.

"Make the incision," Paxton commanded, turning his back to shield Chloe from the sight.

The blade sliced into the pale flesh of my chest.

Instead of normal crimson, the blood welling from the wound glowed with a bizarre, golden fluorescence. The bright metallic liquid coated the silver blade, hissing faintly against the metal.

Calder stumbled back, dropping the scalpel onto the tray with a loud clatter. "Alpha! Her blood--"

He never finished the sentence.

The golden bloodline, dormant in my veins since birth, erupted into a violent frenzy. The sheer force of the awakening shattered the paralysis. My bones cracked and shifted as I forced a partial transformation.

Thick, razor-sharp claws burst from my fingertips.

I slashed upward. The heavy cowhide belts snapped like cheap string.

"Grab her!" Paxton roared, shoving Chloe behind him.

I swung my arm, the back of my clawed hand catching Calder squarely in the chest. The impact sent the doctor flying across the room. He crashed into the glass medicine cabinet, shattering it into a thousand glittering pieces before crumbling to the floor.

I ripped the remaining straps from my legs and vaulted off the table.

Blood poured down my chest, the golden glow pulsing with every beat of my damaged heart. The pain was blinding, but the rage was stronger.

Paxton lunged for me, his eyes flashing with his wolf's fury. "You are not leaving this room alive, Elena!"

I did not fight him. I spun toward the exterior wall.

Lowering my shoulder, I sprinted at full speed and slammed into the double-pane reinforced glass window. The heavy glass spider-webbed, then exploded outward into the stormy night.

Rain lashed against my face as I plummeted from the second floor. I crashed through the thick canopy of the pack border jungle, branches tearing at my hospital gown and skin. I hit the muddy ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact.

Thunder cracked overhead, masking the shouts coming from the broken window above.

I dragged myself up, clutching my bleeding chest. The golden blood seeped through my fingers, washing away in the torrential downpour. I had to keep moving. If Paxton caught me, he would finish the job.

I stumbled through the dense brush, my vision blurring, my lungs burning. Every step threatened to be my last.

The trees broke, revealing the churning waters of the border river. The riverbed was a mess of slick mud and jagged rocks. My legs gave out. I fell to my knees in the freezing mud, gasping for air.

A shadow detached itself from the tree line.

I froze.

A pair of heavy, black iron-clad military boots planted themselves directly in my path, blocking any chance of escape.

Rainwater ran off the dark metal, pooling in the mud around the thick soles.

I clutched my chest tighter and slowly tilted my head up.

My gaze tracked up long legs clad in dark tactical gear, past a broad chest wrapped in a wet trench coat, until I met his face.

I stared straight into a pair of cold, falcon-like deep eyes.