My Alpha Poisoned Me for His Mistress

The rogue spy accusation reached the Ashford Pack within three days.

I knew because the omega who cleaned the Luna quarters told me. She'd overheard the messenger at the gate. Beta Julius was coming. He'd requested formal audience with Alpha Carter. He was bringing the silver-capped discipline rod.

I didn't ask what that meant. I already knew.

The rod was Ashford tradition—reserved for bloodline reckonings, the kind of discipline that left marks meant to be seen. My father had used it twice in my lifetime, both times on warriors who'd broken pack law badly enough that exile wasn't sufficient punishment. You struck them. You severed them. You made sure everyone watched.

I stood in the Luna quarters and looked at my reflection in the window. The silver burns on my arms had faded to pink welts. The bond-mark on my neck still ached, a dull throb that never quite stopped. My wolf was silent inside my ribs—not gone, just waiting.

I pressed my thumb against the mark. It didn't burn anymore. It just sat there, a brand I couldn't remove.

I went downstairs.

---

The central courtyard was already full when I arrived.

Warriors lined the stone perimeter. Their mates stood behind them. The visiting pack delegates clustered near the main gate, their faces carefully neutral. Carter stood at the center, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Skyla was beside him, her hand resting on his forearm.

Beta Julius stood ten feet away. He wore formal Ashford pack dress—the dark coat with silver buttons, the ceremonial sash that marked him as my father's second. In his right hand he held the discipline rod. It was shorter than I remembered. The silver cap at the end gleamed under the afternoon sun.

He looked at me when I crossed the courtyard. His face didn't change.

"Esme Perry," he said. His voice carried across the stones, formal and flat. "You stand accused of compromising Ironveil's security through rogue affiliation and deliberate concealment of your defective bloodline. As your bloodline Alpha, I am here to administer Ashford reckoning."

I stopped three feet from him. I didn't speak. There was nothing to say that would matter.

Carter stepped forward. "Permission granted, Beta Julius. Proceed."

My father nodded once. He turned to face me fully.

"Kneel," he said.

I knelt.

The first strike hit my left shoulder. The silver cap burned through my shirt before the impact registered. Pain exploded across my back—not the sharp pain of a wound but the deep, searing agony of silver against skin. My spine arched. My teeth clenched. I tasted blood where I bit my tongue.

I didn't make a sound.

The second strike hit lower, across my shoulder blades. The burn was worse this time—the silver had more surface contact. Smoke rose from the fabric of my shirt. The smell was wrong. Burned cloth and burned skin and something metallic that made my wolf slam against my ribs once, hard.

I pressed my palms flat against the courtyard stones. I kept my head down.

The third strike hit my lower back. My vision went white. The pain was everything—bone-deep, nerve-shredding, the kind of agony that makes the body forget how to breathe. The bond pulsed. Carter's satisfaction bled through it, faint but unmistakable.

I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I knelt there with my palms on the stones and my back on fire and waited for it to be over.

Beta Julius stepped back. He pulled a folded document from his coat pocket and began to read.

"By the authority vested in me as Beta of the Ashford Pack, I, Julius Perry, formally sever the bloodline bond between myself and Esme Perry, daughter of the late Miriam Perry. She is no longer recognized as Ashford-born. She carries no claim to Ashford protection, Ashford territory, or Ashford lineage. This severance is witnessed and binding."

He folded the document. He looked at Carter, not at me.

"The reckoning is complete, Alpha Jenkins. Ashford Pack thanks you for your cooperation in this matter."

Carter stepped forward. They shook hands. The gesture was formal, businesslike. Two men concluding a transaction.

Beta Julius walked toward the gate. His footsteps were steady. Unhurried. He didn't look back.

I stayed on my knees. Blood soaked through the back of my shirt where the silver had broken skin. The burns throbbed in time with my heartbeat. Around me, the courtyard was silent. No one moved. No one spoke.

Finally, Carter's voice cut through the quiet.

"Dismissed."

Footsteps. Voices. The crowd dispersed. I heard Skyla's soft laugh, quickly muffled. I heard the gate close behind my father.

I pushed myself upright. My legs shook but held. I turned and walked back toward the Luna quarters. My back screamed with every step. The bond pulsed—Carter's certainty, cold and distant.

I didn't look at anyone. I kept my head up and my face blank and walked.

Behind me, someone whispered. I didn't catch the words. I didn't need to.

I reached the Luna quarters and locked the door. My hands were steady.

I had work to do.