My Mate Ordered Me to Drink Wolfsbane in Public

His hand is on my throat before I can draw breath.

Not choking—just holding. A warning. His thumb presses against my pulse point, feeling it race beneath his touch, and his eyes are wild with something that looks like rage but smells like fear.

"What kind of game is this?" His voice is raw, shredded. "What are you?"

My back is flat against the brick. His body cages mine completely, and the mate bond screams between us—a living thing that claws at both our wolves, demanding we close the distance, demanding we stop fighting what the Moon Goddess made inevitable.

But he's not listening to his wolf anymore.

"Arian, please—" I start, but he cuts me off.

"No." He leans in closer, and I can see the moment his control shatters completely. "I know what you are. I've known since the moment you showed up in that fucking dress, playing innocent. You're a plant. A spy. That rich Lycan bastard who bought you ten years ago—he sent you here, didn't he? To infiltrate my pack. To destroy everything I've built."

The words hit like physical blows.

"What?" I breathe. "Arian, I never—"

"Don't." His grip tightens fractionally. "I saw you get into that Maybach. Ten years ago. The day before you were supposed to meet me. I watched you climb into a car worth more than my entire pack's territory, surrounded by guards like some precious commodity. You sold yourself, Sofia. And now you're back to finish the job."

Something inside me cracks. Not my heart—that broke days ago. Something deeper. The foundation I've been standing on since I was sixteen years old.

"You think I'm a spy," I say slowly. Quietly. "You think I came here to hurt you."

"I know you did." But his voice wavers. His thumb moves against my pulse—a caress he doesn't seem aware of making. "That speed. That strength. Omegas don't move like that. Don't fight like that. You're trained. Professional. And that scent—" He inhales sharply, his eyes darkening. "That fucking scent is designed to make me weak."

I stare at him. At this stranger wearing my mate's face.

"Let me go," I whisper.

He doesn't move. His chest heaves against mine, and I can feel his wolf battering at his control, howling in anguish at what his human half is doing.

"Let. Me. Go."

This time, something in my voice makes him flinch. He releases me like I've burned him, stumbling back two steps.

I straighten slowly. My throat aches where his hand was. My arm throbs where the rogue's claws caught me. But none of it compares to the hollow space opening up in my chest.

"You're right," I hear myself say. "I should have stayed away."

I walk past him. He doesn't try to stop me.

Behind me, I hear him punch the wall—once, twice, the sound of brick cracking. I hear him curse, low and vicious. I hear his wolf howl.

I don't look back.

---

The Omega quarters are silent when I return. I close the door, lock it, and stand in the darkness for a long moment.

Then I reach for the mind-link I've kept carefully shuttered for ten years.

*Langston.*

The response is immediate. My brother's presence floods the connection—warm, protective, edged with concern.

*Sofia? What's wrong?*

*It's over.* I keep my mental voice steady. Clinical. *The ten-year pact is dead. I'm coming home.*

Silence. Then: *What happened?*

*It doesn't matter.* And it doesn't. Not anymore. *Initiate Protocol Seven. I want every shell company, every anonymous account, every silent partnership withdrawn. Freeze the assets. Cut the supply chains. I want it done quietly, but I want it done now.*

*Sofia—*

*Now, Langston.*

Another pause. Then: *Consider it done. I'll have the car there in forty-eight hours.*

*Thank you.*

I sever the link before he can ask more questions. Before the careful control in my voice can crack.

Then I sit on the edge of the narrow bed and stare at my hands. At the raw knuckles, the rogue's claw marks still healing on my forearm, the calluses from scrubbing marble floors.

Ten years. Ten years of sacrifice, of hiding, of building an empire in the shadows and laying it at his feet like an offering.

And he thinks I'm a spy.

Something cold and sharp settles in my chest. Not grief. Not anymore.

This is something else entirely.

This is the moment Sofia Sanders—the girl who loved a boy enough to give up everything—finally dies.

And in her place, the Lycan Princess begins to wake.