My Mate Poisoned Me for His Mistress

Morning arrived with the muffled thud of drums echoing through the floorboards.

Downstairs, the Ironveil great hall was packed to the rafters. I could feel them through the floor—hundreds of wolves, their presence buzzing in the air like an electric wire.

Silvercrest had arrived with Alpha Darian Cole at the lead, his warriors smelling of clean river stone and mountain pine. Three neighboring packs filled the side galleries. Elders sat in high wooden seats. Warriors lined the stone walls, shoulders back, while Omegas crowded near the rear pillars.

Cash was already working the room. Even from my recovery room behind the stage, I could hear his voice drifting through the cracks in the door. Smooth. Strong. Broken just enough to sound noble.

"Thank you, brother," Cash murmured to someone. I recognized the faint clink of ceremonial silver. "She fought hard to be here today. She wanted to see our packs united."

A ripple of sympathetic murmurs followed him wherever he walked. He was playing the devastated, devoted Alpha to perfection.

Across the hall, sitting in the front row of the guest gallery, was Aubrey. She wore a deep emerald dress, her spine straight, her chin tilted high. She didn't look like a Beta-assistant. She looked like someone watching the final scene of a play she had written herself. But even beneath her heavy rose perfume, my sharpened senses caught the lingering scent on her neck—the raw, sour musk of Cash’s claiming bite, hidden under a high lace collar.

Near the kitchen exit, Healer Vance hovered in the shadows, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He kept shifting his weight, eyes darting to the back door, waiting for his cue.

Two young Omegas entered my room, keeping their heads low as they approached my bed. They didn't speak. They gently lifted me onto a heavy wooden stretcher, draping a velvet blanket over my legs.

My body remained slack. My head rolled gently against the pillow, eyes half-lidded, breath shallow and weak.

*Good,* my wolf whispered from the dark, her voice cold and steady. *Let them all gather. I need every single one of them to watch.*

The heavy double doors swung open.

The low roar of the crowd died down to an instant, suffocating hush.

The two warriors carrying the stretcher marched onto the elevated stone dais. Thousands of eyes locked onto me. A collective breath caught in the room. I saw older she-wolves press hands to their mouths, tears welling in their eyes at the sight of their "broken Luna."

They transferred me into the ceremonial seat—a massive, high-backed chair draped in white winter-wolf pelts. My limbs fell limp against the fur. I looked like a ghost wrapped in silk.

Cash stepped up onto the platform.

He wore his formal black Alpha jacket, the Ironveil silver crest pinned over his heart. His hair was neat, his jaw set in a line of solemn grief. He looked like a king about to sacrifice his heart for his people.

In the front row, Alpha Darian Cole leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. A heavy leather folder sat on his lap. It was the Silvercrest alliance treaty, already drawn up, waiting only for Cash’s vows to be sealed before the ink touched paper.

Cash turned to the crowd, then reached down and took my right hand.

His fingers closed around mine. His grip was tight, his thumb pressing hard against my knuckles in a silent, threatening squeeze. A warning to stay quiet.

He raised his free hand to the ceiling, projecting his voice across the stone hall.

"Members of Ironveil! Brothers of the Silvercrest alliance!" Cash’s voice rang out, rich and commanding. "We stand before the Moon Goddess today not in sorrow, but in reverence. We honor the mate who took the blade meant for her Alpha. We honor the bloodline that anchors this territory."

The crowd stared, completely captivated.

Cash turned slightly, looking down at my lifeless face. His eyes were flat, completely dead behind the rehearsed sheen of moisture. He began the binding invocation.

"By the blood in our veins and the earth beneath our paws," Cash chanted, his Alpha tone vibrating through the hall, rich with hypnotic power. "I bind my breath to yours. I take your strength into my pack. Before these witnesses, I declare our spirits—"

He was four lines away from the binding clause.

Right then, the ice in my marrow detonated.

It didn't hurt. It didn't burn. It cracked open like an ancient vault.

My back arched violently off the white fur.

A sharp, collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.

Cash faltered, his words stumbling mid-sentence. His grip on my hand tightened until my bones ground together, his jaw clenching as he tried to force my wrist down.

"Be still," he hissed under his breath, his eyes flashing a warning. He raised his voice, shouting over the rustle of the crowd to force the ceremony forward: *"I declare our spirits bound by ancient—"*

Another violent convulsion tore through me.

My head snapped back. The sound that ripped from my throat was not a woman’s scream. It was not the weak rattle of a dying wolf.

It was a growl.

It started low, vibrating through my ribs, then swelled into a deep, guttural roar that rattled the stone beneath our feet. The heavy iron chandeliers above the dais shook, their glass crystals chiming against each other.

The entire hall froze. Alpha Darian stood up from his seat, the treaty slipping from his fingers.

Cash’s face twisted in rage. He drew in a massive breath, his chest expanding as he unleashed his full Alpha tone, an absolute, crushing command to force my wolf into submission:

**"ZURI, SUBMIT!"**

The command tore through the air—and was instantly swallowed whole.

Not answered. Not defied. Simply erased.

A deafening crack split the dais as the white-hot current in my veins erupted. My fingers snapped shut around Cash’s wrist, crushing his bone until the joint gave way with a sickening crunch.