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My Mate Poisoned Me to Steal My Birthright Novel Cover

My Mate Poisoned Me to Steal My Birthright

Betrayed by her fated mate, a werewolf princess faces a lethal poison as her lover conspires to seize her royal birthright. Left for dead by the one she trusted most, she narrowly survives the assassination attempt. Now, she must navigate a dangerous path of recovery and revenge to reclaim her stolen throne. In a world of shifting loyalties and ancient pack laws, she fights to expose the traitor and secure her rightful place as the true leader.
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Chapter 3

The pack run was scheduled for dawn.

Kane announced it at breakfast, all Alpha authority and easy confidence. "Full warrior formation. We need to tighten our perimeter drills before the Summit." His eyes found mine across the table. "You should rest, Athena. You've been looking pale."

"I think I will." I pressed my fingers to my temple, let my hand tremble just slightly. "The headaches are getting worse."

Concern flickered across his face. Genuine-looking. Oscar-worthy. "Maybe you should see Dr. Cross today. Just to be safe."

"Maybe."

Wren caught my eye from her position near the door. The barest nod. She understood.

Two hours later, I was standing in the Luna suite screaming at the housekeeping staff.

"I can smell them!" I grabbed fistfuls of the curtains, yanking hard enough that the rings scraped against the rod. "Enemies. Rogues. Someone's been in here, touching my things, leaving their scent everywhere!"

Mrs. Chen, the head housekeeper, held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Luna, I assure you, no one unauthorized has—"

"Then explain this!" I shoved my face into the fabric, inhaling dramatically. "It's everywhere. In the walls. In the sheets. You need to strip everything. Deep clean. Now."

The staff exchanged glances. Worried. Pitying.

Perfect.

While they scrambled to gather cleaning supplies, while every Omega in the pack house converged on the Luna suite with buckets and brushes, Wren was three floors down, moving through Kane's office like smoke.

She told me later how easy it was. How the pack run had pulled every warrior to the northern border. How the office door wasn't even locked because Kane was so confident, so arrogant, so certain that his fragile little Luna was too broken to be a threat.

The listening device went under the desk, magnetic backing adhering to the metal support beam with a soft click. Military grade. Voice-activated. Encrypted signal that fed directly to the burner phone in Wren's jacket.

Skyla's quarters took longer. The Omega wing was busier, more eyes, more risk. But Wren had always been the best at moving unseen. She slipped in during the shift change, when the hallways emptied for thirty seconds. The device went behind the headboard, nestled in the gap between wood and wall where no one would think to look.

By the time the pack run ended, Wren was back in the training room, and I was surrounded by stripped furniture and the chemical smell of industrial cleaner.

Kane found me there, sitting on the bare mattress, staring at nothing.

"Athena." He crouched in front of me, took my hands. His touch made my skin crawl, but I didn't pull away. "Mrs. Chen told me what happened. Are you okay?"

"I don't know." I let my voice crack. "I keep smelling things that aren't there. Hearing things. I think—I think something's wrong with me."

His thumb stroked over my knuckles. Soothing. Loving. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Liar.

That evening, Wren and I sat in the panic room with the burner phone between us, volume low, listening.

Static first. Then footsteps. A door closing.

Skyla's voice, petulant and sharp: "How much longer do we have to wait? She's falling apart faster than we planned. What if she breaks before the Summit?"

"She won't." Kane's voice was closer to the microphone, probably sitting at his desk. "I need the Council to see it happen in real time. Once she shifts at the Summit, the Council will have no choice but to grant me the Bishop lands. She'll be locked in the asylum by Monday."

The asylum.

My hands clenched into fists so tight my nails drew blood from my palms.

Wren's eyes flashed gold, but she stayed silent, listening.

"And us?" Skyla again, softer now. Seductive. "When do we make it official?"

"After the rejection. After the transfer of territory. Then you'll be Luna, and no one will question it."

The sound of kissing. Movement. I forced myself to keep listening, to not rip the phone apart with my bare hands.

Wren reached over and stopped the recording. "We have him."

"Not yet." I stood, pacing the small room. "We need more. Financial records. Proof of the rogue dealings. This is conspiracy, but we need treason."

"And the medical report?"

I checked my watch. "Dr. Cross is coming in an hour."

Wren's expression darkened. "You're really going through with it?"

"I have to." I pulled the small vial from my pocket. Wolfsbane extract, diluted just enough to hurt without killing. "If the medical file is completely clean, Kane will know something's wrong. I need to give him what he expects."

"Athena—"

"I can handle it."

I couldn't handle it.

The wolfsbane hit my system like liquid fire. I'd taken it an hour before Dr. Cross arrived, thinking I could manage the pain, control the symptoms.

I was wrong.

It burned through my veins like acid, like something alive and vicious trying to claw its way out through my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, too fast, too hard. Sweat soaked through my shirt. My wolf thrashed inside me, panicked and confused, trying to heal damage I'd deliberately inflicted.

Dr. Cross took my pulse with cold fingers and smiled.

"Elevated heart rate. Significant agitation. Pupils dilated." She made notes on her tablet, each tap of her stylus feeling like a nail in a coffin. "Early signs of feral degeneration, I'm afraid. We'll need to monitor this closely."

"What does that mean?" I forced the words out through clenched teeth.

"It means, Luna, that your wolf is becoming unstable." She packed up her equipment with brisk efficiency. "I'll be recommending increased supervision. For your own safety, of course."

She left.

I made it to the bathroom before I vomited, my body trying to purge the poison I'd willingly swallowed.

Wren found me there twenty minutes later, shaking on the tile floor.

"I got it," I whispered. "The false diagnosis. Evidence of malpractice."

Wren pulled me into her arms, and for just a moment, I let myself break.

But only for a moment.

Because tomorrow, we'd start gathering the financial records.

And by the Summit, Kane Montgomery would have nothing left to stand on.

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