My Mate Protected His Mistress, Let Me Die

The full moon ceremony preparations always brought out the worst in Ava.

I stood in the pack house's ceremonial hall, arranging white lilies in crystal vases alongside the other unmated she-wolves. The Omegas chattered nervously around me, their hands fumbling with ribbons and candles as they prepared for tonight's run. In my past life, I would have been desperately trying to make everything perfect, hoping Damian would notice my efforts.

Now, I just wanted to get through this without incident.

"Oh, Chloe." Ava's voice dripped with false sweetness as she glided into the hall, her fingers trailing along the decorated tables. "Still stuck on flower duty? How... quaint."

I didn't look up. My hands remained steady as I adjusted a lily stem, my face carefully blank.

The Omegas fell silent, their eyes darting between us like spectators at an execution. They were waiting for the show—waiting for me to break down, to scream, to finally snap under the weight of being the mate no one acknowledged.

Ava moved closer, and that's when I saw it.

A moonstone necklace hung around her throat, the pale gem catching the afternoon light and scattering it across her collarbone. It was exquisite—ancient pack heirloom quality, the kind of gift an Alpha gave to his chosen Luna. The kind of gift Damian had never given me in three years of being mated.

"Do you like it?" Ava's hand rose to caress the stone, her movements deliberately sensual. "Damian surprised me with it this morning. He said the moonstone reminded him of my eyes under the full moon. Isn't that romantic?"

She tilted her head, exposing more of the necklace, more of the scent-marked skin beneath it. In my peripheral vision, I saw the Omegas holding their breath, waiting for my reaction.

In my past life, this moment had destroyed me. I had screamed at her, tears streaming down my face, while she'd smiled that victorious smile. Damian had arrived to find me hysterical and Ava crying, claiming I'd attacked her out of jealousy. He'd believed her, of course. He always did.

I set down the lily I was holding and reached for another one.

"It's lovely," I said, my voice perfectly calm. "The white flowers complement it nicely, don't you think?"

Ava's smile faltered. Just for a second, but I caught it—that flash of confusion, of frustration that her weapon had missed its mark.

"That's... that's all you have to say?" Her voice rose slightly, the sweet facade cracking. "Your mate gave me an heirloom necklace, and you're talking about flowers?"

I finally looked at her, meeting her eyes with the dead calm of someone who had already lost everything once. "What would you like me to say, Ava? Would a scene make you feel better?"

The Omegas gasped softly. One of them dropped a candle.

Ava's face flushed red, her fingers tightening around the moonstone. "I don't know what game you're playing, but—"

"I'm not playing anything." I turned back to my flowers, dismissing her as easily as she'd dismissed my pain for three years. "I'm just doing my duty to the pack. Isn't that what we're all here for?"

I felt her fury radiating across the space between us, hot and desperate. But I didn't give her the satisfaction of looking up again. After a long, tense moment, her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she stormed out.

The Omegas stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

Let them stare. Let them all wonder what had changed.

That evening, as the full moon rose over the Silvermoon territory, the pack gathered for the ceremonial run. Wolves of all ranks shifted under the silver light, their howls echoing through the forest as ancient instincts took over.

I hung back from the front lines, my white wolf keeping to the shadows while the ranked members led the charge. In my past life, I had always tried to run beside Damian, desperate to prove I belonged at his side.

Now, I knew better.

Through the dense trees ahead, I caught flashes of movement—two wolves, larger than the others, their bodies pressed close in a way that had nothing to do with the ceremonial run.

Damian's massive black wolf, unmistakable in his Alpha dominance.

And Ava's sleek gray form, rubbing against him with possessive intimacy.

I watched through the branches as his wolf nuzzled her neck, as she rolled onto her back in submission—the kind of submission a mate offered, the kind I had never been allowed to give because he couldn't "recognize my scent properly."

The lie of it all should have broken me.

Instead, I felt nothing but cold clarity.

I turned away, my paws silent on the forest floor as I padded in the opposite direction. There was no dramatic confrontation, no howl of betrayal. Just a quiet, deliberate choice to walk away from something that had never truly been mine.

Behind me, I felt rather than heard the moment Damian's wolf went still.

Something shifted in the bond between us—a sharp, inexplicable pang that made his wolf's head snap up, searching for a scent that was already fading into the night.

But I didn't look back.

I was done looking back.

The forest grew quieter as I moved toward the border territories, away from the main pack run. The other wolves' howls became distant echoes, and for the first time in three years, I felt something close to peace.

Then the night exploded into chaos.

Snarls erupted from the direction I'd just left—feral, wrong, carrying the distinctive stench of rogues who had lost their humanity to madness. The pack's ceremonial howls turned into warning cries as the border breach alarm shattered the moonlit calm.

My wolf's instincts screamed at me to run toward my pack, to help defend the territory.

But I forced myself to move carefully, strategically, back through the trees.

I emerged into a small clearing just as the defensive line broke.

A massive rogue, easily twice the size of a normal wolf, crashed through the undergrowth with foam dripping from its jaws. Its red eyes locked onto the clearing ahead—where two she-wolves stood frozen in their human forms, having just shifted back.

Ava, still wearing that moonstone necklace.

And me, standing less than ten feet away from her.

The rogue's muscles bunched as it prepared to lunge.

And in that split second, I knew exactly what was about to happen—because I had lived this moment before, in a different time, in a different way.

Damian would have to choose which one of us to save.