My Mate Tried to Kill Me

The crate of wine bottles dug into my palms as I stumbled after the other servants through the grand entrance of the Silver Lake Pack's ceremonial hall. My arms screamed in protest, muscles burning from the two-hour journey carrying supplies that should have been transported by cart. But Omegas didn't get carts. Omegas got splinters and contempt.

"Move faster, Anderson!" Beta Thomas's voice cracked like a whip behind me. "You think the Wedding of the Century waits for useless baggage?"

I bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste copper. Three years ago, he would have called me "Miss Estelle" and bowed his head. Now I was just Anderson—not even worth a first name.

The Silver Lake Pack's neutral territory was breathtaking, all marble columns and crystal chandeliers that caught the afternoon light like captured stars. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the beauty. Instead, all I could think about was how my worn servant's dress—gray and shapeless—looked against the opulent backdrop. How perfectly it advertised my fall from grace.

"Listen up." The head servant, a stern she-wolf with silver streaking her dark hair, gathered us in the service corridor. "This is the most important pack alliance in a decade. Shadow Creek Pack's Alpha is marrying Crescent Moon's true daughter. You will be invisible. You will be silent. You will not embarrass your packs." Her eyes landed on me with particular emphasis. "Some of you especially."

Heat crawled up my neck. Even here, hundreds of miles from home, my shame preceded me.

They handed me a tray of champagne flutes filled with golden liquid that probably cost more than I'd earn in a year. "Cocktail hour. Circulate. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't make eye contact with anyone above Delta rank."

I nodded, throat too tight for words.

The ballroom was a sea of elegant wolves in designer suits and silk gowns. Alphas from a dozen packs mingled, their powerful auras creating an almost visible pressure in the air. I kept my eyes down, my wolf whimpering softly inside me—she'd always been weak, barely able to manifest even when I'd been the Alpha's daughter. Now she was nearly silent, broken by years of searching for a mate who'd vanished without a trace.

I wove through the crowd, offering champagne with mechanical precision. Accept. Move. Repeat. Don't think. Don't feel. Don't remember that three years ago, I was supposed to be planning my own Mating Ceremony.

"More champagne here," someone called from near the raised platform where the ceremony would take place.

I turned, balancing my tray carefully as I approached. The groom stood with his back to me, surrounded by well-wishers. He was tall, broad-shouldered, commanding even in stillness. Something about the set of his shoulders made my breath catch, but I shoved the feeling down. Every Alpha looked the same from behind—powerful, untouchable, nothing to do with me.

"Excuse me," I murmured softly, extending the tray.

He turned.

The world stopped.

Kieran.

Those storm-gray eyes I'd known since childhood. The sharp jaw I'd traced with trembling fingers the night before our Mating Ceremony. The small scar above his left eyebrow from when we'd climbed too high in the old oak tree at age twelve.

Kieran Foster. My Kieran. My mate. My—

The mate bond, dormant and muted for three agonizing years, suddenly flared to life like someone had set my veins on fire. The champagne flutes began to rattle on the tray. My hands shook violently.

His eyes widened in recognition. But there was no joy. No relief. No love.

Only cold, burning hatred.

"No," I whispered. The tray slipped from my numb fingers.

Crystal exploded against marble. Champagne spread like a golden accusation across the pristine white floor. The conversation died as if someone had cut the strings of a puppet show.

Every eye in the room turned to me.

"You." Kieran's voice was barely recognizable—rough and cruel where it had once been warm. His Alpha aura slammed into me like a physical blow, driving me back a step. "You dare show your face here?"

My wolf curled into a ball of agony. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be missing. He was supposed to have been taken. He was supposed to—

"Kneel." The Alpha command in his voice left no room for resistance.

My knees hit the floor before I could stop them, glass shards biting through the thin fabric of my dress. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, but it was nothing compared to the devastation ripping through my chest.

"Three years," Kieran said, his voice carrying to every corner of the silent ballroom. "Three years of this traitorous filth pretending to be my mate. Pretending the Moon Goddess chose her." He kicked a large shard of glass toward me. It skittered across the marble, coming to rest near my bleeding knee. "Clean up your mess. With your hands. Maybe it'll teach you that some stains can never be washed away."

Somewhere in the crowd, I heard Ava's delicate gasp of shock, perfectly performed.

And I understood.

He hadn't been taken.

He'd chosen to leave.