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My Mate Used Me to Build His Pack Empire Novel Cover

My Mate Used Me to Build His Pack Empire

For two long years, Peyton poured her heart into the Ironridge territory, mapping out its future late into the night. But when her Alpha mate, Ryan, returns past midnight with a hollow greeting and a dismissive half-smile, she cannot ignore the rising dread. Confronting his evasive attitude about the summit, Peyton must face a devastating realization: her deep devotion and love are nothing more than stepping stones for his ruthless ambition.
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Chapter 2

Ryan announced the joint training session at breakfast three days after I found the scent-blockers.

"Silvercrest's arriving Friday," he said, buttering toast like he was discussing weather. "Khloe wants to demonstrate our alliance strength. You'll oversee formations with her, Peyton. Luna to Alpha. Good optics."

I nodded. Kept my face smooth. "Of course."

My mark pulsed once under my collar. A warning I had learned to recognize.

I smiled at him across the table and thought about optics.

---

Friday morning came cold and bright. The south training grounds filled early — Ironridge's warriors assembling in their standard formation, deltas flanking the perimeter, gammas positioned at the center. Over a hundred wolves in total, waiting.

I stood at the edge of the field in my Luna jacket — dark grey, Ironridge's crest stitched across the shoulder — and watched the tree line.

Khloe Spencer arrived exactly on time.

She stepped out of the black SUV first, and her Alpha aura rolled across the grounds like a weather system. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Her dark hair pulled back tight enough to make her cheekbones look like weapons. She wore Silvercrest's silver and black, and she moved through our territory like she already owned the deed.

Behind her, thirty Silvercrest warriors filed into formation. Disciplined. Silent. Their eyes tracked me once, dismissed me, and locked on Ryan.

Khloe's scent hit me before she crossed the halfway line. Jasmine. Amber. The exact signature I had been smelling on Ryan's jacket for two weeks.

My wolf went very, very still.

Ryan stepped forward to greet her. They clasped forearms the way Alphas do — formal, brief, calculated. But I saw the way her thumb brushed the inside of his wrist. I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly when her scent wrapped around him.

I stood ten feet away and cataloged it all.

Khloe turned to address the assembled warriors without acknowledging me. Not a nod. Not a glance. She spoke directly to the formation as though the Luna overseeing this training ground simply was not present.

"Ironridge," she said, her voice pitched to carry. "Silvercrest is honored to train beside you. Let's make this alliance mean something."

A few warriors nodded. Most stayed silent. I felt their eyes flick toward me — waiting for me to assert my rank, to step in, to do what a Luna does when a visiting Alpha walks into her territory and pretends she is invisible.

I did not move.

I had a plan. And the plan required Ryan to believe I was already broken.

So I smiled. Thin and polite. I gestured toward the formation markers I had set up at dawn. "Shall we begin?"

Khloe's mouth curved. Not a smile. Something colder.

---

The drills started clean. I called formations from the eastern ridge — flanking positions designed to funnel an attacking force into a bottleneck where our warriors could collapse from three sides. Standard tactics. Textbook execution. I had run this exact drill forty times with Ironridge's deltas, and they moved through it like water.

Khloe watched from the center of the field. Arms crossed. Silent.

Then, halfway through the second rotation, she stepped forward and raised her voice.

"Stop."

The warriors froze. A hundred wolves mid-stride, caught between commands.

Khloe walked slowly toward my position on the ridge. Her boots crunched gravel. Her Alpha aura pushed against mine — not subtle, not polite, just raw pressure designed to make a lower-ranked wolf step back.

I held my ground.

She stopped three feet from me and spoke loud enough for every wolf on the field to hear.

"Your flanking positions are amateur, Luna." She said my title like it was a joke. "You are funneling warriors into a killzone with no rear coverage and no escape route. No wonder Ironridge needed Silvercrest's protection."

Silence dropped across the training grounds like a stone into water.

I felt every warrior's eyes on me. Waiting. Watching to see if their Luna would defend her strategy or fold under a visiting Alpha's contempt.

I kept my voice calm. Even. I gestured toward the terrain map I had mounted on the ridge. "The flanking positions account for the eastern slope gradient and the forest density at the bottleneck. Rear coverage is provided by gamma units positioned here and here. The formation is designed for this specific terrain. If you would like to review the data—"

"I don't need to review anything." Khloe stepped closer. Close enough that her jasmine-and-amber scent flooded my senses, thick and deliberate. Close enough that I could see the faint smugness in her eyes. "You're dismissed, Luna. The Alphas will handle this."

My wolf snarled inside my chest. Not at Khloe. At the hundred warriors standing in formation who did not move. Did not speak. Did not defend the Luna who had trained half of them personally.

I opened my mouth to respond.

Khloe's hand connected with my face before I could say a word.

The slap cracked across the training grounds like a gunshot.

My head snapped to the side. Pain bloomed hot and sharp across my cheekbone. My vision blurred for half a second, then cleared.

Complete silence.

One hundred wolves. Not one of them moved.

I straightened slowly. My cheek throbbed. I tasted copper where I had bitten the inside of my mouth. I turned my head back toward Khloe and met her eyes.

She smiled.

Then, with theatrical deliberateness, she reached up and adjusted her collar. The fabric slid down just enough to expose the pendant resting against her collarbone.

Moonstone. Custom-cut. Set in silver filigree that matched — exactly, unmistakably — the mating collar Ryan wore around his neck.

I stared at it for three precise seconds. Memorized the design. The chain. The way the stone caught the light. The shade of triumph in Khloe's eyes as she let me see it.

Ownership. Declared before witnesses.

I lowered my head.

Every wolf on the field read it as submission.

I let them.

Then I turned and walked off the training grounds without looking back. My boots crunched gravel. My cheek burned. My mark throbbed cold and nauseating under my collar.

Behind me, I heard Khloe's voice resume command. Heard the warriors fall back into formation. Heard Ryan say nothing.

I walked all the way to the pack house. Climbed the stairs to my office. Closed the door.

I sat down at my desk. Pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. And I began to write.

Not one wolf had moved to defend me.

Good.

I did not need their loyalty anymore.

I needed their silence.

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