On My Birthday, My Alpha Fed His Mistress

The drive back to the Pack House was silent, a suffocating vacuum where the air was thick with Keaton’s simmering rage. I sat in the passenger seat, my body radiating heat from the Shift Fever, but my mind was icy cold.

As soon as the heavy front doors clicked shut behind us, Keaton spun around. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't ask about the fever.

"You are hysterical," he spat, pacing the foyer floor like a caged animal. "Do you have any idea what you just did? Elder Thomas was upstairs! You shattered glassware like a feral rogue!"

I leaned against the wall to keep upright, the marble cool against my burning skin. "I shattered a glass because you were nuzzling your assistant's neck in public, Keaton."

"I was securing loyalty!" he roared, his voice bouncing off the high ceilings. He stepped into my personal space, looming over me with that borrowed Alpha authority I had bought for him. "Scarlet is vital to this pack. You, right now? You are a liability. You are jealous, ungrateful, and unstable."

Ungrateful. The word almost made me laugh. I had given him everything—my family's connections, my inheritance, my pride.

"I am your mate," I said, my voice low.

"Are you?" Keaton sneered, leaning down until his nose almost touched mine. "Because mates support their Alphas. They don't humiliate them. Listen to me closely, Valentina. Tomorrow, we are having a reconciliation lunch. You will apologize to Scarlet for ruining her business dinner. You will apologize to me for disrupting pack harmony."

He paused, letting the silence stretch before delivering the killing blow.

"If you don't," he whispered, his eyes dark and cruel, "then at the Pack Gathering on the full moon, I will publicly Reject you. I will cast you out, Valentina. And without my protection, a wolf who can't even shift is nothing."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. He thought he held the power of rejection. He had no idea that the only thing keeping his rank was my silence.

***

The next morning, the fever had settled into a dull, throbbing ache in my marrow. I dressed slowly, choosing a simple black dress that felt like mourning clothes. If Keaton wanted a performance, I would give him one.

I walked into the private dining room, expecting a quiet meal. Instead, the table was set for a feast. Roast duck, truffled potatoes, and bottles of vintage wine covered the mahogany surface.

And there, sitting in the high-backed chair to the right of the head of the table—the Luna’s chair—was Scarlet.

She looked up as I entered, her eyes wide and mocking. She was wearing a cashmere sweater that looked suspiciously like one Keaton had claimed was "lost in the laundry" last month.

"Ah, Valentina," Keaton said, not bothering to stand. He gestured vaguely with his wine glass toward the far end of the table, near the door. "Sit. You're late."

I looked at the empty chair at the foot of the table. The position reserved for guests. Or subordinates.

I didn't argue. I walked to the end of the table and sat, the distance between us feeling like a canyon.

"Now that we are all here," Keaton announced, slicing into his duck with precise, aggressive movements. "We need to discuss the upcoming Full Moon Festival. Since you are obviously too... sickly to handle the stress, Valentina, I’ve decided to reassign the planning duties."

He smiled at Scarlet. "Scarlet will be taking over the Luna duties for the festival. She has the energy for it. And the temperament."

Scarlet beamed, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. "I'm honored, Alpha. I've already got so many ideas for the decorations. Gold and crimson, I think."

She turned her gaze to me, her expression shifting into a mask of faux sympathy. "Don't worry, Miss Valentina. I know it must be hard for you, being so weak. Honestly, it’s for the best. Some wolves just aren't born to lead."

The silver fork in my hand bent under the pressure of my grip.

*Not born to lead.*

The irony was so sharp it drew blood. I looked at Keaton, who was watching me with expectant arrogance, waiting for me to bow my head and apologize as he had commanded.

My hand went to my throat. My fingers wrapped around the heavy silver pendant resting there—the Bishop family crest. The roaring lion entangled with ivy. It was the key to the vault. It was the symbol of the millions of dollars I had poured into this pack to fix their crumbling infrastructure, to buy their weapons, to feed their people.

It was the weight of my ancestors, hanging around my neck, choking me for the sake of a man who would replace me with a social climber in a stolen sweater.

"You're right, Scarlet," I said softly.

The room went quiet. Keaton smirked, thinking he had won.

"It is a heavy burden," I continued, my voice gaining strength, vibrating with the Alpha timbre I had suppressed for so long. "And it costs more than you could ever afford."

I yanked my hand down.

*SNAP.*

The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room. The silver chain broke, biting into the skin of my neck, but I didn't feel the pain. I felt liberation.

I stood up, the heavy silver crest clenched in my fist. Scarlet looked confused. Keaton looked wary.

"Valentina, sit down," Keaton warned.

I walked the length of the table, my steps echoing on the floorboards. I stopped right behind Scarlet. She smelled like cheap vanilla and deceit.

"You want my place?" I asked, staring down at her.

I opened my hand and dropped the heavy silver crest directly into her bowl of steaming lobster bisque.

*SPLASH.*

Hot, orange soup exploded outward, coating Scarlet’s face, her hair, and the stolen cashmere sweater. She shrieked, jumping up and knocking her chair over.

"My face! You crazy bitch!" she screamed, clawing at the mess.

Keaton slammed his hands on the table, rising to his feet. "Valentina! Have you lost your mind?"

I didn't flinch. I felt lighter than I had in years. The fever in my blood was no longer a sickness; it was fuel.

"If you want my life so bad," I said, my voice cold and steady, "take the responsibility that comes with it. I'm done paying for your delusions."

I turned on my heel and walked out of the dining room, leaving the screams of the mistress and the roar of the false Alpha behind me.