Stole My Heir for His Mistress: I Shattered His Pack and Crowned the Rival

"These are the border logs," Siena announced, her voice ringing off the stone walls of the council chamber.

She slammed a thick stack of parchment onto the center of the long oak table. The loud smack echoed against the high ceiling, silencing the murmurs of the gathered pack elders.

"What is this?" I asked, keeping my spine completely rigid.

My knees locked. The extreme stiffness in my joints was the only thing stopping my legs from violently shaking. I stood at the opposite end of the mahogany table, facing my husband and the woman he had chosen to replace me.

"Proof," Siena replied. She leaned over the polished wood, tapping a manicured nail against the top page. "Proof that our Luna has been selling patrol routes to the rogue camps."

"You're lying," I said.

"The ink doesn't lie," Elder Thorne muttered from his seat on the left.

"Show me," I demanded, stepping toward the table.

Caleb raised a hand. His golden eyes locked onto mine, completely devoid of the man I married. "Stay exactly where you are, Elara."

"He doesn't need to show you anything," Siena taunted, crossing her arms. "The transit letters have your seal on them. You gave the rogues safe passage through the western ridge."

"I haven't been to the western ridge in six months!" I shouted, the injustice burning my throat. "Caleb, look at the dates. Look at the handwriting. It's an obvious forgery."

Caleb didn't look at the letters. He didn't even glance at the stack Siena had so dramatically presented.

Instead, he reached for a fresh sheet of heavy parchment resting near his right hand. He picked up a black feather quill.

"Caleb?" I said, my voice dropping. "Read the letters. The wax seal is pressed crooked. I never stamp my correspondence like that."

"I have heard enough," he stated flatly.

He dipped the quill into the glass inkwell. The sharp scratching sound filled the silent room. He was signing his name at the bottom of the page.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Protecting my pack," he answered.

He finished his signature and pushed the parchment across the table. It slid directly in front of the pack's enforcer, a hulking man named Silas.

"A banishment order," Silas read aloud, his deep voice carrying absolutely no emotion. "Effective immediately."

A harsh, bitter laugh tore from my throat.

Elder Thorne flinched in his chair. Siena frowned, her smug expression faltering for a fraction of a second. It wasn't the sobbing plea they expected. It wasn't the desperate begging of a scorned mate.

"You didn't even read her fake evidence," I said, staring directly at Caleb. "You just needed an excuse."

"Treason requires immediate action," Caleb replied, his jaw tight.

"You want me gone so badly you'll frame me for treason?" I asked, shaking my head.

"You framed yourself by failing this pack," he shot back.

The last fragment of my broken heart stopped beating for him in that exact second. The crushing grief that had threatened to drown me in the hallway vanished. Pure, unadulterated survival instinct flooded my veins, icy and sharp.

I wrapped both arms tightly around my waist, shielding my lower abdomen. The crumpled ultrasound photo still sat in my pocket, a heavy reminder of what was truly at stake. I wasn't just fighting for my title anymore. I was fighting for the life growing inside me.

My absolute obedience to this pack, and to this Alpha, evaporated. Extreme hostility took its place.

"You are a coward," I told him.

Caleb stood up. His heavy oak chair scraped violently against the stone floor. "I am the Alpha."

"An Alpha protects his own," I sneered, the venom lacing every syllable. "You are just a male who found a new bedmate and lacked the spine to admit it to your council."

"Watch your mouth," Siena snapped, stepping closer to his side.

"Or what?" I challenged, cutting my eyes to her. "You'll forge another letter? Make me a murderer next?"

"Enough," Caleb commanded.

The Alpha tone vibrated through the floorboards, a heavy pressure meant to force me to my knees. I didn't bow. I didn't lower my chin. I met his golden stare with absolute defiance, my arms still locked protectively over my stomach.

"Execute the order, Silas," Caleb instructed, breaking our stare to look at the enforcer.

Silas picked up the signed parchment. "By law, a banished Luna must be marked. The pack seal must be burned from her flesh before she crosses the border."

"Then do it," Caleb said.

"You can't," I said, taking a step back toward the exit. "I am pregnant."

"You are a traitor," Caleb corrected, his face a mask of stone. "The law makes no exceptions for traitors."

"It's your pup!" I screamed, the words tearing out of me before I could stop them.

"It's a rogue's collateral now," Siena chimed in smoothly. She rested a hand on Caleb's forearm, her fingers stroking his skin. "She probably planned to sell the pup to them, too. It's the only reason she would suddenly claim to be pregnant today of all days."

I scanned the room. Elder Thorne looked away, studying the tapestries on the wall. The other elders kept their heads bowed. Silas rolled up the banishment order and tucked it into his belt.

No one was going to help me.

"I will not let you touch me," I declared, backing toward the heavy iron-wrought doors of the chamber.

"You don't have a choice," Caleb said. He gestured to Silas. "Restrain her."

Silas rounded the table, his heavy boots thudding against the stone.

Before I could reach the brass handle to flee, a deafening crash echoed directly behind me.

The massive council room doors were violently kicked open from the outside. The heavy wood slammed against the stone walls, shaking the entire frame of the entryway.

I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Gideon, the Chief Executioner, strode through the threshold. He wore thick leather apron and heavy gloves that reached all the way to his elbows.

In his right hand, he carried a long iron rod.

At the tip, the silver stripping brand glowed a blinding, furious red. The intense heat radiating off the metal immediately blistered the air between us, carrying the metallic scent of impending agony.

Gideon didn't look at Caleb. He didn't look at the elders. He fixed his dead eyes entirely on me.

"Hold her down," Gideon ordered.