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When My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Our Dying Pup Novel Cover

When My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Our Dying Pup

One year. Exactly one year since I held my daughter's lifeless body in my arms, watching her tiny chest cease to rise. The memory haunted me every day, but today it felt like a physical weight crushing my lungs. I stood outside Lawrence's office door, my hand trembling as I raised it to knock. The pack had been buzzing with activity all morning—preparations for some ceremony I hadn't been informed about. All I wanted was my mate. On this day of all days, I needed him to hold me, to acknowledge our loss, to remind me that I wasn't alone in my grief. "Alpha," I whispered when he opened the door. "Do you have a moment?" Lawrence's eyes flickered with something—annoyance? Guilt?—before his expression hardened into the cold mask he'd worn since our daughter died.
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Chapter 3

The first attack came through the mind-link three days after my imprisonment. I was curled on the narrow cot in my Omega cell, trying to sleep away the pain of Lawrence's betrayal, when suddenly voices flooded my head.

"Poor Luna Evie," Margaret's voice dripped with false sympathy. "So consumed by grief she couldn't even care for her own pup properly."

I sat bolt upright, my hands flying to my head. The mind-link was normally a blessing—a way for pack members to communicate across distances—but now it felt like poison seeping into my brain.

"I heard she neglected little Emma," Bella's voice joined in, her tone honey-sweet with malice. "Too busy with Luna duties to notice the poor thing was sick."

"That's right," Margaret continued. "A proper mother would have sensed her pup's distress. But Evie's wolf is so weak..."

I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to block the voices, but they only grew stronger. The pack's collective consciousness was turning against me, one whispered lie at a time.

"Did you see her at the ceremony?" Bella's voice again. "Completely unhinged. Accusing Lawrence of such terrible things."

"Her wolf went rabid after Emma died," Margaret replied. "Grief does terrible things to weak minds."

I screamed into my pillow, my body shaking with rage and despair. My wolf howled inside me, clawing desperately to reach the surface, to defend us against these lies.

---

The physical attacks began soon after.

"Omega trash," a Delta warrior sneered, shoving a tray of slop through the slot in my door. "Eat your filth like the rest of the omegas."

I ignored him, focusing instead on the small window near the ceiling of my cell. Through it, I could see a sliver of the night sky, the moon rising over the trees.

"Talking to yourself again?" Another voice, accompanied by laughter. "Just like a rabid wolf. No wonder your pup died."

My head snapped up, my eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't you dare speak of her."

The warrior grinned, enjoying my reaction. "They're saying you killed her yourself. That your wolf went crazy and—"

I lunged at the door, my body slamming against it with enough force to make it rattle in its frame. "I would die before harming my pup!"

The warrior jumped back, startled by my sudden movement, then laughed again. "See? Completely unhinged."

They left me alone after that, but the damage was done. Each visit brought new taunts, new accusations, each one cutting deeper than the last.

But something was changing inside me. My wolf, once subdued by grief, was growing stronger, more alert. She prowled restlessly within my consciousness, her instincts sharpening with each passing day.

*Something's wrong,* she whispered. *Our pup didn't just get sick.*

"What do you mean?" I asked aloud, my voice echoing in the empty cell.

*The scent. The timing. It wasn't natural.*

I closed my eyes, trying to remember that terrible day. The way Emma had suddenly collapsed, her small body convulsing. The strange, bitter smell in her room that I'd dismissed as medicine.

"It wasn't an illness," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "Someone did this to her."

---

I began watching the night patrol routes from my window. Three warriors, circling the packhouse in a predictable pattern. Every two hours, they passed beneath my window, their footsteps heavy on the damp earth.

"Alpha wants extra security around the medical wing," I heard one say as they passed beneath my window. "Something about sensitive research."

My heart raced. The medical wing—where Dr. Sarah kept all the pack's medical records. Including Emma's.

"Think the Luna was right?" another voice asked. "About the Alpha's new pup?"

"Shut up," the third warrior growled. "That's not our place to discuss."

I pressed my face against the cool glass, memorizing their route. Two hours between patrols. A fifteen-minute overlap when the shift changed.

My fingers traced the lock on my cell door. Basic mechanism. Easy to pick with the hairpin I'd kept hidden in my sock.

"You're planning something dangerous," my wolf warned, but there was approval in her voice.

"I need to know what really happened to Emma," I whispered back.

I watched the moon rise higher in the night sky, marking time. Soon, very soon, I would have my chance.

The medical records would tell me everything—what really killed my daughter, and who was responsible.

And when I found out, not even Lawrence's Alpha command would stop me from seeking justice.

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