When My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Our Dying Pup

The Omega quarters were silent save for the occasional drip of water somewhere in the darkness. I sat on the edge of my cot, Emma's medical file hidden beneath my thin mattress, when I heard footsteps approaching. Heavy, deliberate steps that made the floor beneath me vibrate.

My wolf stirred within me, instantly alert. *He's coming.*

The door swung open without warning, and Lawrence filled the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking out what little light filtered through the corridor. His scent—pine and winter frost, once so comforting—now made my stomach turn.

"Evie," he said, his voice softer than I'd heard it in months. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The small room suddenly felt suffocating.

I remained seated, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. "What do you want, Lawrence?"

He moved closer, his Alpha pheromones filling the space between us like a physical touch. I felt my wolf respond involuntarily, the mate bond still pulling at us despite everything.

"I came to make you an offer," he said, crouching before me so our eyes were level. His gaze was intense, searching mine for any sign of weakness. "I miss you, Evie."

"Don't," I warned, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Don't pretend this is about anything other than damage control."

His expression hardened slightly, but he pressed on. "I'm willing to restore your Luna title."

I laughed, the sound harsh in the small room. "How generous."

"You would have everything you had before," he continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. I flinched away from his touch. "Your position, your quarters, your status."

"And what do you want in return?" I asked, though I already knew.

His eyes flickered to my flat stomach before returning to my face. "You would help raise Alexander as your own."

The name hit me like a physical blow. Alexander. He'd named the boy Alexander.

"Your mistress's son," I clarified, my voice ice-cold. "The one born the day our daughter died."

Lawrence's jaw tightened. "He's my son and heir. The pack needs stability."

"And what about Emma?" I demanded, rising to my feet despite the cramped space. "Did she get what she needed?"

Something flickered across his face—guilt, perhaps, or irritation at being questioned. "Emma's death was tragic, but—"

"But convenient?" I cut him off, my wolf surging forward with a growl. "Convenient timing for your new heir?"

His Alpha aura flared, filling the room with pressure that made my knees weak. "You will not speak of my son that way."

"Your son," I repeated, emphasizing the words. "Not our daughter."

Lawrence moved closer, his hand gripping my chin firmly. "Accept this offer, Evie. Be smart. You're still my mate—we can make this work."

I met his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "And if I refuse?"

His eyes darkened. "Then you'll remain here, forgotten by the pack. Your name will be erased from our records. No one will remember that you were ever Luna."

"Except you," I whispered. "You'll never forget what you did to us."

Something snapped in his expression—a momentary crack in his composed facade. "I did what was necessary to protect this pack!"

"From what?" I pressed, sensing weakness. "From the truth about what really happened to Emma?"

His hand tightened on my chin. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" I leaned forward, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Wolfsbane poisoning, Lawrence. Highly concentrated, laboratory-grade wolfsbane."

The color drained from his face so quickly I thought he might faint. His pupils dilated, and for just a moment, raw panic flashed across his features before he regained control.

"Where did you hear that?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "What matters is that you knew. You covered it up to protect whoever was really responsible."

He released me abruptly, stepping back as if burned. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I found her medical file," I said, watching his face carefully. "I know what killed our daughter."

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us like a chasm. Then Lawrence's expression hardened into something cold and unrecognizable.

"You should be careful with accusations like that," he warned. "Some truths are better left buried."

"Like your mother's involvement?" I challenged, taking a step toward him. "Was it worth it, Lawrence? Protecting her secret while our daughter's death went unavenged?"

His eyes widened fractionally—just enough to confirm my worst fears.

"You knew," I whispered, the final piece falling into place. "You knew all along."