When My Groom’s Mistress Wore My Luna Gown

I drive back to Blood Moon territory with five metal boxes rattling in my trunk like accusations. Luna paces in my mind, a caged predator desperate to tear something apart. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles go white.

*We should go back. Rip his throat out. Make him bleed.*

My wolf's rage mirrors my own, but I force it down, swallow it like poison. If I let her take control now, if I storm into Iron Fang territory and attack their Alpha three days before our ceremony, it won't just destroy Jefferson. It'll destroy my father's reputation, our pack's standing, everything we've built.

No. This requires precision.

I pull over on a dark stretch of highway and dial Reese. She answers on the first ring.

"Saph? It's two in the morning. What's wrong?"

"I need you. Now. Meet me at the old vault beneath the packhouse. Don't tell anyone."

Silence. Then: "I'm already moving."

That's why she's my best friend. No questions, no hesitation. Just loyalty.

The vault sits deep beneath my father's packhouse, a reinforced room where we store our most valuable pack documents and artifacts. Reese is waiting when I arrive, her warrior instincts on full alert. She takes one look at my face and her expression hardens.

"Who do I need to kill?"

I almost laugh. Almost. Instead, I dump the boxes on the steel table between us. "Read."

Reese moves through the evidence with military efficiency, her jaw tightening with each letter, each photo. When she reaches the recent ones—Jefferson and Davina intertwined on a hotel balcony, his lips on her neck—she slams her fist on the table.

"That bastard. That absolute piece of—" She cuts herself off, breathing hard. "Saph, I'm so sorry."

"Don't." My voice comes out flat, emotionless. "I don't want sympathy. I want strategy."

Reese studies me, and I see the moment she understands. Her expression shifts from fury to something colder, more calculated. "What do you need?"

"Help me document everything. Photos, dates, scents. I want a timeline of every lie he's told me for the past decade."

We work in silence, organizing the evidence with methodical precision. Reese photographs each letter, each photo, creating digital backups while I catalog the physical items. My hands move automatically, but my mind races ahead, planning, calculating.

Then I see it.

In one of the recent photos, Davina's wrist catches the light. A silver bracelet, delicate and distinctive, with a crescent moon charm.

My breath stops.

I look down at my own wrist, at the bracelet Jefferson gave me two years ago. "To mask your scent from enemies," he'd said, fastening it around my wrist with such tenderness. "Custom-made, one of a kind. So you'll always be safe."

Identical. Down to the smallest detail.

The room tilts. Luna snarls, and this time I let her rage flood through me. Not one of a kind. Not custom. Just another lie, another way he played us both.

"Saph?" Reese's hand on my shoulder grounds me. "What is it?"

I hold up my wrist next to the photo. Watch her eyes widen as she makes the connection.

"He gave you matching bracelets." Her voice drops to a dangerous whisper. "He gave his secret Omega the same bracelet he gave his future Luna."

Something inside me crystallizes. The hurt, the betrayal, the humiliation—it all hardens into something sharp and cold and absolutely lethal.

"He thinks I'm stupid," I say quietly. "He thinks I'm just a pretty political pawn who'll smile and play her part while he gets everything he wants. The alliance. The territory. The wealth. And his precious Omega on the side."

Reese's expression turns predatory. "What are you going to do?"

I look at the evidence spread across the table. Ten years of deception, carefully documented. Three days until a ceremony that will be attended by every major Alpha and Luna in the region. Three days until Jefferson stands at the Moon Altar in front of hundreds of witnesses and promises to be mine forever.

"I'm going to give him exactly what he deserves," I say. "But first, I need to know what he's doing right now."

Reese pulls out her phone, fingers flying across the screen. Her connections in the warrior network span multiple packs. Thirty seconds later, she looks up.

"He's at the Crimson Lounge. VIP section. Celebrating with his inner circle—Beta Rory, Gamma Cole, and a few ranked wolves from Iron Fang." She pauses. "Celebrating the upcoming union and the 'massive wealth' it'll bring his pack."

Luna howls in my mind. The Crimson Lounge—a high-end establishment that caters to ranked wolves, where Alphas go to flaunt their power and status. He's there right now, drinking and laughing about how he's played me, how he's about to secure everything he wants.

I touch the silver bracelet on my wrist. Feel its weight, its lie.

"Keep monitoring him," I tell Reese. "I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he sees. Especially if Davina shows up."

Reese's smile turns sharp. "Consider it done."

I look at the evidence one more time, then back at my best friend. "This stays between us. No one else knows—not yet. When I destroy him, it needs to be perfect."

"Understood." Reese's loyalty radiates through her voice. "What's the play?"

I think about Jefferson at the Crimson Lounge, celebrating his victory before he's even won. Think about Davina, probably waiting for his call, dreaming of the day she'll finally be his Luna. Think about the ceremony in three days, all those witnesses, all that power and prestige on display.

And I smile.

"Patience," I say. "Let him celebrate. Let him think he's won. The higher he climbs, the harder he'll fall."