After My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Me

I woke with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs as if trying to escape. The familiar walls of my Omega quarters came into focus—the thin mattress, the single window letting in a sliver of moonlight, the worn wooden floor I'd scrubbed countless times. But something was wrong. No, something was exactly right. My lungs filled with the scent of night air, pine, and something else—something that made my wolf, Lyra, stir uneasily within me.

I knew this night. I'd lived through it once before, and I'd died because of it.

*Remember*, Lyra whispered in my mind, her voice urgent. *Remember everything.*

I pressed my thumb hard into my palm, grounding myself as I looked at the calendar on my wall. The date glared back at me in cruel black ink—the night of Aidan's poisoning. The night I'd sacrificed everything to save him, only to be discarded like trash.

The mate pull tugged at me—that familiar, magnetic force that had kept me tethered to Aidan for a decade. In my previous life, I'd followed it blindly to his quarters, pushed open the door, and offered myself as the vessel to draw out the rogue poison. I'd felt noble, selfless. I'd felt needed.

But now, as my feet moved toward his wing of the pack house, I stopped myself in the dimly lit hallway. I could still smell the poison—a sickly-sweet undertone in the air—and I knew what came next. Melina would be making her way to his quarters right now, scheming, planning.

I turned a corner and there she was—Melina Henderson, her honey-blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight, her steps quick and purposeful. She froze when she saw me, her practiced smile faltering for just a moment before snapping back into place.

"Ashlyn, what a surprise," she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. "I was just heading to check on Aidan. I heard he wasn't feeling well."

In my first life, I'd let her pass. I'd even helped her, believing her concern was genuine. What a fool I'd been.

"Actually," I said, my voice steadier than I expected, "I think you should go to him now. He needs you."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she recovered quickly. "Oh, I couldn't possibly intrude—"

"It's no intrusion," I cut her off, stepping aside and gesturing toward his door. "He's waiting for you."

Something flickered in her eyes—satisfaction, triumph—before she masked it with concern. "Well, if you insist..."

She brushed past me, her shoulder deliberately knocking into mine as she slipped into his room. I watched her go, feeling nothing but cold clarity. As the door closed behind her, I reached out and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

Then, with deliberate focus, I closed my eyes and imagined a thread—the mate bond that had tied me to Aidan since I was sixteen. In my mind, I took hold of my end and severed it with a single, decisive cut. The pain was immediate and searing, but I welcomed it. It was the price of freedom.

Lyra howled in protest, the bond hurting her too, but I held firm. *We deserve better*, I told her. *We deserve to choose.*

I turned away from the door, from the night that had once destroyed me, and walked back to my quarters with my head held high. For the first time in ten years, I belonged to no one but myself.

The neutral zone stretched before me like a promise of freedom, but it felt more like purgatory with each passing day. Three days had passed since I'd severed my mate bond with Aidan and fled Silvermoon Pack. Three days of sleeping under stars instead of a roof, of hunting my own food, of constantly watching over my shoulder. My body ached from exhaustion, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest where the bond had been.

Lyra whimpered inside me, still adjusting to the severed connection. *We're stronger than this pain*, I reminded her, though my voice felt unconvincing even in my own mind.

The forest grew denser as I moved further from Silvermoon territory, the trees twisting into grotesque shapes that seemed to reach for me with gnarled branches. The moon hung low and heavy, casting long shadows that danced at the edges of my vision. I pressed my thumb into my palm, grounding myself as I had so many times before.

That's when I caught it—a scent that made Lyra's hackles rise. Rogue wolves. Not just one or two, but a small pack of them, their musky odor carried on the night wind.

*Run*, Lyra urged, but I was too late.

They emerged from the darkness like shadows given form—five of them, their eyes gleaming with hunger and something worse. I backed against a tree, my heart hammering as they circled me, their growls vibrating through the clearing.

"Well, well," the largest one snarled, his voice thick with cruel amusement. "A lone female. And by the smell of it, a rejected mate."

I raised my chin, refusing to show fear. "I'm not looking for trouble."

One of them laughed, a harsh sound that scraped against my nerves. "Trouble found you anyway, little Omega."

They closed in, and I knew I was outmatched. My wolf was fast, but not fast enough for five rogues. I tensed, preparing to fight anyway—to go down swinging rather than cowering.

A deafening roar split the night, and suddenly the air filled with the scent of pine and winter frost. The rogues froze, their heads snapping toward the sound.

A massive charcoal wolf burst into the clearing, his amber eyes blazing with cold fury. He moved with lethal precision, a blur of muscle and teeth that tore through the rogues' formation. I watched in stunned silence as he took down two of them in seconds, his jaws snapping with calculated force.

The others scattered, yipping in terror, but the charcoal wolf was already turning toward me. He shifted, and suddenly Jeremy Willis stood before me, his bare chest heaving, moonlight gleaming on his skin.

"Ashlyn?" His voice was rough, confused. "What are you doing out here alone?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words died in my throat as our eyes met. Inside me, Lyra suddenly surged forward, her presence flooding my consciousness with a warmth I hadn't felt in days. Across from me, Jeremy's wolf—Calder—emerged in his amber eyes, and I saw the moment he recognized Lyra.

It wasn't the mate bond's magnetic pull. It was something older, deeper. A recognition that needed no words.

"You're hurt," he said softly, his gaze taking in my torn clothes, the bruises on my arms.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He took a careful step toward me, his hands raised to show he meant no harm. "But you will be. I promise you that."

Lyra pushed against my consciousness, urging me to trust him. *He's safe*, she insisted. *He's always been safe.*

I wanted to resist, to maintain the walls I'd built, but I was so tired. So broken.

"Why would you help me?" I whispered.

Jeremy's expression softened, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the boy I'd known years ago. "Because you're Ashlyn," he said simply. "And I've never stopped—"

He caught himself, but the unspoken words hung between us. Instead, he extended his hand. "Let me take you somewhere safe. Moonveil territory is just beyond those hills."

I hesitated for only a moment before placing my hand in his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.

Back at Silvermoon Pack, Aidan stepped out of his car, Melina clinging to his arm as they returned from their fabricated Luna honeymoon. His wolf paced restlessly, an unfamiliar unease settling in his chest. He ignored it, confident that Ashlyn would be waiting in her quarters, ready to grovel for his forgiveness.

He strode to her door and pushed it open without knocking. The room beyond was empty, stripped of all traces of her presence. Her scent was gone, as if she'd never existed.

"Ashlyn?" he called, his voice echoing in the silence.

His wolf howled in sudden, inexplicable panic, and Aidan felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, irreversibly wrong.