After My Alpha Slept with His Omega Mistress

The moment Dean's convoy disappeared down the winding mountain road, I felt the weight lift from my shoulders. Three days. Three precious days while he attended the pack leaders' summit, leaving me alone in the territory he thought he controlled. I waited until his scent faded completely before moving, my heart hammering against my ribs with anticipation and dread. Sable stirred within me, her amber eyes alert. *Now,* she whispered. *While the monster is away.*

The corridors of the Alpha's wing were eerily silent as I made my way to his private office. My Luna access card—the small privilege of my position—granted me entry to most areas of the pack house, but Dean's office had always been forbidden. Until now. I swiped the card, held my breath, and listened to the soft click of the lock disengaging. The door swung open silently, revealing the sanctum of the man who had marked me against my will.

His office smelled of him—pine and leather, with an undercurrent of something darker that made my skin crawl. I moved quickly, locating his personal server tucked beneath the massive oak desk. Dorian's device felt small and cold in my palm as I connected it to the server's port, my fingers trembling slightly.

'Forgive me, Father,' I whispered, though I knew he would never forgive what I was about to do. 'But I need to know the truth.'

The device hummed to life, its screen glowing with blue text as it bypassed the Alpha's biometric security. I held my breath, waiting for alarms, for someone to burst through the door. Nothing happened. Dorian's forensic expertise had created a ghost in the machine—invisible, undetectable.

The files appeared one by one, neatly organized in folders labeled with names. My blood ran cold as I recognized them: female pack members, arranged by rank. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for just a moment before I clicked on the first folder.

Senior Warrior Petra Hale's face filled the screen, her eyes closed in what should have been the sacred privacy of a healing session with Maren Voss. The video captured not just her physical form but the raw, emotional landscape of her mind—fears, hopes, and vulnerabilities laid bare without her knowledge. My stomach churned as I watched Dean's consciousness slip into her memories, extracting secrets that were never meant to be shared.

I clicked to the next folder, and my own face appeared. The footage was from just days ago, during a routine healing check after the marking ceremony. I watched myself lying on Maren's table, feeling the phantom sensation of Dean's mental touch as he rifled through my thoughts, searching for weaknesses, for leverage. Sable growled, a sound of pure rage that echoed my own feelings.

'He violated us all,' I whispered, my voice breaking in the silence. 'Every single one of us.'

I downloaded the files onto an encrypted drive, my hands shaking with a mixture of horror and resolve. This wasn't just betrayal—it was predation. Dean hadn't just cheated with Renata; he had systematically hunted the women of his own pack, preying on their trust and vulnerability.

I made my way to Dorian's lab, the drive burning a hole in my pocket. He was waiting, his face grim as he took in my expression. 'You found something,' he said. It wasn't a question.

'You have no idea,' I replied, placing the drive on his desk. 'He's been recording them. All of them. During healing sessions.'

Dorian's eyes widened as the files began to play on his secure monitor. We watched in silence, the evidence of Dean's depravity unfolding before us. With each new revelation, something inside me hardened, transforming the raw pain of betrayal into something colder, more precise.

When it was over, Dorian reached out, his thumb gently pressing against the inside of my wrist—right over my pulse, where I always pressed when suppressing strong emotions. The touch was grounding, steadying. 'Brynn,' he said softly, his voice carrying a weight I couldn't quite decipher.

'I'm going to destroy him,' I whispered, meeting his gaze. 'Not just for me. For all of them.'

In that moment, something shifted between us—a silent understanding, a promise. Dorian nodded once, his eyes reflecting the same cold determination I felt. 'We will,' he said. 'Together.'

The training grounds echoed with the sound of combat, the morning sun casting long shadows across the packed dirt. Dean had returned from the summit three days ago, and today was the first public pack training session since his return. I stood at the edge of the field, watching as warriors paired off, their movements fluid and precise under Dean's watchful eye. My arm still ached from the marking ceremony, the bond with Dean a constant, unwelcome presence in my mind. Sable paced restlessly within me, her amber eyes tracking Renata's movements across the field.

The Omega moved with practiced grace, her dark hair pulled back in a tight braid that emphasized the delicate features of her face. She caught Dean's eye repeatedly, her smiles lingering just a fraction too long to be innocent. I pressed my thumb against my wrist, grounding myself as Sable growled.

'Warriors, form defensive positions!' Dean's voice boomed across the field, his Alpha tone carrying the weight of command. The pack members scrambled to obey, except for Renata. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to me with barely concealed contempt.

'You heard the Alpha,' I said quietly, stepping forward. 'Take your position, Omega.'

Renata's lips curled into a smirk. 'I don't take orders from someone who was bought with her father's money,' she replied, loud enough for nearby warriors to hear. Several heads turned our way, interest sparking in their eyes.

Dean's expression darkened as he strode toward us. 'Renata, you will—'

Before he could finish, she moved. With a fluid motion that spoke of premeditation, she reached for the chemical flare canister at her belt—a training tool meant to simulate real combat conditions. The flare arced through the air, its trajectory aimed directly at me.

I dodged, but not quickly enough. The flare exploded against my arm, the chemical compound burning through my training gear and searing my skin. Pain blazed up my arm, and I bit back a cry as the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air.

'Oops,' Renata said, her voice dripping with false concern. 'Luna, you should be more careful.'

Sable raged within me, demanding retribution, but I forced myself to remain calm. Blood seeped through the fabric of my sleeve, but I straightened, meeting Dean's gaze with perfect composure.

'Alpha,' I said, my voice steady despite the pain, 'I believe there's been an accident.'

Renata's smirk widened, clearly expecting Dean to dismiss the incident or, better yet, to reprimand me for not being quick enough. But Dean's eyes had narrowed, his gaze flicking between Renata and me, calculating.

'The Morales investment,' I reminded him, my voice barely above a whisper. 'The new wing. My father was quite generous.'

Something shifted in Dean's expression, greed outweighing whatever affection he might have had for his Omega mistress. He turned to Renata, his Alpha aura flaring with sudden, terrible intensity.

'You dare?' he growled, his Alpha tone hitting her like a physical blow. Renata staggered, her face paling as the full weight of his disapproval crashed over her. 'You dare injure my Luna? You dare endanger this pack's future?'

'Alpha, I didn't mean—' she began, but Dean cut her off.

'Stockades,' he snarled. 'Now.'

Two Delta warriors stepped forward, grasping Renata's arms as her face crumpled in shock. The bond between her and Dean fractured with an almost audible crack, the connection they'd shared shattered by his public rejection.

I watched impassively as they dragged her away, her protests fading into the distance. The pain in my arm throbbed in time with my heartbeat, but it was nothing compared to the satisfaction of watching Renata's carefully constructed world begin to crumble.

Later, in the infirmary, Maren Voss cleaned and dressed my burn with gentle hands. 'This will heal,' she assured me, her eyes kind. 'But it will leave a scar.'

'Scars tell stories,' I replied, watching as she finished bandaging my arm. 'And this one is just beginning.'

When Maren left, I pulled out my secure phone and typed a message to Dorian: 'The first move worked. Time for the ledger.'

His response came almost immediately: 'Working on it. How bad is the burn?'

I smiled faintly at the concern in his message. 'Worth it,' I typed back. 'See you tonight.'

The forged money-laundering ledger was taking shape in Dorian's lab—a masterpiece of forensic deception that would tie Dean to Renata's father's rogue pharmaceutical network. The perfect trap for a man who trusted no one, but suspected everyone.