After My Mate Claimed His Mistress, I Planned My Revenge

The Silvercrest pack house healing wing smelled like sage and antiseptic. I stood in the corridor, one hand pressed to my lower belly, feeling the faint flutter inside. My wolf stirred—cautious, guarded, but for the first time in five years, warm.

Junior healer Cayson appeared from the examination room and smiled. "Luna Cassandra," he said quietly. "We're ready for you."

"Thank you, Cayson." I tried to return the smile. He was young, maybe twenty-three, with kind eyes and careful hands. He treated me like I mattered. Not because I was Luna. Because I was a wolf carrying a pup who deserved to survive.

I started down the corridor. Then I caught it.

Jasmine and ash.

My wolf went still. Not the frantic, clawing stillness of panic. The quiet, predatory stillness of recognition.

I turned my head slowly. Jaylani stood in the supply alcove, her healer trainee robes spotless, her hands folded in front of her. She was watching me. Her expression was soft. Sympathetic. Perfectly calibrated to read as concern.

But the scent.

It was stronger now. Not faint. Not something I could convince myself I'd imagined. It was threaded into the antiseptic air, clinging to her robes, soaked into the walls of this corridor as though it belonged here. As though it had been here long enough to settle.

Jasmine and ash. Sweet on the surface. Burnt underneath.

My wolf knew what it meant. My mind had been building the dossier for weeks. And now my body—my pup—was here, in the same hallway as the she-wolf whose scent lived on my mate's collar.

Jaylani's lips curved into a small, gentle smile. "Luna," she murmured. "Congratulations. We're all so happy for you."

I didn't answer. I turned and kept walking toward the examination room.

Then she moved.

She stepped out of the alcove carrying a supply tray—metal instruments, gauze, a glass bottle that caught the light. She walked directly into my path. I saw it happening. I saw the angle of her body, the way her weight shifted forward, the deliberate tilt of the tray.

She collided into me.

Full body weight. Shoulder to ribs. The tray flew. I crashed against the corridor wall and my knees buckled. I hit the stone floor hard.

Something tore inside me.

I felt it. Not pain yet. Just the sensation of something giving way that was never supposed to move. Then the warmth. Blood spreading beneath me, soaking through my dress, pooling on the cold stone.

The tray clattered across the floor. Metal instruments scattered. The glass bottle shattered.

Jaylani gasped. A high, breathy sound. She stumbled backward, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh Goddess," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see—Luna, I'm so sorry—"

Her voice trembled. Perfectly calibrated.

My wolf snarled.

"Cassandra!" Cayson's voice cut through the corridor. He was at my side in seconds, dropping to his knees, his hands pressing against my abdomen. His face went white. "Get the senior healer," he barked at someone behind him. "Now.