My Alpha Crowned His Mistress at Our Ceremony

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, fingers trembling slightly as I dabbed concealer over the purplish bruise blooming across my cheekbone. The final underground fight had been the worst one yet. The Rogue I'd faced had fought dirty—claws to the face when the rules clearly stated no striking above the neck. But I'd won. And the money would cover the Alpha Coronation feast tonight.

"Almost there," I whispered to myself, applying another layer of heavy foundation. "Just a few more hours."

My wolf, Luna, stirred restlessly within me. *We shouldn't have to hide our scars. They're badges of honor.*

"Quiet," I muttered. "You know how important tonight is."

Mason was being crowned Alpha of the Silverfang Pack tonight. After years of sacrifice—my blood, my dignity, my safety—we were finally going to reap the rewards. He'd promised to mark me as his Luna during the ceremony. Tonight, everything would change.

I smoothed down the simple black dress I'd chosen, the most formal thing I owned. It wasn't the elaborate gown a Luna should wear, but Mason had made it clear I needed to "stay in the background" until the marking ceremony. Something about not wanting to "confuse the pack" before everything was official.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I quickly capped the concealer and opened it to find Mason's Beta, Derek, looking uncomfortable.

"The Alpha requests your presence," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

I nodded, following him through the pack house corridors. Wolves nodded respectfully as we passed, though I noticed how their eyes slid away from mine. They still didn't know I was Mason's mate. To them, I was just Harold Foster's daughter—the girl with the weak wolf who somehow managed pack finances.

Mason stood in his ceremonial quarters, surrounded by members of the council. They fell silent as I entered, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the sudden tension in the room.

Mason didn't turn immediately. He was adjusting his ceremonial robes—blood-red silk embroidered with silver thread. The Alpha's colors.

"Yes," he finally said, still not looking at me. "I wanted to remind you about tonight."

His voice sounded strange—booming and artificial. I knew why. The steroids I'd procured for him were working overtime today, enhancing his Beta-level wolf into something more commanding. Something worthy of an Alpha.

"The ceremony starts at moonrise," he continued, adjusting his shoulders. "Stay in the back. Don't draw attention to yourself."

One of the council members—Marcus Dean, Aura's father—cleared his throat. "And the... arrangement we discussed?"

Mason nodded. "Jocelyn understands her place."

I froze. What arrangement? What was he talking about?

"Of course," I said carefully, watching Mason's face for any hint of what was happening.

Finally, he turned to look at me, but his eyes didn't meet mine. "Wear something... appropriate. And stay out of sight until I call for you."

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The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as pack members gathered