Betrayed by Her Mate: The Awakening of the White Wolf

I unlocked my mate's tablet to check the time, but a notification caught my eye: Project Luna.

Curiosity turned to horror as I opened the file. It wasn't a diary. It was a spreadsheet.

Task #104: Public display of affection. Status: Complete.

Task #215: Gift pearls. Status: Complete.

I wasn't Jaxon's soulmate. I was a quarterly projection inherited from his dead brother to secure the pack's assets.

The reality of his indifference nearly killed me at our engagement gala. When the massive chandelier snapped above us, Jaxon didn't shield me.

He used my body as a launchpad to dive toward his mistress, Janice.

I was crushed under lead crystal and silver wire, my flesh burning from the poison. While I lay bleeding on the marble floor, Jaxon carried a scratch-free Janice to safety, screaming at the guards to ignore me.

But the physical scar on my arm was nothing compared to what I found next.

I hacked into Janice's private account. There was a marriage certificate from Vegas, dated six months ago.

On the exact night I miscarried our child alone on the bathroom floor, begging him to answer his phone, he was marrying her.

He let our pup die while he pledged his life to another.

When he tried to buy my forgiveness with a necklace, only to let Janice snatch it from his hand, I finally snapped.

I threw his money in his face, rejected the bond, and vanished to Norway.

Jaxon thought I would die without him.

He didn't know that the Alpha Supreme of Europe had been waiting a lifetime to find me.

Chapter 1

Elfrieda POV:

The screen of the tablet glowed in the darkness of the penthouse, illuminating the tears that I refused to let fall. It was Jaxon's private device, left carelessly on the coffee table while he took a call on the terrace. I had only meant to check the time, but the notification had popped up.

Project Luna: Denzel's Legacy.

Curiosity killed the cat, but it was about to slaughter the wolf. I tapped the file. It wasn't a diary. It wasn't a love letter. It was a spreadsheet.

My breath hitched in my throat. It was a checklist. A literal, itemized checklist of over four hundred tasks.

Task #104: Public display of affection at the Summer Solstice. Status: Complete.

Task #215: Gift jewelry (pearls preferred by high society). Status: Complete.

Task #302: Northern Lights trip. Status: Pending.

Next to every single interaction we had shared over the last three years, there was a tag: For the Glory of the Tate Pack.

I felt sick. My stomach churned, twisting into a tight knot. I wasn't his soulmate. I was a line item. I was a quarterly projection inherited from his dead brother.

The glass door to the terrace was cracked open. The night wind carried the scent of rain and Jaxon's scent-forest pine and ozone. Once, that scent made my knees weak. Now, it just smelled like a lie.

I focused my hearing. It was a trait of my bloodline I kept hidden; my senses were sharper than even some Alphas.

"She suspects nothing, Janice," Jaxon's voice drifted in, low and irritated. "Stop nagging me. I have to finish the list. It was Denzel's blood oath. I cannot let the Tate Pack crumble because I failed to secure a Luna."

My heart stopped. Janice. His high school sweetheart. The Beta female who supposedly moved to London years ago.

"I know you're tired of waiting," Jaxon continued, his voice softening in a way he never used with me. "But Elfrieda is... malleable. She is the perfect puppet Luna. She has the bloodline, even if she is wolfless. Once the Elders ratify the union next week, I'll have full control of the assets. Then we can be together properly."

He paused, listening to the person on the other line.

"I love you, Janice. You know that. This is just duty. She is just a duty."

Just a duty.

The words were a physical blow. I clutched my chest. In our world, the bond between fated mates is sacred. It is designed by the Moon Goddess herself. When you find your mate, your souls are supposed to recognize each other.

But Jaxon had never recognized me. I had felt the pull, the spark, three years ago. But he had looked at me with cold calculation. I thought he was just guarded. I thought he was mourning his brother.

I was wrong. He wasn't mourning. He was working.

I quickly closed the file and placed the tablet back exactly where it was. My hands were trembling.

I remembered the music. The Royal Academy of Wolfen Arts in Europe had offered me a full scholarship for my violin. They said my music had the power to soothe feral wolves, a rare gift called the Siren's Song. I had turned it down. For him. For this pack.

I had clipped my own wings to sit in a gilded cage, waiting for a man who was checking boxes on a spreadsheet.

The glass door slid open. Jaxon walked in. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that fell over his eyes. He looked like a king. He looked like my executioner.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Elfrieda. You're still up."

"I couldn't sleep," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

He walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. His touch should have sent sparks through me-the electric current that signifies a mate bond. But it felt dull. Muted. Like a connection interfering with static.

"I was thinking," he said, his tone rehearsed. "We should go see the Northern Lights next month. It would be romantic."

Task #302.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shift, to let the wolf I had buried deep inside me rip his throat out. But I couldn't. Not yet.

"That sounds lovely," I lied.

He kissed my forehead. It was dry and quick. "Good. I have some work to finish in the study. Go to bed."

He turned and walked away, pulling out his phone again.

I waited until the study door clicked shut. Then, I pulled out my own laptop. My fingers flew across the keyboard. I wasn't just a violin prodigy; silence taught you how to listen, and loneliness taught you how to find things.

I hacked into Janice's social media. It was private, but her password was pathetic-Jaxon's birthday.

There it was. A photo posted six months ago. A marriage certificate from a human courthouse in Las Vegas. Janice and Jaxon.

They were already married by human law.

A sob threatened to break my ribs. Six months ago. The timeline aligned perfectly with the darkest week of my life.

I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind. The Mind-Link is the telepathic web that connects all pack members. It is usually noisy, filled with patrols and chatter. But I pushed past the noise, reaching for a specific frequency.

Jamil? I sent the thought out, weak and broken.

My brother's voice came back instantly, sharp with alarm. Elfrieda? What's wrong? Your mental wall is crumbling. I can feel your pain.

I looked at the closed study door. I looked at the engagement ring on my finger, a diamond that felt heavier than a shackle.

Get me out, I pleaded through the link. Please, brother. Come get me.

Elfrieda POV:

Jaxon made me wear the blue silk dress. He said it was the color of the Tate Pack's banner. I knew it was just another costume for his puppet.

We were at the Grand Engagement Gala. The ballroom was filled with the elite of the werewolf society. Alphas from neighboring territories, wealthy business partners, and the Elders who held the keys to Jaxon's inheritance.

The air smelled of champagne, roasted meat, and the musk of a hundred wolves. It was suffocating.

"Smile," Jaxon whispered in my ear, his hand gripping my waist a little too tight. " The Elders are watching."

"I am smiling," I said through gritted teeth.

Then I saw her. Janice.

She shouldn't have been here. She was supposed to be in London. But there she was, standing near the buffet, wearing a red dress that screamed for attention. She caught my eye and smirked.

She raised a glass to me. Around her neck, hidden under a scarf, I saw the glimmer of a protective amulet. One bought with pack funds. I had seen the receipt on the tablet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jaxon's voice boomed. He possessed the Alpha Tone, a vocal resonance that demanded attention. The room went silent.

He pulled me to the center of the floor beneath the massive crystal chandelier. "Tonight, I officially present my future Luna. Elfrieda has stood by me through the tragedy of my brother's death. She is the epitome of loyalty."

He went down on one knee. The crowd gasped in delight. It was a perfect performance.

Task #400: The Public Proposal.

I looked down at him. I felt nothing but nausea. I opened my mouth to speak, to perhaps say no, to end this charade.

Snap.

The sound was like a gunshot.

My enhanced hearing picked it up a split second before anyone else. The metal cable holding the chandelier above us had snapped.

"Jaxon!" I shouted.

Gravity took over. The massive fixture, tons of crystal and steel, plummeted.

Time seemed to slow down. In a moment of danger, an Alpha's instinct is hardwired to protect his Mate above all else. It is biological law. He should have shielded me. He should have thrown me out of the way.

But Jaxon didn't look at me.

His eyes darted to the side. To the red dress.

Janice let out a theatrical scream, though she was well clear of the danger zone.

Jaxon lunged. He shoved me aside-not to save me, but to use my body as a leverage point to launch himself toward Janice.

I fell backward, hitting the marble floor hard.

The chandelier crashed down.

It didn't hit me directly, but it shattered upon impact. Thousands of shards of crystal exploded like shrapnel.

Agony. White-hot and blinding, it ripped through my right arm and shoulder.

"Argh!" I screamed.

The crystal wasn't just glass. It was lead crystal, reinforced with silver wiring for aesthetic shine. Silver. The poison of our kind.

A large shard, laced with silver wire, was embedded deep in my forearm. Smoke began to rise from the wound immediately. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Silver burns a werewolf like acid, halting our rapid healing factor and causing excruciating agony.

"My arm!" I cried out, clutching the wound.

The ballroom was in chaos. Dust and debris filled the air.

"Janice! Are you okay?" Jaxon's frantic voice cut through the noise.

I looked up through the haze of pain. Jaxon was cradling Janice in his arms. She didn't have a scratch on her. She was sobbing fake tears into his chest.

"I was so scared, Jax," she whimpered.

He was checking her for injuries, his hands trembling. He hadn't even looked back at me.

"Jaxon..." I whispered. The silver was poisoning my blood. My vision blurred.

A pack warrior rushed over to me. "Alpha! The future Luna is hit! It's silver!"

Jaxon turned his head. His eyes were wild, dilated. For a second, he looked at me-bleeding, broken on the floor. Then he looked back at Janice.

"Get the car," Jaxon barked at the warrior. "Janice is in shock. She needs to get to the hospital immediately. Stress is bad for her condition."

"But Alpha, Elfrieda is-"

"I gave you a command!" Jaxon roared, using the Alpha Command. The warrior flinched, his wolf forcing him to obey.

Jaxon scooped Janice up and ran toward the exit. He left me. He stepped over the debris, stepped over the blood-my blood-and carried his mistress to safety.

I lay there, the poison spreading. The physical pain was blinding, but the pain in my chest was worse. My wolf, deep inside, let out a mournful howl and then went silent.

Darkness took me.

I woke up to the sterile smell of the pack hospital. Beeping monitors. The sharp scent of antiseptic.

"She's awake," a gruff voice said.

My father stood there. And Jamil. Jamil looked like he had been crying, or fighting, or both. His knuckles were bruised.

I looked down at my arm. It was heavily bandaged. I could still feel the phantom burn of the silver.

"Where is he?" I asked, my voice a rasp.

"Next door," Jamil spat. "Sitting by her bedside. She has a bruised ego. You have twenty stitches and silver poisoning."

I stared at the white ceiling. "Six months ago."

"What?" my father asked gently.

"Six months ago," I repeated, tears finally leaking from my eyes. "When Jaxon went on that 'business trip' to the coast... I miscarried."

My father gasped. In werewolf culture, a pup is a blessing from the Moon. To lose one is a tragedy.

"I called him," I whispered. "I called him ten times. He never answered. I went through it alone on the bathroom floor. I lost our pup because I was weak from stress, from him draining my energy."

I looked at Jamil. "He was with her. He was marrying her in Vegas while our child was dying inside me."

Jamil let out a low growl, his eyes flashing gold-the sign of his wolf surfacing. "I will kill him. I will tear his throat out."

He turned to the door.

"No," I said. It took all my strength. "No, Jamil."

"He deserves death!"

"He deserves worse," I said. I sat up, wincing as the silver poison throbbed. "He deserves to live with what he's done."

I reached for my left hand. My fingers were swollen, but I twisted the diamond ring. It stuck for a moment, then slid off.

I placed it on the bedside table. The metal made a hollow clink sound.

"Take me home," I said. "I am done with the Tate Pack."

Elfrieda POV:

A week passed. The silver poison had cleared from my blood, but the ugly, jagged scar on my forearm remained. It would take months to fade completely, a permanent reminder of the night my mate chose another.

I was staying at my parents' estate on the edge of the city. I hadn't turned on my phone. I hadn't checked the news.

Then, Jaxon showed up.

I heard the commotion downstairs. The deep rumble of an engine, the slamming of a car door.

"You are not welcome here, Alpha Tate," Jamil's voice carried from the porch.

"She is my fiancée, Jamil. Move aside." Jaxon's voice was arrogant, laced with the command that usually made wolves cower.

But Jamil didn't move.

I walked out onto the balcony. Jaxon stood in the driveway holding a massive bouquet of white lilies. Lilies. The flower of funerals. He didn't even know.

He looked up and saw me. "Elfrieda. Thank the Moon. I've been so worried."

"Worried?" I called down. My voice was cold. "Is that why you left me bleeding on the floor to carry a woman who wasn't even scratched?"

Jaxon shifted uncomfortably. "Janice... she has a delicate constitution. She was in shock. I knew the medics would get to you. You're strong, Elfrieda. You always have been."

Strong. That was the excuse men used when they wanted to neglect you.

"Go away, Jaxon."

"Stop being dramatic," he snapped, his patience fraying. "The wedding is in five days. The press is asking questions. I need you to issue a statement saying it was a misunderstanding."

His phone rang. He looked at it, and his expression instantly softened.

"Janice? What's wrong?" He listened, his face paling. "Your ankle? Is it swelling? Okay, okay, don't move. I'm coming."

He hung up and looked at me, pointing a finger. "We will finish this later. Janice fell down the stairs. I have to go."

He threw the flowers on the ground and got back into his car, speeding away.

I stared at the crushed lilies. Something inside me snapped. Not in anger, but in cold resolution.

I went back inside, grabbed my keys, and followed him.

I tracked his scent. It led to a luxury apartment complex in the downtown district-a neutral zone where pack laws were less strictly enforced.

I parked down the street and walked. I could smell it before I even reached the building. Cheap, cloying perfume. Vanilla and synthetic musk. It was disgusting to a wolf's nose.

I found the ground-floor apartment. The curtains were drawn, but not fully.

I stood in the shadows of the alley, peering through the gap.

Jaxon was sitting on the sofa. Janice was on his lap. There was no ice pack on her ankle. She was straddling him, kissing his neck.

"She's so boring, Jax," Janice giggled. I could hear them clearly through the glass. "Holding her is like holding a piece of wood. No wolf. No fire."

"I know," Jaxon groaned, burying his face in her hair. "But the list... I just need to sign the papers. Then she can stay in the guest wing and rot for all I care."

Janice looked up. Her eyes locked directly onto the gap in the curtains. She saw me.

She smiled. It was a predator's smile.

She leaned in and kissed Jaxon deeply, making a show of it. She released her scent-a chemically altered pheromone designed to mimic a mate's heat. It was fake, but it worked on Jaxon.

My wolf whimpered. It was a sound of pure heartbreak. To see your mate rejecting you is one thing; to see him mocking the bond with an imposter was torture.

I turned away. I walked back to my car, my legs feeling like lead.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I had turned it on to use the GPS.

A notification from Instagram. Janice_Tate_Official requested to follow you.

Then a direct message.

Meet me at The Grind Café in the Neutral Zone. 2 PM. Unless you're too scared, little Omega.

I gripped the steering wheel until the leather creaked. She wanted to gloat. She wanted to rub my face in the dirt.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes were red, my skin pale. But my jaw was set.

I wasn't an Omega. I wasn't just a violin player.

I typed back: I'll be there.