Claimed By My Ex-Mate's Enemy (Malakai's Bel)

CLARABEL

With the little cup clutched in my hand, I remained where I was, occasionally glancing down at the white dress clinging to my body. The night was silent, eerily so, and the entire Pack had gathered around the great bonfire.

A long line of women stood waiting for their Alphas, one of the many traditions of the Pack.

Wives were to fast on this day for the sake of our husbands, then at the Moon's peak, the Alphas would feed us waters to complete the ritual and break the fast.

This ritual was done to show the sacred link between Alpha and his mate. But tonight meant more than tradition to me.

Tonight was special because I was finally going to tell Greenwood what I had just found out.

I was carrying his child.

Even now, it still felt like a dream. I had rehearsed the words all day, over and over, whispering them to myself and imagining the look on his face when he heard it.

Lately, he had been distant. Very distant but that was nothing new. Our marriage was never really rooted in love. Circumstances brought him to me though I had always loved him in secret.

But this news would change everything. It would make him love me back.

Maybe after tonight, he would look at me differently. He would finally see me, not merely as the woman meant to fill a role beside him as Luna, but as his wife. As the mother of his child. As the woman carrying the heir to his throne.

My insides sizzled with nervous joy as I watched him move through the crowd.

The Pack members bowed as he passed. As always, he wore that austere expression, the one that made him impossible to read. You could never tell what he was thinking.

My pulse quickened.

He would reach me any second now. He would hand me the cup, and then I would tell him.

As his steps drew closer, my stomach churned.

But my joy was cut short almost immediately.

I watched him stop. I watched his entire body tense all at once and just like that, his eyes tore away from me and looked elsewhere.

It was sudden. Intense.

My breath caught as I followed his line of sight.

That was when I saw her.

Monica.

His first love. She was the circumstances that brought Greenwood to me.

I had never met her in person but I was able to recognize her instantly because Greenwood hung a picture of her on the walls of our room.

She was the woman he spoke of whenever drink loosened his tongue and bitterness bled out of him. Monica was the woman he had truly wanted, the woman he was supposed to marry but on their mating ceremony night, she disappeared.

In order to protect his reputation and save his face, I stepped in, offering to be a replacement bride.

I knew he had no feelings for me but I was stupid enough to think he would move on eventually, and learn to love me.

But right now, seeing the way he looked at her made me realize how foolish I had been.

A piece of his heart had never stopped yearning for her.

He did not even glance at me as he made his way toward Monica, his eyes refusing to shift from her.

"Monica?" he whispered, his voice almost trembling.

"Greenwood..." she whispered back, just as softly, her voice heavy with longing.

It was as if I no longer existed.

I stood frozen, rooted to the spot, as he moved closer and took her hands in his, trembling slightly as though he feared she might vanish if he let go.

Then, as if that was not enough, he pulled her into his arms.

A huge lump lodged itself in my throat, and my grip tightened around the cup until the cold water sloshed over my fingers.

No.

No way this was happening.

Not here.

Not now.

My heart was already breaking as I watched them, my world crumbling right in front of me.

"Greenwood... I'm sorry." Her voice thickened with emotion. "I should never have left you. I was so young and... so foolish. I thought I could handle it, but after all these years..." The rest of her words caught in her throat.

Then he cupped her face and brushed away her tears with his thumb.

"No," he murmured. "Don't cry. Don't. You don't have to explain anything."

She shook her head, sniffling. "You don't understand. I feel so bad. Greenwood, please... please forgive me. I left everything I loved behind, and I swear, it was the worst thing I've ever done. The worst mistake of my life."

He gave a slow nod, then asked in a near whisper, "Have you been seeing anyone since then?"

I heard every word from where I stood.

One of the many cruel perks of being his mate.

Monica quickly shook her head, fighting the tears pouring down her cheeks. "No. Never. I couldn't do that. It has always been you, Greenwood. I've been exactly the way I was when I left."

A sigh of relief escaped him.

Then he asked the one question I never thought I would hear. "So... you still love me, Monica?"

She answered without hesitation. "Of course I do. I've never stopped loving you, Greenwood."

The way she smiled after saying it, and the way he looked at her...

I knew trouble was coming.

All the dreams I had nurtured of telling him about our baby, of watching something in him finally soften, of finally becoming more than a duty to him... all of it crumbled into dust.

And then it got worse.

Without a second thought, he took her hand and began leading her away from the gathering.

They walked past everyone and headed up the stairs to the Packhouse.

Reeling with embarrassment and shame, I followed after them, though each breath now felt harder to draw.

I did not know what I was doing.

Maybe I was hoping he would turn around, see me, and remember that he had not given me the water.

Maybe I just needed closure. Maybe I needed to see with my own eyes what my heart already knew.

Tears stung my eyes as I watched him lead her into our bedroom.

Our bedroom!

Clarabel's POV

I stopped outside the door, my whole body shaking. I wanted to hurl the cup away. I wanted to run. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare but something inside me snapped.

The fear, reverence, and respect I had once held for him vanished instantly. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Even though I had half expected it, the sight before me still made my jaw slacken.

They were kissing.

His hand was wrapped tightly around her waist while the other was tangled in her hair. They looked utterly lost in each other, as if nothing else in the world existed.

"Al-Alpha Greenwood," I hesitated before calling out his name with a courage I had no idea of. Right now, my voice did not sound a tiny amount like my own.

As soon as he heard me, he broke the kiss and turned to glare at me as though I had intruded on something sacred.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice sliced through what little remained of my heart, the disgust on his face so obvious that I could barely stand it.

But I forced myself to remain on my feet.

"You... you- my fast. I have not broken it yet. Please feed me water," I said, my voice trembling with hurt and pain.

His glare darkened, as if I had said something absurd. As if I had asked for too much.

"You can't be serious, Clara. Is that why you're here?" Irritation and annoyance accompanied his words, causing my heart to twist painfully, but I made myself continue. "It's tradition, Greenwood. We... we always do this together. Are you just going to stop this year because of her?" My voice cracked. "You're hurting me."

The tears spilled freely now.

He scoffed and turned away. "Tradition," he repeated coldly. "Do you know what that means to me?"

I shook my head.

"You don't? Fine! I will tell you. Tradition means nothing, especially if it involves you. Now get out of my presence!"

I blinked, hoping this was a bad dream but it wasn't.

Greenwood's attention moved back to Monica, who stood there watching us quietly, her face still slightly flushed.

My throat tightened even more.

"Forgive my intrusion... but I-I have something important to tell you toni-"

"Ugh." He cut me off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "To hell with whatever you have to say. I don't want to hear it, just get out already. You are interrupting us."

Pain shot through me.

"How can you do this to me? I am your wife," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Yet you bring another woman into our matrimonial bed and order me to leave you both? It's been years. You...you promised. You gave me your word. You assured me... you would stop treating me like this.."

He laughed, bitter and cruel. "Those were words made out of duty. Nothing more. You always knew I never loved you, yet you kept pushing. It's not my fault that you have no self respect."

Each word struck like a blow.

"How long will it take you to understand what you are to me?" His asked, his eyes cold and devoid of sympathy. "You were nothing but a means to an end. A Luna I needed standing beside me so I could ascend."

Then his gaze shifted to Monica, and something in his face softened in a way it had never softened for me. "But now..." he said quietly, "I have the love of my life back."

My chest caved in.

"So you're free, Clarabel," he finished, looking back at me with brutal indifference. "I don't have to keep pretending anymore. Go and find someone else to love you. Go and find comfort in the arms of another man, I have given you the freedom."

His voice rose like a whip. "I DON'T FUCKING NEED YOU ANYMORE."

For a long while, after he dropped the bombshell, my mind couldn't process it. "You're free, Clarabel. I don't fucking need you. You were a means to an end."

Every insult he shot at me echoed in my head, over and over again, like a cruel joke I wasn't meant to understand.

My fingers trembled around the cup, the water inside rippling violently.

Free? Was that supposed to be mercy? Was it pity?

Or was it just another way of telling me I had never meant anything? How could he do that after all I did for him and his Pack?!

I could hardly see now. Everything around me kept blurring, melting into a painful haze. I tried to anchor myself, to find something to hold onto, but the floor felt like it was shifting beneath my feet.

I turned to leave before he could see my face crumble. I couldn't let him see me break down. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had dismantled my entire existence.

Every step was heavy as though my limbs had turned to lead. Every breath made my chest ache, a constricting pressure that made it impossible to draw in enough air. I didn't make it far before I heard a voice behind me.

"Hold on," a voice came from behind.

CLARABEL

"Hold on," a voice came from behind.

«Don't turn, keep moving.» I warned in my head but still, my legs had other plans. They moved against my wish and I turned to find Monica standing there like she had every right to be, like she had already claimed everything I once thought belonged to me.

Her lips curled into a smirk as her eyes dragged over me, from head to toe, slow and deliberate, like she was inspecting something beneath her. "Clara, right?"

She walked closer and stopped, releasing a mocking scoff and tilting her head. "Really? So you are what Greenwood chose to replace me with?"

A soft, derisive laugh followed and it grated against my ears.

For a brief second, something inside me snapped. I wanted to slap her.

Not just slap her-no. I wanted to wipe that look off her face completely but my hand didn't move because I knew.

The consequences would destroy me.

So instead, I blinked away my tears and forced myself to look at her properly.

Her eyes remained on me, arms crossed, posture relaxed-too relaxed-as though this was entertainment.

Her gaze swept over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. It was a slow, agonizingly judgmental scan. I kept my cool and said nothing, though my nails were digging into my palms so hard I thought I might draw blood.

I said nothing, not a word, and that only seemed to amuse her more.

"No," she continued, her voice dripping with disgust. "Greenwood has better taste than this. He couldn't have chosen you. You must have begged your way into being his wife."

She let out another laugh, this one louder.

"This is how low-class, desperate bitches like you penetrate yourselves into higher places, forgetting a pig always remains a pig, whether washed or bathed. You are unfit to step into this Packhouse, let alone be Luna."

I swallowed hard, forcing my temper to stay in check. Her words kept sinking in like stones, heavy and cold.

Why on moon Mother Earth was she dropping venomous insults at me when she already won?

To think there was a time I had imagined her differently. I had believed that she was someone great and lovable that Greenwood had lost. Someone soft. Someone worth grieving. But this woman before me was neither.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something back to her, to defend my dignity, but the words refused to come out.

What could I even say? Nothing would matter. She had already won and she knew it.

The only thing I could do was to let her enjoy her moment, and that meant letting her insult the wits out of me.

The second she saw my silence, her eyes narrowed. "Are you dumb? Say something," she stepped closer. "Did you really think you could replace me? In that cheap dress? With that clown makeup?"

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "Greenwood is mine. He's always going to love me. You were just a placeholder while I was gone. Now that I am back, find your way out."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to block her out, but her words hurt so much, like needles finding every crack. I knew that responding was only going to end up making it worse. That's all she wanted. A crevice, something that would make me react so she would do the unimaginable and be justified for it.

She wanted me to fight and stoop to her level. She wanted a reason to run to Greenwood and make me the villain. I wasn't going to do that. All I needed right now was to leave and get out of this nightmare before it got even worse.

I turned to leave without saying anything to her, thinking she would feel like a fool since l didn't engage. But that didn't cut it for her. Her hand shot out before I could react and she grabbed my arm in a painful grip. Her fingers dug in like iron claws.

"Let go, you're hurting me," I blurted out, glaring at her.

A smile quickly rose to her face, a dark, triumphant expression. "Yeah? I love how you're feeling the pain. You don't just get to walk away," she hissed before her fingers dug deeper into my skin.

In a trice, she spun me around and-slap!

Her palm struck my cheek in a flash, knocking my head to the side. It was sharp and utterly stinging. The impact sent a shockwave through my jaw, and it took a while before the ringing in my ears slowly went down. I gasped as my hand flew to my cheek, which was already beginning to throb and heat up.

My head was practically swimming. I looked at her, ready to finally scream, but before I could even speak out, she did the worst thing possible. She let out a piercing scream and, to my shock, she threw herself to the floor. She clutched her face as if I had been the one to strike her. She was wailing now, the sound loud enough to carry through the entire wing of the house.

"What do you think you're doing?" I growled at her, scared to the bones. My heart was hammering against my ribs. I knew how this looked-he would never believe me over her.

"Help! Help me! She... she hit me!" Monica sobbed, her voice high and trembling.

My mouth went dry. I stood there frozen, watching her performance. In an instant, the doors at the end of the hall swung open. Greenwood stormed out. His eyes were wild, scanning the scene, and when he saw her on the floor, those eyes began to burn with pure rage. I was finished. Monica was still sprawled on the floor, sobbing dramatically, covering the side of her face that she had used to hit me. Even a blind man should have been able to see through her act, but his judgment was clouded by her presence.

He stormed towards me and demanded, "What have you done to her?"