The Mistress’s Anger

Author’s pov

The golden mirror reflected her graceful figure as she paced across the bedroom, her silk robe flowing like liquid over her curves. Veronica had always lived like a queen within the Red Claw Pack. This room…her room was proof of it: draped in velvet curtains, the perfume of roses always lingering in the air, and treasures from across the territories arranged in delicate glass cases.

But tonight, unease crackled around her like a storm.

Her heeled slippers clicked against the polished floor as she turned sharply, her emerald eyes narrowing. Something was wrong. The pack house was buzzing, voices carrying down the corridors in hurried whispers. Servants had scurried past her door, eyes wide, lips pressed tight as though terrified to speak.

And Veronica despised being kept in the dark.

The door burst open, and Clara, one of the younger maids, rushed inside. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly out of place from running. She dropped into a kneel at once, her head bowed low.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” Veronica demanded, her voice sharp as glass.

Clara’s silence made her blood run cold.

Veronica’s grip tightened on the edge of the vanity. “Clara. Speak.”

The maid’s voice trembled. “It’s true, my lady. Alpha Dylan brought a woman to the pack tonight. She’s… she’s his mate. He has placed her in the special Luna chambers.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

For a moment, Veronica could only stare. Her fingers slipped from the vanity, and she collapsed into the chair beside it, motionless.

His mate.

Her lips parted, but no sound came. She had always known this day might come every Alpha eventually found his fated mate but she had convinced herself Dylan would never abandon her.

She had been his confidante, his companion in the dark nights when power weighed heavily on his shoulders. She had warmed his bed, whispered encouragement when he returned bloodied from battle, eased his fury when enemies tested his patience.

She had given years to him.

And now… now she will be nothing?

Clara risked lifting her head, her expression wary. “I heard the guards speaking, my lady. He… he defended her before the pack. Declared her his Luna.”

Veronica’s nails dug into the velvet armrest. Heat flared across her chest, part rage, part disbelief.

“No.” Her voice was cold, sharp. “No, he wouldn’t humiliate me like that. Not after everything.”

But doubt crept in despite her denial. Dylan was ruthless, but he never wasted words. If he had spoken it, he meant it.

She rose abruptly, her robe swirling around her ankles. Her steps carried her across the room like a predator trapped in a gilded cage.

“What does she look like?” Veronica snapped.

The maid hesitated. “She… she is young. Small. Her dress was plain, torn even. Not at all like a Luna should appear, my lady.”

That was enough to ignite Veronica’s fury. Her laughter rang out, bitter and sharp. “Plain? Torn? And he dares bring that into this house, into the pack? Does he think the pack will respect her? That they will bow to a girl who looks like she crawled out of the ashes?”

Her words dripped with venom, but deep down, a coil of unease twisted in her belly. Dylan had never cared for appearances he valued strength, spirit, fire. If he had chosen this girl, it was because he saw something in her Veronica could not rival.

And that terrified her.

She turned back to Clara, her eyes blazing. “Find out everything about her. Where she came from, who she is, what she wants. I don’t care how you do it. By morning, I want answers.”

“Yes, my lady,” the maid whispered, bowing lower.

Veronica’s hands shook as she reached for a glass of wine on her table. She swallowed deeply, the bitter liquid burning down her throat. Still, it did nothing to ease the weight crushing her chest.

She had thought she had time. Thought Dylan’s search for his mate would drag on for years. That even if fate delivered some girl to him, she Veronica would remain untouchable, irreplaceable.

But fate had been cruel.

“His mate,” she spat, slamming the glass down so hard it cracked.

Her thoughts churned like a storm. She remembered the way Dylan had once held her close, his promises murmured against her skin. You are mine, Veronica. No one else holds me like you do. No one else understands me.

Had those words meant nothing?

The humiliation burned deeper than any flame. The pack would whisper. They would pity her. Some might even laugh Veronica, the mistress, replaced overnight by a girl from nowhere.

She couldn’t allow that.

Her jaw tightened. “If she thinks she can come here and take my place, she’s mistaken.”

Clara lifted her gaze slightly. “What will you do, my lady?”

Veronica’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Whatever it takes.”

But once the maid left, silence pressed heavy around her. Alone, the cracks in her mask showed.

She moved to the mirror again, staring at her reflection. Her beauty was undeniable raven hair spilling down her shoulders, sharp cheekbones, lips painted red. She had always been admired, envied, desired.

Yet in that moment, staring at herself, all she saw was a woman suddenly made small by fate. A woman easily discarded.

Hot tears blurred her vision, but she forced them back, shaking her head fiercely. No. She would not cry. She would not let that girl steal not only her place but her dignity.

If Dylan thought he could toss her aside, he would learn he was wrong.

And if that girl thought being Luna would be easy, Veronica would make sure every step she took was laced with thorns.

*****

That night, sleep never came. Veronica sat by her window, staring out at the glowing lights of the pack house, her mind racing.

Images of Dylan with the mysterious girl haunted her. Did he touch her? Did he whisper to her, the way he once whispered to Veronica? Did he look at her with the same fire in his eyes?

Jealousy twisted like knives in her gut.

By dawn, her decision was made.

She would watch. She would wait. She would strike when the moment was right.

Because no matter what fate said, no matter what bond tied them..

She had been here first.

And she would not give up her place without a fight.