My Mate Is a Dead Man

My mate, Ford, drowned on the day we were supposed to bond for life. But after my tears ran dry, I discovered that the man who really died was his twin brother, Aiden. Ford had stolen his identity, all to be with Kyra, the woman carrying his other child.

"The pain she thinks she feels from our severed mate bond? It's an illusion. A little dark magic to keep her convinced I'm gone."

I clung to the doorframe, my fingers digging into the wood. Ford's voice drifted from the room, each word a silver bullet straight to my soul.

"But she's carrying your child. If she finds out—"

"She won't," Ford's voice was chillingly detached. "Shelly's crushed by grief right now. Her senses are a mess. As long as I'm careful, she'll never know Aiden is dead."

My knees gave out, and I had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

They kept talking, planning how to keep me in the dark, how to let me play the part of the pitiful widow.

All while he played games between two women.

I stumbled back to my room just as my phone buzzed, the ringtone shrill and piercing.

"Shelly?" Billy's voice was laced with worry. "Your emotions are all over the place. What happened?"

"Billy—" my voice was as fragile as shattered glass. "I need you to help me—"

"Slow down," Billy's voice sharpened. "Who hurt you?"

I slapped a hand over my mouth, hot tears carving silent tracks down my cheeks.

As the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack, Billy's senses were unnervingly sharp.

He already knew something was wrong.

"He's not dead," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "Ford isn't dead, Billy. It was Aiden."

The line was silent for three seconds.

"Are you sure?"

"I heard him myself," I bit my lip. "He let Aiden die for him, and now he's hiding right under my nose, pretending to be his own brother."

"That son of a bitch," Billy's voice turned to ice. "I'm coming over to kill him right now."

"No." I wiped my tears, the grief inside me freezing over, replaced by the cold precision of a healer. "I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to make him feel what it's really like to lose his mate."

"Shelly—"

"Arrange a plane crash for me," my voice was quiet, but it held a deadly calm. "Since he loves faking his death so much, I'll give him a taste of the real thing."

The bedroom door creaked open.

Ford walked in with a glass of warm milk, a look of perfect concern on his face.

"Shelly, what's wrong? Another nightmare about Ford?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch my cheek.

I forced myself not to flinch.

"I just—I miss him," I took the milk, my voice catching. "Aiden, sometimes… I feel like he never left."

"I know," his voice was so gentle it made my stomach churn. "I miss my brother, too. If it weren't for those damn silver bullets—"

He paused, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes.

Was it pain? Guilt? Or was it… satisfaction?

"Ford was a good Alpha. He'll watch over you and the baby."

I nodded, lowering my gaze to hide the ice in my eyes.

"Billy is coming to see me tomorrow," I said softly. "He said there are a few things to sort out."

Ford's body tensed slightly.

"What things?"

"I don't know," I shook my head. "Probably something about the pack alliance."

He nodded and stood to leave. Just as he reached the door, I looked up and met his gaze.

"Aiden," I said, my voice dangerously soft. "Your scent… it's almost identical to his. Are you sure you're not my mate?"