The Alpha’s Regret: My Ex-Mate is a Mafia Legend

"Tristan, are you present in the den?"

I stepped through the heavy iron-reinforced doors of the Blackmoor Pack House, my claws itching under my skin. I’d hurried back to the Nightfall Territory earlier than expected, my heart pounding with a rhythm that felt far too much like hope. Today marked three years since the blood-bond ceremony. I had a gift for him.

The silence of the great hall was suffocating. I scented the air, expecting the familiar musk of my Alpha husband, but what hit me was the sharp, cloying scent of another wolf—a female.

I moved toward the upper chambers of the Pack House, my boots silent on the stone. The sounds began before I reached the landing. Wet, rhythmic gasps and the low, guttural growl of a wolf in heat echoed through the corridor.

"Please, Tristan... if the Luna finds us... if Xender walks in..."

The voice was like a silver blade to my gut. Seraphina Duskryn. She was the omega he’d supposedly exiled before our families merged our territories.

I didn't wait. I didn't knock. I felt the beast inside me roar as I stood before the master suite.

"Why do you care about him, Seraphina? This union was nothing but a political bridge. Xender Stormriven is a male 'Luna' in name only. I’ve never desired him. I haven’t shared his bed once in three years, and I don't intend to start now. His bloodline is useless to me."

"I almost feel for him," Seraphina’s voice drifted out, laced with a cruel heat. "Three years of guarding your borders, acting as your lead enforcer, and he hasn't even smelled your mark on his neck."

My vision blurred. Every sacrifice I’d made for the Blackmoor Pack—the blood I’d spilled, the nights I’d spent patrolling the frost-lines while he stayed warm—it was all a joke.

I slammed the door open. It hit the stone wall with a crack that sounded like a bone breaking.

Tristan didn't even flinch. He slowly pulled the furs over Seraphina’s bare shoulders, his eyes shifting to a cold, predatory amber as they landed on me.

"Get out, Xender. You're disrupting my peace."

I stared at the man I’d called my Alpha. "Tristan Blackmoor... give me one reason why I shouldn't tear your throat out right here."

Seraphina shifted, letting the furs slide just enough to reveal the fresh bite marks on her shoulder—the mark of a Blackmoor. She smirked at me, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"Xender, darling, be reasonable. An Alpha male has primal needs that a cold, dutiful soldier like you could never satisfy. Tristan loves me. You were just the price he paid for the Stormriven lands. You’re the outsider in this bedroom, and in this pack."

"You’re actually proud of being a stray in another wolf's bed?" I growled, my voice dropping an octave as my shift began to pull at my jawline.

"Proud?" Seraphina challenged. "I’m the victim here! Your parents used their influence in the Nightfall Council to force me out so you could take my place. Forcing a bond only brings rot, Xender. He hates you because you represent his chains."

I looked at Tristan, waiting for him to deny the lie. My family had never touched her. We had saved his pack from debt.

"Don't look at me," Tristan spat, standing up and pulling on his leather trousers. "If it weren't for your family’s greed, Seraphina wouldn't have spent years in the wastes. I will never forgive the Stormriven name for what you’ve cost me."

I felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my chest. I had been a fool. I had played the loyal mate to a wolf who saw me as a jailer.

"Neil... Tristan," Seraphina purred, sensing my break. "Don't be too harsh. He’s spent three years without a mate’s touch. It’s only natural he’s lost his mind."

"You foul, wretched creature," I hissed. I was across the room in a blur of motion. I didn't use a blade; I used the flat of my hand, fueled by three years of suppressed rage.

CRACK.

The force of the blow sent Seraphina flying off the bed, her head snapping back as she hit the floor.

"Xender, you bastard!"

Tristan didn't hesitate. He swung, his fist connecting with my jaw with the full weight of an Alpha’s strength.

I hit the wall, the copper taste of blood filling my mouth. My head rang, the world spinning as I tried to plant my feet.

"You dare lay a hand on her in my house?" Tristan roared. "Marrying into your bloodline was the greatest curse of my life."

He lunged for the desk, snatching a piece of parchment weighted down by a silver dagger. He hurled it at my chest.

"Sign it. Sever the bond. I want you stripped of the Blackmoor name and gone by moonrise!"

I looked down at the divorce decree. It was already signed in his bold, aggressive hand. He’d been carrying this, waiting for an excuse.

The ache in my heart died, replaced by a cold, crystalline stillness. I picked up the pen from the floor. With a jagged stroke, I signed my name, reclaiming my sovereignty. I threw the parchment back at his face.

"Tristan, we’re done. I’m taking my shadows and leaving your lightless house. Don't look for me when your borders fall."

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I answered it without looking, my eyes locked on the man who was now my enemy.

"Xender? Where the hell are you?" Raze’s voice boomed from the speaker, urgent and sharp. "The Moonshade Atelier is drowning in contracts. The High Mafia Lords of the Northern Reach just put a hundred-million-dollar bounty on a custom design. They won't speak to anyone but the Ghost of Nightfall. When are you coming home to your throne?"