(Layla)

I gripped the wedding bands so hard they left indents in my palms, watching my fated mate Mason exchange vows with Princess Abigail of the Oakshadow Pack. 

The massive altar in our pack’s great hall where they stood was covered with a red carpet, so lavish it felt like it was mocking my pain.

My wolf Ariel howled in anguish inside me, a sound that rang through my soul. Two years of secret meetings, stolen kisses in darkened corridors, whispered promises of forever—all thrown away for political ambition.

“You have to understand,” Mason had told me in his office last week, not even looking at me as he dropped the bomb. “The pack needs this alliance with Oakshadow. I need this to become Chairman. Your background…it would only hold us back.”

I nodded like the good Beta I was, swallowing my protests even as Ariel thrashed against our bond. 

He was right—my common birth would’ve ruined his campaign. The daughter of a lowly omega could never be Luna of the mighty Sapphire Sky Pack.

But standing here now in this ill-fitting bridesmaid dress that Princess Abigail’s mother had picked out (deliberately a size too small, I was sure), watching Mason pledge himself to another…The reality was so much worse than I’d imagined.

Princess Abigail looked ethereal in her white dress, her dark curls falling on her face in a way that complemented her delicate features. 

Her haughty demeanor screamed old money and proper breeding. Next to her, I felt like an ugly stray that had wandered into a purebred show.

The other bridesmaids—all highborn wolves from allied packs—kept shooting me pitying glances. 

Of course they knew about Mason and me being fated mates. Everyone knew. The gossip had spread through pack territories when we first discovered our bond during a border patrol two years ago.

They probably thought I was pathetic for agreeing to stand in my mate’s wedding to another woman.

Maybe I was.

“Beta Layla.” The officiant’s sharp voice yanked me from my spiral of self-loathing. “The rings, if you please.”

My hands trembled as I stepped forward with the ancient ceremonial bands that had bound Sapphire Sky alphas and lunas for generations. Mason still wouldn’t look at me, his jaw clenched tight as I held them out.

Our fingers brushed briefly as he took them. The thrill of our mate bond flared at the contact, then died as he quickly pulled away like my touch burned him.

Ariel whimpered as Mason slid the ring onto Abigail’s slender white finger. “With this ring, I thee wed…”

The traditional vows of our pack’s mating ceremony felt like knives piercing my ears. 

I’d dreamed of hearing them from Mason’s lips—but directed at me, not this princess who could never understand him like I did. 

Who didn’t know how he loved morning runs in the rain, or how he hummed off-key when he was working late, or the exact way he liked his coffee.

The moment the rings were exchanged, I stumbled back to my place in the wedding party. Tears welled behind my eyes but I refused to let them fall. I’d already given these high-society wolves enough gossip fodder to last a decade.

But when Mason kissed his bride, sealing their mating bond with a flash of ceremonial magic that made my own incomplete bond ache…I couldn’t take it anymore.

I fled the hall, ignoring the scandalized whispers that followed me.

I ended up at the Howling Moon, our local dive bar, downing shots of wolfsbane-infused whiskey like they were water. I've been neglecting my training lately, too depressed to maintain my usual workout routine. The alcohol hit me harder than it should have.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Mason’s lovely Beta and fated mate.”

I looked up through bleary eyes to see Alpha Samuel sliding onto the barstool next to me. Mason’s uncle. The current frontrunner for pack Chairman. Just seeing him made my stomach clench—he had Mason’s eyes.

Even through my drunken haze, I could appreciate Samuel’s rugged good looks. Where Mason was tidy and well-groomed, Samuel looked like he couldn’t care less. His presence made my wolf stir with interest despite our grief.

“Shouldn’t you be at the wedding reception?” I slurred, signaling the bartender for another shot.

“Shouldn’t you?” He caught the bartender’s eye and ordered two more. “Though I can understand wanting to escape that particular spectacle. My nephew’s always been ambitious, but this…this is cold even for him.”

The whiskey burned going down. “He chose his precious political career over our mate bond.”

“Foolish boy.” Samuel’s hand found my knee under the bar, hot and heavy through my dress. “Any real wolf would know that mate bonds are sacred. Politics be damned.”

Maybe it was the alcohol dissolving my inhibitions. Maybe it was the hurt and rage burning in my chest. 

But suddenly, I had an inkling through my drunken haze—what better revenge than seducing Mason’s precious uncle? The man whose approval he desperately needed to become Chairman?

“You’re right.” I leaned closer, deliberately letting my aroused scent wash over him. “Real wolves know what matters.”

Samuel’s pupils dilated, black nearly swallowing the gold. “Careful, little Beta. You’re playing with fire.”

I silenced him with a messy kiss. He groaned into my mouth, his hands finding my waist.

“Not here,” he growled against my lips. “Too many eyes.”

We barely made it to his office down the street. The sex was rough and animalistic—nothing like Mason’s slow lovemaking. 

Samuel took what he wanted and I let him, desperate to feel anything besides the gaping hole in my chest where my mate bond used to be.

I passed out afterwards on his leather couch. When I woke, Samuel was already dressed in a fresh suit, looking completely unruffled as he worked at his desk.

“Here.” He didn’t look up as he held out a business card. “I can’t offer you much, but call if you need anything. Money, protection—whatever.”

The dismissal was clear. I’d been used and discarded, just like Mason had done.

I was still struggling to process my shame when Mason’s voice cut through my mind, through our mindlink: “My office. Now.”

The alpha command hit like a bucket of ice water, making me whimper. How much did he know?

As I stumbled to gather my clothes, one thought kept circling through my pounding head—I’d just made everything so much worse.