I Catch My Alpha with His Mistress

Aria's POV

The pain ripped through my chest at midnight.

I knew the exact number because the glowing digits on my phone seared themselves into my vision while I gasped for air, clutching my sternum like I'd been shot. But there was no bullet. No wound. Just him.

Thorne.

Through our bond—a connection that had tied us together for six years of marriage—I felt everything he was doing. Every touch. Every heated press of lips. The way his hands gripped another woman's hips while he buried himself inside her.

"Oh god," I whimpered, rolling onto my side.

The worst part wasn't the physical sensation of phantom pleasure that wasn't mine. It was the emotion bleeding through our link. Thorne's absolute, consuming desire for this woman. A burning need so intense it made our years together feel like ash.

He loved her. I felt it in every thrust, every desperate moan he let out. He fucking craved her in a way he'd never craved me.

My wolf whimpered inside me, wounded and confused. The animal didn't understand how our mate could betray us like this. Neither did the human part of me.

Then I felt it—the sharper, hotter pulse beneath everything else. Not just sex. Something older. His wolf reaching for hers. Recognizing her.

The mating mark.

He was marking her right now. While I lay in our bed, choking on bond-feedback that should have been impossible to share with anyone but me.

I dragged myself out of bed, legs unsteady. The hardwood floor was cold against my bare feet as I stumbled toward the kitchen. I needed water. I needed to not feel this.

But the bond was a cruel fucking thing.

Through it, I sensed his satisfaction. His completion. The way he held this woman—Lyla, some part of me knew her name—afterward. The tenderness in his touch when he brushed hair from her face.

He'd never been that gentle with me.

"Fuck," I breathed, gripping the edge of the counter. My claws extended involuntarily, scratching grooves into the marble. "Get it together, Aria."

I managed to pour a glass of water. Managed to drink it without spilling down my chin. But when I set the glass down, my hand was shaking so hard it clattered against the granite.

The front door opened at 4:23 AM.

I heard his heartbeat before I saw him. That familiar rhythm I'd memorized over six years. But there was another heartbeat now too. Faster. Lighter.

They walked in together.

Thorne's hair was disheveled, his shirt untucked and wrinkled. His collar gaped open, and even from across the room I could see the fresh mark on the side of his throat—still raw, still glistening. A claim.

She'd marked him too.

Lyla. Younger than me. Prettier. With this glow about her that screamed she'd just been thoroughly fucked by my husband—and that she'd just bitten him deep enough to bind their souls together.

"Aria." Thorne's voice was careful. Calculated. "You're awake."

"Hard to sleep," I said, hating how raw my voice sounded, "when you can feel your husband marking another woman."

Lyla flinched.

Good.

"Aria, please." Thorne stepped forward, positioning himself between me and Lyla. Protective. Of her. From me. "We need to talk."

"What's there to talk about?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I felt everything, Thorne. Every thrust. Every moan. The way you told her she was your fucking destiny while you were still inside her."

Silence stretched between us.

The bond between us had always been our greatest strength. As Alpha pair, we could sense each other's emotions, share pain, communicate without words. Now it was my greatest torture.

"She is my destiny," Thorne said quietly.

There it was.

Six years. Six years of being his wife, his partner, his fucking Luna. And he stood in our kitchen at 4 AM, reeking of another woman's sex, telling me she was his destiny.

"I didn't want you to find out this way," he continued, running a hand through his dark hair—the hair I'd run my fingers through countless times. "Lyla is my true mate. The bond proves it."

"The bond," I repeated flatly.

"Our partnership contract was political. You know that."

I did know. Our marriage had been arranged between packs to secure territory and peace. But somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with him. Stupid, stupid me.

"You let me believe you loved me," I whispered.

"I cared for you." His jaw tightened. "I still do. But Lyla—what I feel for her is beyond anything I've ever experienced."

Behind him, Lyla remained silent. But I noticed the way Thorne reached back, finding her hand, squeezing it. The gesture was so natural, so fucking intimate, that it made my stomach turn.

"The pack will need a new Luna," he said.

"The pack," I echoed. "Of course. Because that's what matters here. Not the woman who stood beside you for six years. Not the woman who helped you negotiate every treaty, fought beside you in every territory dispute, warmed your fucking bed when you asked."

"Aria—"

"No." I held up my hand. My claws had retracted, but my vision was blurring. Not from tears—I refused to cry in front of them—but from the sheer force of my rage. "I don't want your explanations. I don't want your fucking excuses."

Thorne's expression shifted. Hardened. The Alpha in him coming forward. "You'll need to vacate the Alpha residence. I've already had papers drawn up. The partnership contract can be dissolved by mutual agreement."

"By mutual agreement," I repeated.

"Sign the papers, and we'll provide you with suitable housing and financial support for six months while you—"

"While I what?" I cut him off. "Disappear? Make it easier for you to play house with your true mate?"

"Make it easier for everyone," Thorne said. His voice dropped lower. Dangerous. "The pack needs stability. A clear leadership structure. You dragging this out helps no one."

Lyla finally spoke. Her voice was softer than mine. Gentler. "I'm sorry, Aria. I never wanted—"

"Don't." I held up a hand, stopping her. "Don't you dare apologize to me. You won. You got what you wanted. Just... don't fucking pretend you care about how I feel about it."

Thorne guided Lyla toward the stairs. "We'll give you space to process. The papers are on the dining table. I expect your signature by morning."

They left me standing in the kitchen.

Alone.

The bond between Thorne and me hummed with his post-coital contentment. His satisfaction. His anticipation of a future with Lyla. He wasn't thinking about me at all.

I walked to the dining table on unsteady legs. There it was—a thick envelope with my name written in Thorne's handwriting. The dissolution of our partnership. The end of my role as Luna. The destruction of everything I'd built for six years.

My claws extended again.

I picked up the papers, my grip so tight the paper crumpled. I should sign them. Walk away. Let him have his true mate and his perfect fucking destiny.

But as I read the documents, something caught my eye. A clause I hadn't expected.

In the event of partnership dissolution, all territorial claims revert to original pack ownership, unless otherwise negotiated.

I read it again.

And again.

Thorne had secured our territory through our marriage. My pack—my family's pack—had brought significant land to the union. Land that, according to this contract, would revert to me upon dissolution.

Land that contained something Thorne desperately needed.

The hot springs. The sacred site where pack rituals were performed. Where the Alpha ceremony would take place to formally recognize Lyla as the new Luna.

Without that land, he couldn't complete the ritual.

My lips curved into a slow, wicked smile as I realized what I held in my hands.

I wouldn't disappear quietly. I wouldn't sign these papers tonight.

Let him sweat. Let him discover, when he tried to schedule his precious ceremony, exactly what his "mutual agreement" had cost him.

I folded the documents back into the envelope and tucked them under the fruit bowl, where I knew he'd see them in the morning. Untouched. Unsigned.

Then I went upstairs—not to our bedroom, where they were already settling in, but to the guest room at the end of the hall.

I locked the door from the inside.

And for the first time in six years, I refused to give Thorne Blackwood what he wanted.