My Alpha Crowned His Mistress at Our Ceremony

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, fingers trembling slightly as I dabbed concealer over the purplish bruise blooming across my cheekbone. The final underground fight had been the worst one yet. The Rogue I'd faced had fought dirty—claws to the face when the rules clearly stated no striking above the neck. But I'd won. And the money would cover the Alpha Coronation feast tonight.

"Almost there," I whispered to myself, applying another layer of heavy foundation. "Just a few more hours."

My wolf, Luna, stirred restlessly within me. *We shouldn't have to hide our scars. They're badges of honor.*

"Quiet," I muttered. "You know how important tonight is."

Mason was being crowned Alpha of the Silverfang Pack tonight. After years of sacrifice—my blood, my dignity, my safety—we were finally going to reap the rewards. He'd promised to mark me as his Luna during the ceremony. Tonight, everything would change.

I smoothed down the simple black dress I'd chosen, the most formal thing I owned. It wasn't the elaborate gown a Luna should wear, but Mason had made it clear I needed to "stay in the background" until the marking ceremony. Something about not wanting to "confuse the pack" before everything was official.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I quickly capped the concealer and opened it to find Mason's Beta, Derek, looking uncomfortable.

"The Alpha requests your presence," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

I nodded, following him through the pack house corridors. Wolves nodded respectfully as we passed, though I noticed how their eyes slid away from mine. They still didn't know I was Mason's mate. To them, I was just Harold Foster's daughter—the girl with the weak wolf who somehow managed pack finances.

Mason stood in his ceremonial quarters, surrounded by members of the council. They fell silent as I entered, their expressions ranging from curiosity to disdain.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the sudden tension in the room.

Mason didn't turn immediately. He was adjusting his ceremonial robes—blood-red silk embroidered with silver thread. The Alpha's colors.

"Yes," he finally said, still not looking at me. "I wanted to remind you about tonight."

His voice sounded strange—booming and artificial. I knew why. The steroids I'd procured for him were working overtime today, enhancing his Beta-level wolf into something more commanding. Something worthy of an Alpha.

"The ceremony starts at moonrise," he continued, adjusting his shoulders. "Stay in the back. Don't draw attention to yourself."

One of the council members—Marcus Dean, Aura's father—cleared his throat. "And the... arrangement we discussed?"

Mason nodded. "Jocelyn understands her place."

I froze. What arrangement? What was he talking about?

"Of course," I said carefully, watching Mason's face for any hint of what was happening.

Finally, he turned to look at me, but his eyes didn't meet mine. "Wear something... appropriate. And stay out of sight until I call for you."

---

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as pack members gathered for the ceremony. I stood at the back, just as instructed, watching Mason take center stage. He looked powerful in his Alpha robes, every inch the leader the Silverfang Pack needed.

"Today marks a new era for our pack!" Mason's voice rang out, enhanced by the steroids I'd paid for with my blood money. "I, Mason Elliott, accept the mantle of Alpha!"

The pack howled their approval, and I felt a surge of pride despite my growing unease. This was our moment—years of struggle culminating in this one night.

After the formal acceptance, Mason raised his hand for silence. "As Alpha, I have made a decision that will shape the future of our pack."

My heart pounded. This was it—he was going to announce me as his Luna.

"I have formed a strategic alliance that will save our pack from financial ruin," Mason continued, his voice echoing through the hall.

Confusion washed over me. Strategic alliance?

The main doors swung open, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Aura Dean glided in, her perfect figure draped in Luna's ceremonial silk robes—silver-white, the color of purity and power.

"What is she doing?" I whispered, but no one answered.

Aura's expensive foreign perfume reached me even from across the room as she took her place beside Mason. Her smile was radiant as she gazed adoringly at him.

"Our pack needs strength," Mason announced. "And the alliance with the Dean Pack will bring us that strength."

I stepped forward, unable to believe what was happening. "Mason?"

He didn't even look at me.

Aura's smile widened as she snapped her fingers. The lights dimmed, and a projector whirred to life behind them.

"What is this?" someone asked.

The holographic display flickered, then clarified into crystal-clear footage of me—fighting in the underground pits, blood streaming from my nose as I knocked out a Rogue twice my size.

Gasps echoed through the hall. Then the image changed: me handing stacks of cash to shadowy figures in alleyways.

"This," Aura announced, her voice dripping with disgust, "is the woman your Alpha has been protecting. A traitorous rogue-lover. A filthy whore who sold herself for money."

The pack's horrified stares burned into me as Aura continued her vicious attack, each word driving deeper than any claw ever could.

"And now," she finished triumphantly, "she wants to be your Luna."

Mason stood beside Aura, his expression solemn as he nodded in agreement with her lies.