After My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Me

I woke with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs as if trying to escape. The familiar walls of my Omega quarters came into focus—the thin mattress, the single window letting in a sliver of moonlight, the worn wooden floor I'd scrubbed countless times. But something was wrong. No, something was exactly right. My lungs filled with the scent of night air, pine, and something else—something that made my wolf, Lyra, stir uneasily within me.

I knew this night. I'd lived through it once before, and I'd died because of it.

*Remember*, Lyra whispered in my mind, her voice urgent. *Remember everything.*

I pressed my thumb hard into my palm, grounding myself as I looked at the calendar on my wall. The date glared back at me in cruel black ink—the night of Aidan's poisoning. The night I'd sacrificed everything to save him, only to be discarded like trash.

The mate pull tugged at me—that familiar, magnetic force that had kept me tethered to Aidan for a decade. In my previous life, I'd followed it blindly to his quarters, pushed open the door, and offered myself as the vessel to draw out the rogue poison. I'd felt noble, selfless. I'd felt needed.

But now, as my feet moved toward his wing of the pack house, I stopped myself in the dimly lit hallway. I could still smell the poison—a sickly-sweet undertone in the air—and I knew what came next. Melina would be making her way to his quarters right now, scheming, planning.

I turned a corner and there she was—Melina Henderson, her honey-blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight, her steps quick and purposeful. She froze when she saw me, her practiced smile faltering for just a moment before snapping back into place.

"Ashlyn, what a surprise," she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. "I was just heading to check on Aidan. I heard he wasn't feeling well."

In my first life, I'd let her pass. I'd even helped her, believing her concern was genuine. What a fool I'd been.

"Actually," I said, my voice steadier than I expected, "I think you should go to him now. He needs you."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she recovered quickly. "Oh, I couldn't possibly intrude—"

"It's no intrusion," I cut her off, stepping aside and gesturing toward his door. "He's waiting for you."

Something flickered in her eyes—satisfaction, triumph—before she masked it with concern. "Well, if you insist..."

She brushed past me, her shoulder deliberately knocking into mine as she slipped into his room. I watched her go, feeling nothing but cold clarity. As the door closed behind her, I reached out and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

Then, with deliberate focus, I closed my eyes and imagined a thread—the mate bond that had tied me to Aidan since I was sixteen. In my mind, I took hold of my end and severed it with a single, decisive cut. The pain was immediate and searing, but I