My Mate Faked My Death to Crown His Mistress

Three hundred and sixty-five days. That was how long it had been since I last smelled the pine and damp earth of the Silver Moon Pack territory. My combat boots were caked in mud from three different continents, and the tactical vest clinging to my ribs felt heavier than usual, weighed down by the exhaustion of a year-long war.

I shifted the strap of my duffel bag, wincing as it dug into a healing shrapnel wound on my shoulder. The Rogue King’s network was dismantled, his lieutenants were in chains, and I, Aria McDonald, Commander of the Royal Guard, was finally home.

"Nearly there," I whispered to my wolf, Nyx. She paced restlessly in the back of my mind, her tail thumping a rhythm of pure anxiety and excitement. She wanted to run, to howl, to throw herself at our mate, Alpha Jaxxon. I couldn't blame her. The silence between us for the last year had been a necessary torture—covert ops demanded zero communication—but the ache in my chest where the mate bond sat dormant was a physical bruise.

I stepped up to the perimeter gate, the metal cold under the moonlight. I reached for the biometric scanner, my thumb hovering over the glass. I was already imagining Jaxxon’s face. Would he be angry I was gone so long? Or would he just pull me into that crushing hug of his, the one that made the rest of the world disappear?

I pressed my thumb down.

*BZZZT.*

A harsh red light flashed, followed by a mechanical voice that shattered the night’s silence. **"Access Denied. Biometric signature not recognized. Intruder alert."**

I blinked, pulling my hand back as if burned. "What?"

Before I could try again, the perimeter floodlights blinded me. Sirens began to wail, cutting through the serene forest air. Two border patrol wolves burst from the guard shack, shifting mid-stride. They were Deltas I had trained myself—Miller and Ross.

"Stand down!" I barked, my voice dropping into the command tone of a high-ranking officer. "It's me! Aria!"

The wolves skidded to a halt, their hackles raised, sniffing the air. Confusion rippled through them. They knew my scent. Vanilla and gunpowder. It was unmistakable. Miller whined, shifting back into his human form, naked and shivering in the cool air.

"Commander Aria?" he stammered, his eyes wide with something that looked like terror. "But... you're..."

"I'm tired, Miller. Open the gate," I snapped, bypassing the keypad and vaulting over the steel fence with a grunt of effort. They didn't stop me. They were too paralyzed by shock.

I didn't wait for an explanation. I broke into a run toward the Pack House, my heart hammering a warning rhythm against my ribs. Something was wrong. The air tasted stale, heavy with a scent I couldn't place.

When the Pack House came into view, I skidded to a halt, the gravel tearing up beneath my boots. My breath caught in my throat.

The grand white mansion, usually beaming with welcoming golden light, was