Rejected Mate's Justice

The scent hit me first—vanilla and musk intertwined in a way that made my stomach clench. I froze outside the storage room door, my hand still reaching for the handle as the sounds from within became unmistakable. Heavy breathing. Soft moans. The rustle of fabric being pushed aside.

My wolf, Lyra, whimpered in my mind, her silver presence recoiling as if struck. *No,* she whispered. *This cannot be.*

But it was. Through the crack in the door, I saw them—Carson, my mate, my Alpha, pressed against Bridget Foster, his hands tangled in her auburn hair as she arched against him. The moonlight streaming through the small window illuminated their entwined forms, casting shadows that seemed to mock the sacred bond I thought we shared.

"Carson." The word escaped my lips before I could stop it, barely a whisper but loud enough in the sudden silence.

They broke apart instantly. Carson's dark eyes met mine through the doorway, and for a split second, I saw something flicker across his face—guilt, perhaps, or surprise. But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it, replaced by something cold and hard that made my blood freeze.

"Elena." His voice carried that edge of authority I'd grown to love, but now it felt like a blade against my throat. "What are you doing here?"

Bridget smoothed down her disheveled dress, her lips still swollen from his kisses. The triumphant smirk that curved her mouth was like salt in an open wound. "Oh, Elena," she purred, not bothering to hide the satisfaction in her voice. "How... unfortunate."

I stepped into the room, my legs trembling but my spine straight. "I came looking for the healing supplies we discussed this morning." My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, too steady, too controlled. "The ones for the border patrol injuries."

Carson's jaw tightened. He moved away from Bridget, but not far enough. Never far enough. "Those can wait."

"Can they?" The words came out sharper than I intended. "Since when do injured pack members wait for their Alpha's... convenience?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Carson's eyes flashed with his wolf, and when he spoke, his voice carried the full weight of his Alpha tone—a command that should have driven me to my knees in submission.

"You will not speak to me that way, Elena. You will forget what you saw here, and you will leave. Now."

The Alpha tone crashed over me like a physical force, demanding obedience, compliance, silence. My knees buckled slightly, but something deeper than my wolf's instinct to submit kept me standing. The mate bond, frayed and bleeding as it was, still pulsed between us, and through it, I felt his emotions—not remorse, not love, but anger. Anger that I had caught him. Anger that I dared to question him.

"How long?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "How long has this been going on?"

Bridget stepped forward, her hand finding Carson's arm in a gesture of possession that