Betrayed by my Mate, Accepted by his Father

Three

Chapter 3:

Reina’s POV

The mockery was a constant hum in the packhouse. "Rejected Luna." "Weak wolf." Every whisper was a fresh stab, but now, instead of bleeding, I just felt colder. Harder. They thought they'd broken me? Cute. They just forged a weapon.

My wolf, once a whimpering mess, was now a coiled spring of pure, unadulterated rage. It demanded more than just Mateo groveling. It demanded a spectacle.

A public, undeniable victory that would make every single one of those gossiping wolves choke on their words.

Lying in my bed, the humiliation still fresh, my mind raced. How to hit Mateo where it truly hurt?

His pride. His future. His Alpha status. And that's when the idea, cold and brilliant, solidified. Like a diamond forged in hellfire.

Justin Williams. The Alpha. Mateo's father.

My wolf let out a low, dangerous purr. “Yes.” This was it. If I couldn't be Mateo's Luna, then I would become “Justin's”.

I would sit on that throne, the one Mateo was meant to inherit, and I would watch him burn. He'd see me, the girl he threw away, ruling his world. And then, oh then, he would prostrate himself. He would beg. He would repent. And I would enjoy every single second of it.

It was insane. Forbidden. Dangerous. But the thought sent a thrill through me that was more potent than any pain.

My first step was intel. I started observing Alpha Justin more closely. Not just from afar, but subtly, like a shadow. I learned his routines. He was a creature of habit, surprisingly. Early morning training, long hours in his office, pack meetings. And then, late at night, always alone, he'd have his dinner. Always delivered to his private study.

“Bingo.”

The kitchen. That was my way in. It was a lowly job, usually for younger, unmarried wolves, or those who preferred to stay out of pack politics. Perfect. No one would suspect a thing.

I found Mrs. Evelyn, the head cook, a plump, bustling she-wolf with a kind face but sharp eyes. She was kneading dough, flour dusting her apron.

"Mrs. Evelyn," I said, trying to sound humble, a little lost.

"I... I'm looking for something to do. To keep busy. To heal." I even managed a small, sad sigh. Oscar-worthy, if I do say so myself.

She looked at me, her eyes softening. "Oh, Reina, dear. I heard what happened. Such a shame.

You're too good for that Mateo." She patted my hand. "But the kitchen? It's hard work, child. Not for a Luna-to-be."

"I'm not a Luna-to-be anymore, Mrs. Evelyn," I said, letting a hint of bitterness creep into my voice. "And hard work is exactly what I need. To forget. To feel useful." I gave her my best "broken but brave" smile.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Well, we do need an extra hand for the evening shift. Mostly prep, and... well, someone has to take the Alpha his dinner. He likes it delivered personally, late, when he's working."

My wolf did a silent victory dance. Jackpot. "I can do that, Mrs. Evelyn. I'd be honored."

She smiled. "Good girl. Start tonight. And don't worry, you'll be fine. Alpha Justin is a busy man, but he's always polite."

Polite. Oh, I was counting on it. Polite was easy to manipulate.

That night, my heart hammered a different rhythm. Not fear, not pain. Pure, electric anticipation.

This wasn't just about delivering dinner; this was about delivering a message. A very clear, very unsubtle message.

Mrs. Evelyn had given me a standard, baggy kitchen uniform. But I wasn't standard. And I certainly wasn't baggy. I spent an hour in my room, scissors and needle in hand.

The top part? I cut it down. Deep. So deep it almost had my breasts falling out. No bra.

Absolutely not. I wanted my n*****s to be clearly visible, pressing against the thin fabric. I was counting on the fact that an Alpha, especially the Alpha, would have excellent eyesight. He was going to see it. He had to.

To cover my little "alteration" from the other kitchen staff, I wore a large, thick kitchen cape around my neck, tied tightly. It hid everything. I looked like a perfectly innocent, slightly clumsy kitchen helper. My wolf snickered. “Perfect.”

The tray was heavy, laden with Alpha Justin's favorite roasted game and vegetables. I walked through the quiet packhouse, my steps light, my mind buzzing. This was it. My first real move. My first direct assault.

I reached his study door. Took a deep breath. Untied the cape. Let it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. My chest felt exposed, vulnerable, but also powerful. This was for Mateo. This was for me.

I knocked softly. "Alpha Justin? Your dinner."

"Enter," his deep voice rumbled from inside.

I pushed the door open. The study was huge, filled with books, maps, and the scent of old leather and Alpha power.

Justin sat behind a massive desk, papers spread out, a serious look on his face. He looked up, his golden-brown eyes meeting mine. That familiar, intense gaze.

He paused. His eyes, those sharp, Alpha eyes, swept over me. They lingered for a fraction of a second on my chest, on the daring cut of the uniform, on the clear outline beneath the fabric. My heart pounded. “He sees it. He has to.”

"Reina," he acknowledged, his voice calm, almost bored. "Thank you."

He didn't flinch. He didn't blush. He didn't even raise an eyebrow. Just a brief, unreadable flicker in those golden-brown depths.

I walked to his desk, placing the tray down carefully. I leaned in just a fraction, letting my scent, mixed with the subtle musk I'd dabbed on, waft towards him. My uniform gaped even more as I bent. "Is there anything else, Alpha?" I asked, my voice a little softer, a little breathier than usual.

My eyes lingered on his strong hands, then flickered up to his lips. A clear invitation. An innuendo hanging in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

He picked up his fork. "No, Reina. That will be all." He didn't even look at me. Just at his food. Like it was the most fascinating thing in the room.

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. “Seriously?” I tried again. As I turned to leave, I let my hip brush against the edge of his desk, a deliberate, lingering touch. I glanced back, a small, hopeful, provocative smile on my face.

He was already eating. Completely oblivious. Or pretending to be.