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 draped in black bunting. Massive wreaths of black roses hung from the pillars. But it was the banner stretching across the second-floor balcony that made my knees weak.

*In Loving Memory of Aria McDonald – Our Fallen Hero. Gone but Not Forgotten.*

I stared at the vinyl, at my own face smiling back at me—a photo from three years ago, before the wars, before the scars.

"I'm not dead," I whispered, the words sounding foreign. Then, louder, fueled by a sudden, hot spike of panic. "I'm not dead!"

I stormed up the stairs, pounding my fist against the heavy oak doors. "Jaxxon! Jaxxon, open this door!"

The commotion drew attention. The front doors didn't open, but the balcony doors above did.

Jaxxon stepped out.

My breath hitched. He looked immaculate. He was wearing a black suit, his hair perfectly styled, the silver Alpha ring glinting on his finger. But his eyes... they weren't filled with the relief or tears I expected. They were cold. Calculating.

"Jaxxon!" I shouted, relief warring with confusion. "It's a mistake! I'm here! The mission is over!"

A crowd was gathering on the lawn behind me—pack members in pajamas, warriors with weapons drawn. They murmured, pointing, looking from me to the banner.

Jaxxon gripped the balcony railing, his knuckles white. He didn't look at me with love. He looked at me like I was a loose end he had forgotten to cut.

"Do not be fooled!" Jaxxon’s voice boomed, amplified by his Alpha aura. It rolled over the lawn like thunder. "This creature is not your future Luna! Aria McDonald died in the Rogue Lands a year ago. I have the certificate from the Council myself!"

"Jaxxon, what are you talking about?" I stepped back, my hands trembling. "Look at me. Smell me! It's Aria!"

"It is a trick!" he roared, pointing an accusing finger at me. "A Skin-Walker rogue wearing a dead woman's face to infiltrate our home! Warriors! Seize the imposter!"

"No!" I screamed, but before I could reach for my ID, Jaxxon unleashed it.

The Alpha Command.

It hit me like a physical blow, a crushing weight that slammed into my shoulders. **"KNEEL."**

The command bypassed my ears and went straight to my wolf. Nyx howled in agony, forced into submission by the bond we shared with him. My knees hit the gravel with a sickening crunch. I gasped for air, struggling to lift my head, to fight the unnatural pressure. This wasn't just a command; it was an assault. He was using our bond to crush me.

"Take her to the cells," Jaxxon ordered coldly, his eyes locking with mine. In that split second, I saw the truth. He knew it was me. He just didn't want me to be alive.

Betrayal, sharper than any blade, sliced through my chest. But I was not just a mate. I was the Commander of the Royal Guard.

*Nyx, focus!* I screamed internally.

Fighting the crushing weight of his aura, I moved my hand to my belt. Not for a weapon to kill, but for a distraction. My fingers closed around the cold metal of a flash-bang grenade.

"I am not a rogue," I gritted out, pulling the pin.

I dropped the canister at my feet and squeezed my eyes shut.

*BOOM.*

A blinding white light shattered the darkness, followed by a deafening ringing. The Alpha Command faltered as Jaxxon flinched. That split second was all I needed. I scrambled to my feet, adrenaline overriding the pain in my knees, and bolted toward the treeline.

I didn't look back at the house, or the banner, or the man who had just tried to bury me alive. I ran into the dark, a ghost in my own home.