A Pregnant Guest Had a Breakdown at My Christmas Party — Then Confessed She ‘Killed’ Me in an Alternate Timeline

Part 1

I should have known this Christmas Eve was cursed the moment Brenda cornered me by the punch bowl.

She flashed a paint-by-numbers smile that didn’t reach her cold eyes.

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it could double as a medieval torture device.

She immediately wanted to know what I got Tyler for Christmas.

I shrugged my shoulders and told her it was nothing big.

Her ensuing laugh sounded exactly like windchimes made of pure condescension.

She tilted her head, her voice dripping with weaponized, fake sympathy.

She told me it must be so incredibly hard finding a gift when we’ve only been together a few short months.

She actually had the nerve to bring up the fact that she used to date him.

My brain screeched to a halt like a sports car hitting black ice.

I stared at this utterly beige woman, trying to picture my strong, commanding mate with someone so relentlessly boring.

My mind flat-out refused to process the grotesque image.

She leaned in and offered to give me advice since she supposedly knew him better than I ever could.

I shut that nonsense down immediately.

I told her I know exactly what my mate likes, turned on my heel, and walked away before my wolf surfaced.

Honestly, I was still workshopping a few good crass sexual innuendos in my head when the disaster struck.

A massive cracking sound echoed from outside, plunging the entire packed room into stunned silence.

It felt like a mandated minute of silence to honor the freshly dead.

The enormous fifteen-foot Christmas tree we had spent all afternoon decorating had just committed suicide via gravity.

Through the frosted front window, I saw the tragic, sparkling aftermath.

Fairy lights were tangled in frozen, chaotic knots.

Expensive ornaments were scattered across the snowy driveway like the remnants of a festive glitter bomb.

Pine branches sprawled over the frost in total, humiliating defeat.

A guy standing near the door whispered a panicked curse under his breath.

Another anxious guest immediately looked around the room and asked where Tyler was.

Someone else chimed in, whining loudly that Tyler would have checked the wooden stand.

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got permanently stuck in the back of my head.

Seriously, do these helpless people need my mate to tell them when to breathe?

He is the literal other half of my soul, and even I don’t cling to him this desperately.

A nervous younger wolf approached me, clearly about to ask what we should do next.

I cut him off completely before he could even open his mouth.

I told him Tyler wasn’t here, the tree fell, deal with it, keep calm, and move on.

I muttered quietly to myself that we were just having a rustic, authentic holiday experience.

It was definitely better than last year’s absolute disaster with the terrible elf costumes.

The young guy started to say something about looking for me, but he never finished his sentence.

Every single light in the massive pack house instantly died.

We were plunged into absolute, suffocating, pitch-black darkness.

Someone in the back of the room screamed like they were being actively murdered.

I yelled over the rising panic, ordering everyone to stay in their spots.

I told the crowd it was probably just a blown fuse or the backup generator failing.

A frustrated voice called out from the hallway, confirming the secondary power wasn’t kicking in.

Of course the expensive failsafe wasn’t working tonight of all nights.

I shouted into the darkness, asking if anyone had a working flashlight.

A dozen phone screens illuminated the darkness, creating tiny, ghostly pools of pale light.

I quickly started assigning tasks like a seasoned battlefield commander.

I sent one capable group to check the basement generator and another to find emergency supplies.

I ordered everyone else to just stay put, drink their beverages, and chill out.

Internally, my inner wolf was pacing frantically and screaming at the top of her lungs.

We had fifty hungry people expecting a warm dinner, and I had absolutely no idea where Tyler was.

Craig suddenly appeared out of the shadows with an armful of thick emergency candles.

I told him to start lighting them everywhere so we could pretend this was a romantic aesthetic instead of a total disaster.

He looked deeply confused, but I patted his broad shoulder and told him to fake it till he made it.

Soon, the entire main floor was glowing with warm, flickering golden light.

The dancing shadows cast against the timber walls actually looked incredibly atmospheric and beautiful.

Conversations slowly dropped to hushed, intimate tones as the panic finally subsided.

I surveyed the sprawling room, mentally checking off disasters, when Craig returned with a loaded tray.

He carried steaming ceramic mugs that smelled strongly of cinnamon, alcohol, and holiday desperation.

Heather trailed right behind him, her face pale with mounting stress.

She whispered frantically that they had finished the remaining appetizers, but there was barely enough food left for ten people.

We urgently needed an actual main course to prevent a pack riot.

I looked around at the fifty oblivious guests casually sipping their drinks.

They hadn’t noticed the severe lack of food yet, but wolves have fast metabolisms and they absolutely would soon.

I turned back to Craig and ordered him to keep making the spiced eggnog.

I told him to make it extra strong and completely hide the harsh taste of the alcohol.

If they were heavily buzzed, maybe they wouldn’t notice we were basically starving them.

Craig nodded solemnly, accepting the dangerous mission with deadly seriousness.

I squared my shoulders, mentally preparing for my own impossible mission.

I was going to track down Dan and figure out how to order fifty large pizzas on Christmas Eve.

I shoved my dead phone into my pocket and started tracking Dan’s distinct scent.

I followed his signature, comforting blend of pine needles and aged whiskey through the maze of other smells.

I mentally patted myself on the back for using my shifter nose like a highly competent Luna.

The scent trail led me up the grand staircase, far away from the noisy main party.

I walked quietly down a carpeted hallway lined with ancient oil paintings of Tyler’s imposing ancestors.

They all stared down at me with serious, heavily judgmental expressions.

I muttered quietly at the paintings that they were dead and didn’t get a single vote on the pizza plan.

I stopped abruptly outside a slightly ajar oak door leading into a small private reception room.

I reached out for the cold brass handle, fully prepared to burst in and demand immediate food logistics.

Then I heard Rachel’s high-pitched, hysterical sobbing echoing from inside the room.

I groaned silently, dreading a full pregnant lady breakdown in the middle of this catastrophic night.

Through the narrow crack in the door, I heard her tell Dan she couldn’t take the guilt anymore.

She sobbed violently that she had to tell everyone the horrible truth.

Dan’s voice was low, incredibly urgent, and warning her to keep her mouth permanently shut.

Rachel’s voice cracked sharply as she cried that she couldn’t keep lying to Tyler every single day.

My hand completely froze on the icy metal doorknob.

She had just openly admitted to deceiving my mate.

Rachel took a massive, shuddering breath and pushed the impossible words out through her tears.

She said she had to tell him she purposefully broke us up in the alternate timeline.

I stopped breathing entirely as her next impossible words echoed heavily in the silent hallway.

I froze in the darkened hallway as the pregnant woman sobbed, confessing she had murdered me in an alternate timeline.