My Husband Flaunted His Pregnant Mistress In Front Of Our Entire Pack — Until I Stumbled Upon Her Sickening Secret

Part 2

I choked on my own inhale, the sharp crack of wood echoing endlessly through the trees.

Dan snapped his head directly toward my hiding spot, his pupils dilating into pure, lethal intent.

I pivoted sharply on my heel, sprinting blindly into the dense, scratching underbrush.

Heavy footsteps thundered against the damp earth behind me, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

A massive, calloused palm clamped securely over my mouth before a single cry for help could escape my lips.

Dan yanked me backward against a solid chest, wrapping his free arm around my ribs like a crushing vice.

Heather strolled casually out from the deep shadows, taking her sweet time smoothing down her rumpled gold dress.

Her wide-eyed, innocent expression dropped away completely, her features sharpening into a hard, unyielding sneer.

She invaded my personal space, whispering that tragic, fatal accidents frequently befell Lunas wandering the woods unaccompanied.

The bodyguard squeezed my ribs tighter on cue, his suffocating grip emphasizing her thinly veiled threat.

I forced my muscles to go completely limp, simply staring her down without blinking.

She scoffed loudly at my silence, waving a dismissive hand for her lover to release me.

She advised me to keep my mouth firmly shut, flashing a final, mocking smile before turning away.

I stumbled back into the crowded safety of the hotel, furiously rubbing the lingering bruises already forming on my arms.

I spent the next month biting my tongue until it bled, plastering on a fake smile for Heather’s extravagant baby shower on our estate’s lawns.

I hovered near the periphery of the party, watching the attending sycophants pile brightly wrapped gifts at her feet.

Megan slipped unnoticed through the distracted crowd, pressing a heavy, wax-sealed envelope directly into my palms.

My eyes scanned the formal calligraphy arriving from the leopard territory, breaking the thick red seal with a flick of my thumb.

Tyler’s older brother had finally succumbed to a long illness, officially elevating Tyler to the rank of Alpha.

A bloodcurdling shriek fractured the peaceful afternoon air before the massive political ramifications could even register.

I whipped my head around, spotting Nicole thrusting a violently trembling finger toward the center of the gathering.

Heather thrashed and convulsed violently on the manicured grass, a spilled silver goblet rolling near her twitching fingers.

Thick, white foam bubbled steadily past her rapidly darkening, bluish lips.

Craig shoved violently through the circle of horrified guests, crashing to his knees in the dirt.

He hauled her limp torso against his chest, frantically shaking her shoulders.

Her eyes remained completely fixed, staring blankly up at the cloudless sky.

The estate healers rushed onto the scene moments later, immediately identifying the distinct, bitter odor of concentrated nightshade.

Craig threw his head back, unleashing a deafening, feral roar that visibly rattled the nearby mansion windows.

He whirled aggressively toward the edge of the crowd, locking his glowing golden eyes exactly on my position.

A breathless guard sprinted onto the lawn right on cue, clutching a small crystal vial and a familiar leatherbound journal.

The guard stammered out his damning report, announcing he had uncovered the deadly toxins explicitly hidden beneath my private floorboards.

A collective gasp rippled through our once-loyal allies as they backed away from me as if I carried the plague.

I remained rooted firmly to the spot, the sheer, theatrical audacity of the frame-up robbing my vocal cords of oxygen.

As Craig ordered his guards to drag me to the dungeons, I looked into his eyes and realized the horrifying truth: who had actually planted the poison?