The Wrong Mate

CHAPTER 5

When I get home, Landon is waiting for me.

He’s leaning against the porch railing like he belongs there, like this house is already his territory and he’s just humoring the illusion that it isn’t. His posture is relaxed, arms loose, shoulders easy, but his eyes sharpen the second I step out of the trees. They rake over me in one slow, deliberate sweep.

I know exactly what he sees.

Dirt smeared along my calves and thighs. Leaves tangled in my hair. Thin scratches crisscrossing my arms. Sweat still cooling on my skin, the scent of the forest clinging to me like a second coat.

“You went for a run,” he says, not asking.

I stop short at the edge of the yard, my boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. Every instinct in me bristles, my wolf pushing close to the surface again, hackles half-raised.

“You don’t get to comment on what I do,” I say flatly.

His mouth twitches, the hint of a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. “You’re filthy.”

“I don’t care.”

He straightens from the railing and folds his arms across his chest. “You should. People will start noticing things like this.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “People already notice everything about me. You made sure of that.”

For just a second, something flickers in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or annoyance. Then it’s gone, smoothed over by that calm, infuriating certainty he wears like armor.

“You need to start shadowing my mother,” he says.

I blink, sure I misheard him. “Excuse me?”

“So you can learn how to be a good Luna,” he continues smoothly, like he’s discussing the weather or pack patrol schedules. “She’ll show you what’s expected. Appearances. Duties. Protocol. It’ll help you settle into your role.”

“My role,” I repeat, my voice dropping.

“Yes.”

I step closer, close enough that he can probably smell the forest still clinging to me, the wolf still riding too close to my skin. My pulse thrums loud in my ears.

“I want to reject you,” I say flat out. “I don’t want you as a mate.”

The air tightens between us, thick and electric.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t accept that.”

Anger flares hot and bright, burning through my chest. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“The moon goddess already did,” he replies evenly. “She gave you to me for a reason.”

“I’m not a gift,” I snap.

He ignores that completely. “Because you’re the best person for the job. And if you’re going to do it, you’ll do it perfectly.”

Something in me snaps so hard it feels physical, like a bone breaking clean.

“If you think,” I say, each word slow and deliberate, “that you have a right to start telling me what to do right now, I will kill you and make it look like a f*****g accident.”

Silence slams down between us.

Heavy. Charged. Dangerous.

Landon studies me, really studies me this time, his gaze sharp and calculating. He knows. He knows I mean it. He knows I wouldn’t hesitate if he pushed me far enough. The knowledge doesn’t scare him.

If anything, it seems to interest him.

A slow smile curves his mouth. “That temper,” he says quietly. “People underestimate it.”

“I’m not people.”

“No,” he agrees. “You’re not.”

He pushes off the railing and takes a step closer. “Maybe we should start spending some time together.”

I stiffen instantly. “What?”

He tilts his head slightly. “Meals. Dates. That sort of thing. Getting to know each other properly instead of the versions we’ve built in our heads.”

I stare at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “I already have a boyfriend.”

His gaze hardens, something sharp cutting through his expression. “I’m your mate. That outranks a boyfriend.”

“I know that,” I snap, my hands curling into fists. “But I can’t just ignore Corey like he never existed.”

The words barely leave my mouth before I feel it.

That shift in the air.

That familiar presence sliding into the space behind me like it’s always belonged there.

I turn.

Corey stands in the doorway.

He looks calm. Too calm. Like something inside him has already gone quiet, already accepted something he shouldn’t have had to accept. He’s dressed, keys dangling loosely from his fingers, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

My heart stutters violently, like it forgets how to beat.

“Corey,” I breathe.

He meets my eyes, and for a split second, I see everything we’re about to lose flicker there. Every stolen laugh. Every late night. Every promise whispered like it mattered.

Then he schools his expression.

“It’s fine,” he says. “This is what’s best for the pack. And for the both of us.”

My chest tightens painfully. “What are you saying?”

He swallows once. “I’ve made my decision.”

Landon nods, slow and approving. “That’s a good idea.”

“No,” I say, panic spiking sharp and sudden, clawing its way up my throat. “No, it’s not.”

Corey doesn’t look away from me. “I’m leaving.”

The word hits me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

“You can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” he replies softly. “This ends the fighting. It ends the pressure on you.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together.

My breathing goes shallow and uneven. My hands start to tremble. The walls of the world feel like they’re closing in, too fast, too tight, pressing in from every direction.

Landon steps closer, his hand closing around my arm, firm and unyielding. “Don’t.”

“Let go of me,” I gasp, panic flooding my chest.

“You’re not chasing after him,” he says, voice calm and immovable.

“I need to talk to him,” I plead, my vision starting to blur. “Please. Just let me talk to him.”

Corey takes a step back toward the door. “It’s okay, Chey.”

It’s not okay.

Nothing about this is okay.

My heart is racing so fast it feels like it might burst out of my chest. I can’t get enough air. I claw at Landon’s grip, my fingers numb and useless.

“Corey,” I sob.

Landon tightens his hold, anchoring me whether I want it or not. “He’s made his choice.”

“So have I,” I choke. “And it’s him.”

Corey hesitates.

Just for a second.

Then he turns away.

I fight harder, panic spiraling out of control, my wolf slamming against my ribs, screaming to run, to chase, to stop this before it becomes permanent.

“Don’t let him leave,” I beg, my voice breaking completely.

Landon doesn’t budge.

The front door opens. Closes.

I hear footsteps on gravel outside.

Then the unmistakable sound of a car door opening.

I scream Corey’s name, the sound tearing out of me raw and broken, my throat burning with it.

Landon pulls me back as the engine turns over.

“They won’t let me talk you out of it,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, even though Corey can’t hear me anymore.

Through the front window, I see his car at the end of the drive.

Packed. Loaded. Ready.

He doesn’t look back.

The tires crunch over gravel.

And then he’s gone.

The silence that follows is unbearable.

It presses in on me, thick and suffocating. My knees finally give out and I collapse against Landon’s chest, not because I want comfort, but because my body simply can’t hold itself together anymore. My lungs burn. My head spins. Every part of me feels like it’s tearing apart from the inside.

“This is for the best,” Landon says quietly, his voice steady.

I laugh, broken and hysterical, the sound ugly and wrong. “You just took everything from me.”

He doesn’t answer.

I stare at the empty driveway, at the space Corey used to occupy, and I know with terrifying clarity that something fundamental has shifted. Something has been ripped loose that won’t ever settle back into place.

The bond hums under my skin, insistent and unwanted, like a chain tightening one link at a time.

And for the first time, I truly understand just how cruel fate can be.