After My Alpha Chose Her, I Fled

Pain radiated through my body as consciousness returned, the scent of medicinal herbs and antiseptic filling my nostrils. The pack healer's den was quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors and my own labored breathing. I tried to move, wincing as fire shot through my abdomen—a reminder of Emma's difficult birth just days ago.

Through the haze of pain medication, I recalled Dr. Alistair's grave expression: "You nearly died, Luna Isabella. The hemorrhaging was severe. You must rest completely."

My wolf, Aurora, stirred within me, her presence warm and protective. *Our pup is safe. Our Emma survived.*

I smiled weakly, grateful for the small mercy. Blake had been here earlier—hadn't he? The memory was foggy. My mate, my Alpha, my childhood sweetheart... surely he'd been by my side during the worst of it?

A door creaked somewhere in the healing den. Voices drifted from the adjacent examination room, muffled but growing clearer as a door was left partially open.

"The pregnancy is progressing beautifully," Dr. Alistair's voice carried through. "Much smoother than our Luna's difficult case."

My ears perked up. Another pregnant she-wolf in our pack? I hadn't heard of anyone else expecting.

"Thank you, Doctor." A female voice, unfamiliar yet somehow familiar, responded. "Blake has been so worried."

*Blake?*

Aurora suddenly went rigid within me, her awareness sharpening like a blade. A scent wafted through the crack in the door—a female wolf, unmistakably pregnant, and carrying...

*Mate's scent. Our mate's scent is on her.*

The monitor beside me began beeping faster as my heart rate spiked. With effort that sent daggers of pain through my healing body, I pushed myself up on trembling arms.

"Blake, darling, you don't need to worry so much." The female voice again, sweet and lilting. "Rachel and baby are perfectly healthy."

My blood turned to ice. *Rachel?* Who was Rachel?

I reached for our mate bond, that sacred connection blessed by the Moon Goddess herself, trying to send my confusion, my fear through our mind-link.

*Blake? What's happening?*

Nothing. The bond felt... muted. Blocked.

Aurora whined, pawing desperately at the wall between us and our mate. *Wrong. Something is wrong.*

With strength I didn't know I possessed, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Pain tore through my abdomen, but I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. One step. Another. The cold floor beneath my bare feet grounded me as I approached the partially open door.

Through the crack, I saw them.

Blake—my Blake—stood with his arm around a beautiful she-wolf with copper hair. His hand rested possessively on her slightly rounded belly. Dr. Alistair was showing them something on a monitor, but I couldn't focus on that. All I could see was the tender way Blake looked at this woman, the way his thumb stroked circles on her stomach.

The exact way he had touched me when I carried Emma.

"I want the best care for my chosen mate," Blake was saying, his voice filled with a warmth that had been absent when he'd briefly visited me. "Nothing can go wrong with this pregnancy."

*Chosen mate.*

Two words that shattered my world.

Aurora howled in agony within me, the sound echoing in the hollow chamber of my chest where our mate bond had once burned bright. I stumbled backward, knocking over a tray of instruments that clattered to the floor.

Three heads snapped toward the noise, toward me.

Blake's eyes widened, a flash of something—guilt?—crossing his face before his expression hardened into the impassive mask of an Alpha.

"Isabella," he said coolly. "You should be resting."

The woman—Rachel—smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Oh! You must be the Luna. Blake mentioned you had a difficult delivery. I'm so sorry."

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. My legs gave out, and Dr. Alistair rushed to catch me before I hit the floor.

"Luna Isabella needs rest," he said firmly, shooting Blake a look I couldn't interpret. "Alpha, perhaps this discussion can continue later?"

Blake nodded curtly, guiding Rachel toward the exit. Neither looked back.

Somehow, I made it back to our quarters—*my* quarters now, it seemed. The space felt foreign, cold. On the bookshelf sat the leather-bound diary that held 999 pages of our love story. Every milestone, every precious moment from our first shift together to our marking ceremony, documented in our alternating handwriting.

With trembling hands, I took it down, opened to the first page. Blake's neat script described the day he first realized he loved me, at ten years old when I'd fallen from a tree and he'd carried me all the way to the pack healer.

Aurora whimpered as I struck a match, holding the flame to the corner of that first precious page. The paper curled, blackened, and turned to ash.

As the first page of our love story burned between my fingers, I felt something inside me begin to die.