I was supposed to be focusing on the quarterly pack alliance reports, but my mind kept drifting to Whiskers. Three days away from home was the longest I'd been separated from my cat since Lane and I had gotten him last year.

"Just check on him quickly," I murmured to myself, reaching for my phone on the hotel nightstand.

The smart pet feeder app opened with a soft chime. I'd installed the camera primarily to make sure Whiskers was eating regularly when we were both busy with pack duties. Now it served as my connection to home while I was away on Bennett Pack business.

"Come on, kitty," I whispered, watching the screen as the feeder automatically dispensed his dinner. "Show mama you're—"

My words died in my throat.

A hand appeared on screen—not mine, not Lane's. Slender fingers with pale pink nails reached for Whiskers' bowl, moving it slightly to adjust its position.

"Such a picky eater," a feminine voice cooed. "Just like always."

Whiskers meowed in response, his tail swishing in that particular way he did when he wanted attention.

"Here you go, baby," the voice continued. "Your favorite tuna treats."

I froze, my finger hovering over the screen. Whiskers never responded to strangers. He was notoriously standoffish with anyone except Lane and me. Yet here he was, rubbing against this woman's leg, purring audibly through the camera's microphone.

"Who are you?" I whispered, though I knew she couldn't hear me.

The camera caught her profile as she bent down to scratch behind Whiskers' ears. Young, pretty—early twenties at most. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders as she made kissy sounds at my cat.

"Whiskers, you little flirt," she laughed. "Lane said you'd warm up to me eventually."

Lane.

My mate had mentioned this woman? I racked my brain but couldn't recall any mention of someone new in our lives.

I watched in growing horror as she moved confidently through my kitchen, opening cabinet doors as if she owned the place. She retrieved Whiskers' toy mouse from the drawer where we kept his favorites.

"Where's your favorite spot, kitty?" she asked, tossing the toy across the floor. "Is it still under the couch?"

Whiskers darted after the toy, and she laughed again. "Such a silly boy."

My Luna instincts flared to life. This wasn't just a visitor. This woman moved through my home with the comfortable familiarity of someone who had been there multiple times before.

"I need to see more," I muttered, switching to the security camera app that monitored our entire house.

She appeared in the living room now, settling onto our couch—my reading spot—with Whiskers curled in her lap. She wore one of Lane's old t-shirts and nothing else, the hem riding up dangerously high as she crossed her legs.

"Such a good boy," she murmured, stroking Whiskers' fur. "We're going to have so much fun together when Lane and I—"

I couldn't listen anymore. My blood ran cold as the implications hit me like a physical blow.

"Cancel my meetings," I barked into the phone when Haley answered. "I'm coming home now."

"Nyla? What's wrong? Is it pack business?"

"It's worse," I said, already packing my suitcase with one hand. "I think Lane's been busy while I've been away."

---

The drive home took forty minutes that felt like four hours. Every mile brought me closer to what I already knew was waiting for me.

I'd called Lane twice. Both times he'd answered with forced cheerfulness, claiming he was just finishing up some work at the office. His explanations about why he hadn't answered my earlier calls were vague, his tone too bright, too eager to please.

"Luna Nyla," Ryan greeted me as I strode through the pack house entrance. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

"Change of plans," I said tersely, nodding toward the stairs. "Is Lane here?"

"In his study, Luna."

I took the stairs two at a time, my Luna aura pulsing with barely contained fury. Whiskers appeared at the top of the landing, his eyes wide as he sensed my distress.

"It's okay, boy," I said, though nothing was okay. "Where is he?"

As if understanding my question, Whiskers trotted down the hallway toward Lane's study.

I heard Lane's voice before I saw him—too loud, too cheerful. "Nyla! Baby! You're home early!"

He emerged from his study, his smile faltering as he took in my expression. "What's wrong?"

"What's right is the better question," I replied coldly. "Who was in our house today, Lane?"

His face paled slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie to me." My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I saw her."

Whiskers meowed loudly, pawing at the guest bedroom door. Lane's eyes darted to the cat, then back to me.

"It's not what you think," he began, but I was already moving past him.

The guest bedroom door swung open under my hand. The room smelled of unfamiliar perfume—sweet, cloying, with notes of vanilla and something floral. A scent that didn't belong here.

Whiskers darted inside, jumping onto the bed where a faint imprint still marked where someone had lain. He looked up at me expectantly, as if waiting for his new friend to appear.

"Who is she, Lane?" I asked quietly.

His silence was answer enough.

I couldn't sleep that night. Lane's evasive answers echoed in my mind as I lay beside him, careful not to let our skin touch. The bed felt too small, too crowded with lies.

When dawn broke, I slipped out from under the covers, determined to find proof of what I already knew in my heart.

"You're up early," Lane murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

"Just restless," I replied, my tone neutral despite the storm raging inside me. "Pack business on my mind."

He nodded and rolled over, already drifting back to sleep. I watched his back rise and fall with each breath, wondering how someone could lie so easily.

I moved silently through our bedroom, following my instincts. The scent trail was faint but unmistakable—that cloying vanilla perfume that didn't belong to me. It led from our bed to the bathroom, then back to the guest room.

In the bathroom, I found what I was looking for. A small crystal bottle with a delicate silver cap sat behind my toiletries basket. I hadn't put it there.

"Omega perfume," I whispered, unscrewing the cap. The scent was overwhelming—cheap and sweet, designed to appeal to male wolves. Not something a Luna would wear.

I returned to our bedroom and checked my pillow. There, glinting in the morning light, were several long blonde hairs. I gathered them carefully, my fingers trembling with rage rather than fear.

"Lane," I said, my voice carrying the weight of my Luna authority. He jerked awake, his eyes widening as he saw what I held. "Explain this."

"Where did you find that?" he asked, his voice too casual.

"On my pillow. In our bed." I held up the perfume bottle. "And this was in our bathroom. Care to explain why an omega's scent is all over our private space?"

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "You're being paranoid, Nyla. That's probably just... maybe the cleaning service..."

"The cleaning service doesn't wear perfume," I cut him off. "And they certainly don't leave their hair on my pillow."

Lane's expression hardened. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. You're always so suspicious, always thinking the worst of me."

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me. "Are you seriously trying to make this my fault?"

"I just mean that..." He sighed dramatically. "You're always so busy with pack duties that you don't notice what's going on right in front of you."

I pocketed the evidence and straightened my spine. "I want your work schedule. Every meeting, every overtime hour, every business trip."

"Nyla—"

"Now, Lane." My Luna aura flared, filling the room with pressure that made him flinch.

Two hours later, I sat in my office reviewing his calendar. There were inconsistencies everywhere—claimed overtime hours with no corresponding projects, meetings scheduled during times when I knew he'd been home.

"I need to see for myself," I muttered, grabbing my keys.

The drive to his company took twenty minutes. I bypassed the reception desk, my Luna status granting me immediate access.

"Excuse me," I said to the receptionist as I passed. "I'm looking for Lane Montgomery."

Her eyes widened slightly. "He's in a meeting with his... personal assistant."

"Personal assistant?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Ms. Porter. They often work late together." She lowered her voice. "Very... dedicated employees."

"Where might I find them?"

"Third floor, east wing. Mr. Montgomery's office is at the end of the hall."

I thanked her and made my way upstairs, following the scent trail that had become all too familiar.

I found the women's restroom near Lane's office and slipped inside, waiting. My Luna instincts told me she would come here eventually.

I didn't have to wait long.

The door swung open, and there she was—young, blonde, exactly as I'd seen on the camera. She froze when she saw me, her omega scent immediately spiking with terror.

"L-Luna Nyla," she stammered, her eyes wide. "I didn't expect you here."

"Ariyah Porter, I presume?" I stepped closer, watching as her omega instincts kicked in. Her neck bared slightly in submission, her hands trembling at her sides.

"I was just... Lane needed help with some important pack business," she said, her voice barely audible. "Nothing serious."

"Pack business?" I repeated, my voice dangerously soft. "In his private office? After hours?"

The scent of her fear intensified, filling the small restroom with a sour note that made my wolf growl.

"Please," she whispered, her hands shaking uncontrollably now. "It's not what you think."

I leaned in close, my Luna aura pressing down on her like a physical weight. "Then tell me what it is, Ariyah. Because from where I stand, it looks like my mate has been busy with more than just pack business."

I paced across my office, my mind racing with possibilities, each more painful than the last. The omega's scent still lingered on my skin from our confrontation in the restroom, a constant reminder of my mate's betrayal.

"We need to talk," I whispered, activating the secure mind-link that connected me to Haley. The link hummed to life, warm and familiar.

"Nyla?" Haley's voice filled my head, alert and instantly concerned. "What's wrong? You sound... off."

"I need your legal expertise," I replied, keeping my mental voice steady despite the storm inside me. "And I need absolute secrecy."

There was a brief pause. "This is about Lane, isn't it?"

"Yes." I closed my eyes, gathering strength. "I think he's been cheating on me. With an omega from his company."

Haley's mental presence sharpened with protective fury. "Tell me everything."

I explained what I'd discovered so far—the strange woman in our home, Whiskers' unusual behavior, the perfume bottle, the blonde hairs on my pillow. With each detail, Haley's anger grew, her Beta protective instincts flaring through our connection.

"I need you to prepare the legal documents for mate bond rejection," I continued. "Just in case. And I need it done quietly."

"Consider it done," Haley replied without hesitation. "I'll gather evidence discreetly. No one will know until you're ready to make your move."

Relief washed over me. Haley had always been my rock, the one person I could count on without question.

"There's more," I added. "I think he's been using pack resources to fund this... whatever this is."

"I'll start digging immediately," Haley promised. "And Nyla? Don't confront him yet. Let me gather what we need first."

I ended the mind-link with a grateful squeeze of our connection. Having Haley on my side made this nightmare slightly more bearable.

---

My next step was to access Ariyah's social media accounts. If she was as careless as most young omegas, she might have left digital breadcrumbs.

I was right.

Her privacy settings were virtually nonexistent—a rookie mistake that spoke of either arrogance or naivety. Probably both.

"What have we here?" I murmured, scrolling through her profile.

The first few photos were innocent enough—work events, coffee shops, selfies with friends. But then I found them.

"Lane says this restaurant has the best steak in town," read the caption under a photo of her and Lane at an upscale restaurant I'd never been to.

The timestamp showed three weeks ago, when Lane had claimed to be working late on pack alliance documents.

I scrolled further, my stomach tightening with each new discovery.

"Shopping spree with my favorite person!" Another photo showed Lane holding bags from luxury stores, his arm around Ariyah's waist.

"Spa day! #blessed #pampered" This one had a geotag—the exclusive Mountain Springs Resort, where rooms started at $500 per night.

My fingers trembled as I kept scrolling, each image more damning than the last.

Then I found it.

The photo that shattered something inside me.

"Best anniversary surprise ever! #yachtlife #love"

The caption burned into my retinas as I stared at the image of Lane and Ariyah aboard my father's gift—the luxury yacht he'd given me for our mate ceremony anniversary. The very yacht Lane had claimed was "in for maintenance" that weekend.

The date stamp confirmed it. Our anniversary. The day Lane had texted that he had pack flu and needed rest.

They were on my yacht, drinking champagne, her head on his chest as they sailed into the sunset.

Something dark and primal stirred inside me. My wolf growled, clawing at my insides, demanding retribution.

"He gave her our anniversary," I whispered, tears burning behind my eyes but refusing to fall. "He gave her my yacht."

---

The final piece of evidence came that evening.

I sat in my father's study, accessing the pack's financial records. As Luna, I had full authority to review all expenditures, though I typically left the day-to-day management to our Beta accountant.

"Let's see what else you've been hiding," I muttered, pulling up the credit accounts my father had established for pack business expenses.

There they were—line after line of charges that had nothing to do with pack business.

"Cartier Jewelry, $3,200" read one entry from last month.

"Diamonds by Design, $5,700" showed another.

I dug deeper, finding charges for spa treatments, weekend getaways, even a down payment on a luxury apartment.

All charged to accounts that bore the Bennett Pack name.

All funded by my father's hard-earned wealth.

All for her.

I sat back in my chair, a cold clarity washing over me. This wasn't just betrayal—it was theft. It was exploitation of everything my family had built.

My phone buzzed with a text from Haley: "Found something you need to see. Coming over now."

I closed the financial records, my decision made. Lane Montgomery had made a grave mistake.

And he was about to learn exactly what happens when you cross a Luna with nothing left to lose.