I pressed my palm against the swell of my belly, feeling our pup kick as I stood at the pack house entrance. Three months. Ninety-two days since I'd last seen Easton's face, felt his arms around me, heard his voice in my mind instead of through a phone screen plagued by bad Northern Territory reception.

The black SUV rolled up the circular drive, and my heart hammered against my ribs. My wolf stirred, eager and restless, already reaching out through our bond to—

Nothing.

I frowned, trying again. The mind-link should have snapped open the moment he crossed into pack territory. We'd been connected since the day we'd recognized each other as mates, a constant warm presence in the back of my consciousness. Even during his trip, I'd felt the faint thread of him, stretched thin by distance but never severed.

The car door opened. Easton stepped out, and my breath caught. He looked tired—shadows under his eyes, his dark hair slightly longer than he usually kept it. But he was here. He was home.

"Easton!" I moved forward as quickly as my pregnant body would allow, arms already lifting for the embrace I'd been dreaming about.

He met me halfway, but something was wrong. His hug was brief, almost perfunctory—one arm around my shoulders, the other barely touching my waist. No deep inhale of my scent at the curve of my neck. No possessive nuzzle. No scent-marking.

He pulled back before I could properly hold him.

"Hey," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Long trip. I'm exhausted."

"I can imagine." I reached for his hand, trying to ignore the way he'd stiffened at my touch. "But you're home now. We missed you so much. The pup's been so active—I think she knows her daddy's back."

"She?" A flicker of something—interest? guilt?—crossed his face.

"Just a feeling." I tried to smile, tried to push down the unease creeping up my spine. "Come inside. I had the kitchen prepare your favorite—"

"I need a shower first." He was already moving toward the entrance, leaving me standing on the drive. "Really need to wash off the travel grime."

I followed him inside, my wolf whining softly in my mind. Something's wrong, she whispered. Something's different.

I reached out through our bond again, a gentle mental touch. Easton? Welcome home, my love.

The wall slammed up so fast it made me stumble. Solid. Impenetrable. Cold.

He'd blocked me. Completely.

My Alpha mate had shut me out of his mind.

***

The shower ran for forty-five minutes.

I knew because I sat on our bed, staring at his luggage, counting every minute on the antique clock on the nightstand. The sound of water beating against tile felt accusatory, each second stretching longer than the last.

To distract myself, I reached for his suitcase. Easton was notoriously messy—clothes usually came home in a jumbled ball of wrinkled fabric that I'd tease him about while sorting through the laundry. It was one of his endearing flaws, the way someone so commanding and organized in pack matters became completely chaotic with personal belongings.

I unzipped the main compartment and froze.

Every item was folded with military precision. Shirts creased at perfect right angles. Pants aligned with mathematical accuracy. Socks rolled into tight balls and arranged by color.

This wasn't Easton's packing.

My hands trembled as I lifted out a shirt—one of his favorites, the dark blue one that made his eyes look almost black. As I unfolded it, a scent hit me like a physical blow.

Wild jasmine. Sickly sweet. Cloying.

My stomach lurched. The pup kicked hard, as if she could sense my distress. My wolf snarled, the sound reverberating through my bones.

Not our mate's scent. Not ours. WRONG.

I pressed the shirt to my face despite my wolf's protests, breathing deep, trying to identify what lay beneath the jasmine. Something feminine. Something that didn't belong anywhere near my mate's clothes.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam. Easton emerged, skin scrubbed pink, hair dripping. The chemical smell of soap was overwhelming—he'd used the harsh antibacterial kind, the stuff that stripped away scent markers.

He froze when he saw me holding his shirt.

"Clara—"

"Who folds your clothes like this?" My voice came out steadier than I felt. "You can barely fold a towel."

"The hotel staff." Too quick. Too rehearsed. "They offered a packing service."

I stood slowly, the shirt still clutched in my hands. Beneath the soap, beneath the steam, I could still smell it. That faint, lingering sweetness that made my wolf bare her teeth.

"Your mind-link," I said quietly. "Why are you blocking me?"

Something flickered across his face—guilt, defensiveness, I couldn't tell. "I'm not—it's just been a long trip. I need some space to decompress."

Space. From his pregnant mate. From the bond the Moon Goddess herself had forged between us.

I looked down at the shirt in my hands, at the precise creases that spoke of someone else's careful touch. At the scent that didn't belong.

"What happened in the Northern Territories, Easton?"

He turned away, reaching for a towel. "Nothing that concerns you. Pack business."

The wall in our mind-link remained solid. Unyielding.

And I knew, with a certainty that made my blood run cold, that my mate was lying to me.

I stood outside Easton's office door, the lunch basket growing heavy in my hands. Through the thick oak, I could hear his voice—low, intimate, nothing like the commanding Alpha tone he used with pack members.

My wolf stirred, hackles rising. Listen.

I pressed closer, my enhanced Luna hearing cutting through the barrier. Pregnancy had sharpened all my senses to a razor's edge.

"...miss you too," Easton murmured. A pause. "No, she doesn't suspect anything. I've been careful."

The basket nearly slipped from my grip. My pup kicked hard, as if she could feel my heart shattering.

"Tonight's impossible. Clara's planning some dinner thing." His voice dropped even lower, dripping with an affection I hadn't heard directed at me in weeks. "Soon, I promise. I have to go, she's coming."

I counted to three, forced my face into a smile, and opened the door.

Easton spun toward me, the comm device disappearing into his desk drawer with supernatural speed. The office reeked of stress pheromones—sharp, acrid, guilty. His eyes were too wide, his posture too rigid.

"Clara! I didn't hear you—"

"I brought lunch." My voice came out steadier than I felt. I set the basket on his desk, watching him shift to block the ledger he'd been reviewing. "Your favorite. Roast beef sandwiches from the deli you love."

"That's... thoughtful." He made no move to uncover the ledger. "But I'm swamped with pack finances. Maybe later?"

I looked at his desk. At the way his hand remained protectively over that ledger. At the guilt written across every line of his face.

"Of course." I turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, Easton? Who were you talking to?"

"Beta Thomas. About the upcoming council meeting."

Another lie. Thomas was leading the afternoon patrol—I'd approved the schedule myself this morning.

I left without another word, my wolf snarling in my mind. Find out. We need to know.

***

I waited until sunset, until Easton left for the mandatory pack run. Then I moved.

The Alpha's office was never truly locked to a Luna. I placed my palm on the biometric scanner, and the door clicked open. My hands shook as I booted up the secure financial server, entering my Luna override codes.

The pack's accounts sprawled across the screen. I filtered by date—the three months Easton was away. Then I searched for anomalies.

There.

A series of transfers, each labeled "Consulting Fees." Five thousand dollars. Then seven thousand. Then ten. All sent to an account in the Northern Territories.

Account holder: S. Reed.

I cross-referenced the dates with Easton's schedule. Every transfer corresponded exactly with his "private meetings" during the summit. Meetings he'd told me were classified Alpha business.

My vision blurred. The pup kicked frantically, responding to the adrenaline flooding my system. I gripped the desk edge, breathing through the wave of nausea.

S. Reed. Who the hell was S. Reed?

I printed the records, folded them carefully, and tucked them into my jacket. Then I went hunting.

***

I found Marcus in the guard barracks, polishing his boots. He looked up as I entered, immediately rising to his feet.

"Luna Clara—"

"Sit." I didn't raise my voice. Didn't need to. The Luna Voice thrummed through the word, ancient and absolute. Marcus dropped back onto the bench like his strings had been cut.

My wolf surged forward, lending me her authority. Every instinct screamed to protect our pup, our position, our dignity.

"You accompanied Alpha Easton to the Northern Territories," I said quietly. "You were assigned to his personal security detail."

"Yes, Luna." Marcus's face had gone pale. Lower-ranked wolves couldn't resist a direct Luna command. It was written into our very DNA.

"Who is S. Reed?"

He flinched. "Luna, I—the Alpha ordered us not to—"

"I'm ordering you now." I let the Luna Voice intensify, felt it wrap around him like chains. "Who. Is. S. Reed?"

Marcus crumbled. "Sierra Reed. An Omega from the Northern Pack. She was... she was always in the Alpha's private quarters. He said she was providing administrative support for the summit negotiations."

Administrative support. The words tasted like ash.

"How often?"

"Every day, Luna. Sometimes for hours. The Alpha ordered us to leave them alone, to guard the outer corridor instead of his door." Marcus looked miserable. "I'm sorry. We thought... we didn't want to believe..."

I turned and walked out before he could see my face crumble. Before he could see the Luna mask crack.

In the empty hallway, I pressed my back against the cold stone wall and finally let myself feel it. The betrayal. The rage. The soul-deep agony of a sacred bond desecrated.

My wolf howled in my mind, a sound of pure anguish.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that everything was about to burn.

The barbecue smoke curled through the evening air, carrying the scent of grilled meat and pack camaraderie. I stood on the stone patio, one hand pressed against my lower back, the other cradling my belly. The pup had been restless all day, kicking and turning as if she could sense the tension coiled tight in my chest.

Beta Thomas laughed at something Gamma Marcus said, their voices blending with the casual chatter of the pack's elite warriors. Easton moved through the crowd with practiced ease, clapping shoulders and accepting congratulations on his successful summit negotiations. The perfect Alpha. The devoted mate.

The lie of it made my stomach turn.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest—sudden, breathtaking. I gasped, my hand flying to my sternum. It wasn't physical. The bond. Something was happening to the bond.

My wolf whimpered, confused and hurting. Wrong. Something's wrong.

I needed air. Space. Away from the false smiles and the scent of celebration that felt like mockery. I slipped away from the patio, following the stone path into the garden. The hedge maze offered privacy, darkness, shelter from the watching eyes.

That's when I heard his voice.

"I told you, it's complicated." Easton's tone was low, strained. He was deeper in the maze, hidden behind the tall hedges. "She's eight months pregnant. I can't just—"

A female voice cut through the phone speaker, sharp and demanding even through the digital distortion. "Can't just what? Tell the cow you don't want her anymore? That you found your real mate?"

The world tilted. I pressed my palm against the hedge, rough leaves scraping my skin, anchoring me to reality.

"Don't call her that." But Easton's protest was weak, automatic. No real heat behind it.

"Why not? That's what she is. A broodmare who happened to be convenient. You said yourself the bond feels wrong now. That being with me feels right."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The pup kicked frantically, responding to my racing heart.

"Sierra, please." His voice dropped into that intimate register I'd heard through his office door. The one that used to be reserved for me. "You know I want to be with you. But I need time. The pack, the ceremony for the pup—"

"I'm tired of waiting, Easton. I'm tired of being your secret. You promised me things would change when you got home."

"And they will. I promise. Just... let me handle this my way. My sweet Sierra, please. Trust me."

My sweet Sierra.

The words echoed in my skull, each syllable a knife blade. My legs moved without conscious thought, carrying me away from the hedge, away from his voice, away from the final death of my naive hope that this was all some terrible misunderstanding.

I made it to the far corner of the garden before my knees gave out. I sank onto a stone bench, both hands wrapped around my belly, protecting my daughter from the emotional carnage tearing through me.

My wolf howled. Not the aggressive snarl of a challenge, but the keening wail of a mate betrayed. The sound no one else could hear but me, trapped inside my own mind because my Alpha had locked me out of his.

***

I waited until the barbecue ended. Until the last warrior had left and the house fell silent. Then I climbed the stairs to our bedroom, each step feeling like walking toward an execution.

Easton was already there, changing into sleep clothes. He looked up as I entered, and for just a moment, I saw it—the flash of guilt before he smoothed his expression into casual warmth.

"There you are. I lost track of you at the party."

"I needed some air." I closed the door, leaning against it. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. "Easton, I need to ask you something."

He stilled, his shirt halfway over his head. "Okay."

"During the summit. The three months you were gone." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Did anything happen? Anything you need to tell me?"

The pause lasted three seconds too long. Then he pulled the shirt down, walked over to me, and took my hands in his. His touch felt like ice.

"Clara, sweetheart, nothing happened. I was working the entire time. Negotiations, pack politics, boring Alpha stuff." His thumbs rubbed circles on my palms, the gesture that used to soothe me. Now it felt like manipulation. "Every moment I wasn't in meetings, I was thinking about you and our pup. About coming home to you."

The lie was so smooth. So practiced. He looked directly into my eyes, his expression open and earnest, and lied without a single tell.

He reached for my belly, that possessive Alpha gesture he'd done a thousand times before.

I flinched away.

The movement was instinctive, visceral. My body rejecting his touch before my mind could stop it.

Easton's hand froze in midair. Something flickered across his face—surprise, hurt, anger. "Clara?"

"I'm tired." My voice came out flat, dead. "The pup's been active all day. I need to lie down."

I moved past him to the bed, turning my back, curling around my belly. Behind me, I heard him exhale slowly. The mattress dipped as he climbed in on his side.

The space between us felt like an ocean.

My wolf whispered in the darkness: He chose her. He chose her over us.

And tomorrow, I would choose myself.

***

My father's house sat at the edge of pack territory, a modest structure that belied the power of the Gamma bloodline. I arrived just after dawn, when the morning mist still clung to the ground.

He opened the door before I could knock, his weathered face creasing with immediate concern. "Clara."

I walked past him into the study, pulling the folded papers from my jacket. The financial records. The text transcripts I'd managed to download from the cloud backup before Easton thought to delete them. Evidence of every lie, every betrayal, every dollar spent on his mistress.

I spread them across his desk like accusations.

Gamma Bennett read in silence, his jaw tightening with each line. When he finally looked up, his eyes burned with a fury I'd only seen once before—when a rogue had attacked pack pups during a school run.

"I'll kill him." His voice was eerily calm. "I'll challenge him for Alpha and tear his throat out in front of the entire pack."

"No." I placed my hand over his. "Violence makes me the victim. Makes him the martyr who died defending his pack. I won't give him that."

"Then what do you want?"

I met my father's gaze, feeling my wolf rise to the surface. Feeling the Luna power that was mine by right, not by his gift.

"The Future Alpha Ceremony is in three days. Every allied Alpha will be there. The entire pack. Witnesses who can't be silenced or dismissed." I smiled, and it felt like baring teeth. "I want your warriors ready. Because I'm going to reject him in front of everyone. And when I do, he's going to try to stop me."

My father studied my face for a long moment. Then slowly, deliberately, he smiled back.

"My warriors will be ready, daughter. And so will I."