After my mate Andre marked Yasmin as his second mate, he and our son poured all their love into her.

On Yasmin’s birthday, they accompanied her into the city to celebrate at a fancy restaurant. Meanwhile, I was out in the pack’s territory, gathering herbs for the healer when I felt a sharp pain and realized I was miscarrying. Desperate, I mind-linked Andre, begging him to come home and take me to the healer.

But he only growled back, "What are you talking about? I haven’t been near you in months! How could you possibly be carrying my pup?"

Our son, Quinton, joined the link, his voice impatient. "Mom, stop lying! Teacher said lying is wrong. Aunt Yasmin’s about to blow out her candles. I’m ending this!"

After seven years as his mate, they had completely forgotten that today was also my birthday.

Heartbroken, I severed the link and reached out to another number.

"Mother," I said, my voice trembling, "I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming back to take over the healing clinic."

---

It was the busiest season for the pack’s herb gathering, and I was out in the territory when I tripped over a root and fell. The moment I stood up, I felt a searing pain in my abdomen.

I stumbled back to the pack house, my steps uneven, and mind-linked Andre again, pleading with him to come back and take me to the healer.

But Andre, the Alpha of our pack, thought I was making excuses to get out of work. "What nonsense are you spouting? I haven’t been with you in months. There’s no way you’re carrying my pup!"

Even Quinton didn’t believe me. "Mom, stop it! You’re just trying to skip work. Teacher said we shouldn’t lie. Aunt Yasmin’s here—we’re about to cut the cake. I’m ending this!"

Before I could say another word, he severed the link.

A month ago, Andre had come home after a pack celebration, his scent heavy with alcohol. He’d pushed me onto the bed, and for a moment, I’d let myself hope he was remembering the bond we once shared. But in the heat of the moment, he’d whispered Yasmin’s name. So, in his mind, my claim of pregnancy was nothing but a lie.

Today was my birthday, but my mate and my own son were too busy celebrating someone else.

Clutching my stomach, I lay on the bed, biting down on the sheets as waves of agony tore through me. It felt like claws were ripping through my insides, pulling everything down. I screamed into the pillow, my cries muffled, as blood soaked the sheets.

For four torturous hours, I endured the pain, and in that time, I realized one thing: it was time to leave.

By evening, I could barely stand, but I managed to get up and brew a restorative tonic. I changed out of my blood-stained clothes and finally reached out again, this time to a number I’d memorized long ago.

"Mother," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "can I still take over the clinic?"

I come from a family of renowned healers, the Harrises, known for our centuries-old healing traditions. Eight years ago, while I was training in a rural pack, I met Andre Gibson, the Alpha of his pack, painting by the river.

Back then, Andre was everything I could have dreamed of—commanding yet tender, with a presence that demanded respect and a smile that could melt the iciest of hearts. The first time I saw him, I felt it—that unmistakable pull, the mate bond that the Moon Goddess herself had woven for us. His scent, a blend of cedar and earth, was intoxicating, and I knew I was his, just as he was mine.

But my parents, proud members of the Harris Pack, were vehemently opposed to our union. They believed an Alpha from a rural pack wasn’t worthy of their only daughter. I, however, was headstrong. Against their wishes, I secretly marked Andre, sealing our bond in a private mark ceremony under the full moon. It broke their hearts, and for years, the rift between us remained unhealed.

The first few years were blissful. Andre was everything I had hoped for—loving, attentive, and fiercely protective of our growing family. But then, tragedy struck.

Five years into our union, Andre’s younger brother, Memphis, a loyal Beta who had sacrificed his education to support Andre, took their mother, Noelle, a Gamma, to the city for a routine checkup. On the way back, their car malfunctioned, sending them careening off a cliff. Both were killed instantly. The shock was too much for Andre’s father, Kyree, a respected elder. He suffered a heart attack on the way to the hospital and passed away before they could save him.

The pack was in mourning, and Andre was devastated. In the wake of the tragedy, the elders and the pack council urged Andre to take in Yasmin, Memphis’s widow, as his second mate. They called it a “duty of honor,” a way to ensure she was cared for. I was horrified.

“Andre, you can’t be serious,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “You’re my mate. You vowed to be mine, and mine alone.”

He looked at me, his amber eyes heavy with guilt and grief. “Cora, you have to understand. Memphis gave up everything for me. How can I abandon his mate now? It’s not about love—it’s about duty.”

I wanted to believe him. I truly did. His words were soft, almost convincing, but the scent of his unease lingered in the air, betraying his inner turmoil. Still, I let myself be swayed, trusting that he would keep his promise to care for her without crossing the line.

But I was wrong.

Everything changed the day Yasmin moved in. Her presence was like a shadow, creeping into every corner of our home. She was a master manipulator, weaving herself into Andre’s life with a subtlety that was almost frightening.

One evening, as I sat alone in the living room, the sound of laughter drifted in from the yard. I stood, my heart heavy, and walked to the window. There they were—Andre and Yasmin, standing close, their voices mingling in the cool night air.

Andre turned, his gaze meeting mine through the glass. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. He stepped inside, his Alpha aura filling the room with an almost suffocating intensity.

“Cora,” he said, his voice calm but distant.

I pointed to the basin by the door, my hand trembling. “What’s that? Why is there blood in it?”

He glanced at it, his expression unreadable. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from training earlier.”

But the scent of iron was sharp, almost metallic, and it made my stomach churn. I wanted to press him, to demand the truth, but the way he looked at me—like I was a burden, an inconvenience—stopped me in my tracks.

The cracks were forming, and I could feel them spreading, threatening to shatter everything I had built with him. But I was powerless to stop it. The mate bond, once so strong, now felt fragile, like a thread on the verge of snapping.

And deep down, I knew—this was only the beginning.

Andre frowned as he looked at me, his Alpha aura pressing down on me in the way it always did when he was displeased. “Cora, are you feeling unwell? You look… off.”

Yasmin, who had been about to step into the room, paused at his words. She glanced at the basin of water I was holding and wrinkled her nose in exaggerated disgust. “Oh, Luna, really! You should’ve prepared better for this. Look at the mess you’ve made—ruining the sheets like this. How careless.”

Andre’s nose twitched slightly, as if he, too, could sense the faint metallic tang in the air. His expression shifted to one of mild irritation. “Cora, clean this up quickly. It’s embarrassing for the pack to see you like this.”

My steps felt heavy as I walked over to the waste bin and poured the water out. My hands trembled, but I forced myself to keep them steady.

Yasmin let out a soft, mocking laugh before turning back to Andre. Her voice was sugary sweet, dripping with false concern. “Alpha, since the Luna’s sheets are… compromised, why don’t you stay in my room tonight? You need your rest for tomorrow’s pack meeting, after all.”

Andre’s ears turned pink, and he cleared his throat, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Fine. Just for tonight.”

My chest tightened. They had always flirted behind my back, but now they didn’t even bother to hide it. They were shameless, and it made my stomach churn.

Just then, Quinton walked out of his room, his backpack in hand. “Mom, the strap on my bag broke. My packmates are laughing at me. Can you fix it?”

Yasmin immediately reached out, her smile sickeningly sweet. “Quinton, darling, your mother looks exhausted. Let me handle it for you.”

I met her gaze coldly, my voice calm but firm. “Yasmin, your sewing skills are hardly something Quinton’s packmates would admire. I’ll handle it.”

Her smile faltered, but Quinton spoke up before she could respond. “No! Aunt Yasmin shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing. Mom, you’ve been home all day—just fix my bag, okay?”

I stared at him, my heart sinking. This was the child I’d carried for nine months, raised with so much love, and yet he was siding with her. With her. The betrayal burned like a brand.

With a loud crash, I slammed the basin onto the floor. “Tonight, I’m not lifting a finger for anyone!”

I turned on my heel and marched into my room, leaving them all stunned. Quinton stood frozen, his mouth hanging open, while Andre looked momentarily speechless.

In the seven years I’d been mated to Andre, I’d never raised my voice, never lost my composure. But tonight, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Andre followed me into the room, his voice softer now, almost placating. “Cora, what’s gotten into you? There’s no need to take it out on Quinton. Come on, I’ll stay here with you tonight. Let’s just forget about this.”

I didn’t respond, focusing instead on straightening the sheets on the bed. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, his presence heavy and suffocating.

Later, when the lights were off, a sharp, feminine gasp came from the room next door. Within moments, Yasmin’s voice floated through the wall, high-pitched and trembling. “Alpha, I think there’s a… a mouse in my room. Could you come check? I’m so scared…”

Andre was up in an instant, pulling on his shirt. “Cora, I’ll just deal with this and come right back. Get some rest.”

But he didn’t come back. Not that night.

Hours passed, and then, faintly, I heard it—a soft, breathy moan from the room next door. My heart twisted, and I gripped the blanket tightly, my claws digging into the fabric. Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Instead, I lay there, silent and still, as the weight of betrayal settled over me like a suffocating fog.