After My Alpha Slept with the Omega, I Planned My Escape

The Winter Solstice Banquet was supposed to be perfect.

I'd spent three weeks coordinating every detail—the cedar garlands woven with silver ribbon, the long tables set with hand-painted plates, the roasted venison that filled the great hall with rich, smoky warmth. Pack members from allied territories filled the space, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceiling. I moved through the crowd in my Luna gown, smiling, greeting, making sure everyone felt welcome.

Greyson stood near the head table, surrounded by visiting Alphas. He looked every inch the leader—broad-shouldered, commanding, his dark hair catching the firelight. Pride should have warmed my chest. It didn't. I felt nothing except the faint pull of duty, like a string tied around my ribs.

Halfway through the evening, I turned to offer him a glass of spiced wine. He was gone.

I scanned the hall. His scent trail—pine and leather, sharp and unmistakable—led away from the crowd, down the corridor toward the private wing. My wolf stirred uneasily. The bond-mark on my neck pulsed with heat that felt wrong, like a warning instead of warmth.

I set the wine glass down and followed.

The corridor was empty. My heels clicked softly against the stone floor. I told myself it was nothing. Maybe he'd stepped away to take a call. Maybe he needed air. The bond-mark throbbed harder with every step, a dull burn spreading across my collarbone.

I reached the Alpha suite. The door was cracked open.

I pushed it wider.

Greyson stood in the center of the room, his shirt half-unbuttoned. Our Omega house servant—a small blonde wolf named Tessa—was pressed against him, her hands on his chest. His hands were on her waist. Unhurried. Possessive. He kissed her throat, right where a mate mark would sit, and she tilted her head back with a soft, breathless sound.

The bond-mark on my neck seared like acid.

I made a noise—something between a gasp and a choke. Greyson's head snapped up. His eyes met mine. For one second, I thought I saw something flicker across his face. Surprise, maybe. Or guilt.

Then it was gone.

"Elora." His voice was flat. He didn't remove his hand from Tessa's waist. "What are you doing here?"

My mouth opened. No sound came out. The burn on my neck spread, crawling down my spine like fire ants under my skin. My wolf whimpered and pressed flat against the floor of my consciousness.

"I—" I managed. "The banquet. You left."

"So you followed me." He said it like an accusation. His Alpha aura rolled out, thick and suffocating, pressing into my chest like a hand shoving me backward. "You're being hysterical."

"Hysterical?" The word came out strangled. "Greyson, you're—"

"I'm what?" His tone sharpened. The aura thickened. My knees buckled slightly. I locked them. "You're embarrassing yourself, Elora. Go back to the hall. Smile. Do your job."

Tessa shifted against him, her fingers curling into his shirt. She didn't look at me. She didn't need to. Her scent—vanilla and something cloyingly sweet—clung to his skin.

"This is—" My voice cracked. I tried again. "This is our suite. Our—"

"Enough." The Alpha tone slammed into me like a physical blow. My wolf yelped and curled into a ball. My throat closed. I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. He stared at me, his expression cold and bored, like I was a problem he'd already solved. "Go."

I turned and walked out.

My legs carried me back down the corridor on autopilot. The bond-mark still burned. My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against my thighs and kept walking.

The great hall was still full of light and laughter. No one had noticed I'd left. No one noticed I'd come back.

I picked up a tray of glasses from a side table and moved through the crowd, offering drinks, asking about travels, nodding at stories I didn't hear. My face felt like a mask. Smooth. Neutral. Luna-perfect.

Beta Damon caught my eye from across the room. He frowned slightly, his gaze flicking toward the corridor I'd just come from. I looked away and offered wine to an elder from the Ridge Pack.

"Lovely event, Luna," she said warmly.

"Thank you," I replied. My voice didn't shake. "I'm so glad you could join us."

She smiled and moved on.

I stood there, holding the tray, surrounded by people who thought everything was fine. My wolf lay silent and broken inside me. The bond-mark had stopped burning. Now it just ached—a dull, throbbing reminder that I was tied to a man who had just told me to leave while his hands stayed on another woman's body.

No one noticed.

They never did.

Two days later, Greyson came to breakfast like nothing had happened. He sat at the head of the table, reading reports, drinking coffee. He asked me to pass the cream. I did. He didn't look at me.

He didn't explain. He didn't apologize. He didn't seek me out.

He just... continued.

I sat across from him, my hands folded in my lap, and realized something with perfect, terrible clarity: he expected me to stay. He expected me to keep standing beside him, keep smiling at banquets, keep bleeding in silence.

Because I always had.

My wolf stirred, just barely. Not a howl. Not a snarl.

A whisper.

*How much longer?*

I didn't have an answer yet.

But for the first time in years, I let myself hear the question.