After Six Years, My Mate Begged Forgiveness

The treaty was signed. After three grueling days of negotiations, Alpha Kian Thorne of the Mountain Ridge Pack had finally agreed to our alliance terms. My hands still ached from the hours spent drafting and redrafting the agreement, ensuring every clause protected Silvermoon's interests while offering enough incentive for Mountain Ridge to commit.

"This alliance will benefit both our packs for generations," Alpha Kian had said, his weathered face breaking into a rare smile as he clasped my hand. "You have quite the diplomatic gift, Luna Sophia."

I'd felt Selene, my wolf, purr with satisfaction at the acknowledgment. *Luna Sophia*. The title I deserved but was never truly granted.

The drive back to Silvermoon territory had been filled with quiet pride. This was my twelfth successful treaty negotiation—a record unmatched by any diplomat in our region. With Mountain Ridge's warriors now bound to defend our northern border, our pack was more secure than it had been in decades.

I expected no grand welcome. Marcus never celebrated my victories publicly. But as I walked into the central hall of the pack house, still dressed in my formal negotiation attire, I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

Marcus stood in the center of the room, surrounded by visiting dignitaries from neighboring territories. His tall frame commanded attention as always, his dark hair perfectly styled, his Alpha aura filling the space. But it wasn't his presence that made my steps falter.

It was what he was doing.

"A token of my appreciation," his deep voice carried across the hall as he draped a stunning silver necklace around Amber's slender neck. The moonstone pendant caught the light, sending prismatic reflections dancing across the walls.

Amber's eyes gleamed with triumph as she touched the stone reverently. "It's beautiful, Alpha," she cooed, her fingers lingering on his as he fastened the clasp.

The dignitaries applauded politely, but I saw the confusion in some of their eyes. They knew who had secured the Mountain Ridge treaty. They'd heard of the Luna who strengthened Silvermoon through diplomacy rather than bloodshed.

Selene growled inside me, the sound reverberating through my chest. *Six years of service. Twelve treaties. And she gets the recognition?*

I stood frozen, clutching my treaty folder against my chest like a shield. The document inside represented weeks of preparation, days of tense negotiations, and another victory for our pack. Yet there was Marcus, publicly adorning his mistress with expensive jewelry while I stood unacknowledged.

I couldn't help myself. Through our mate bond, I sent a private thought: *I was the one who sealed that treaty.*

Marcus's eyes flicked toward me for just a moment, his expression unchanging as his dismissive reply came through our mind-link: *True Lunas don't need material displays of worth.*

The words hit like a physical blow. Selene whimpered, then fell silent—a reaction I'd grown accustomed to over the years. My wolf had learned, as I had, that protest only led to further humiliation.

I maintained my composure as I slipped from the hall, treaty folder still clutched against my chest. No one noticed my departure. No one ever did.

In the privacy of my chambers—not the Alpha's quarters where Amber clearly spent her nights—I carefully filed the Mountain Ridge treaty alongside the others I'd secured. Each folder represented countless hours of work, strategic thinking, and sacrifice. Each one had made our pack stronger.

Yet none had made my mate value me.

I sank onto my bed, finally allowing my shoulders to slump with exhaustion. The negotiations had drained me, but it was the constant disregard that truly wore me down.

My phone pinged with a notification. A message through the pack's communication network.

I should have known better than to open it.

The images loaded one after another: Amber in Marcus's private quarters, wearing nothing but his Alpha crest ring and the moonstone necklace he'd just given her. Marcus's hands on her body. Their limbs entwined on sheets I'd never been invited to share.

Beneath the images, a single line of text: "Some women are meant to be Lunas, others are meant to be treasured."

Selene stirred within me, no longer whimpering but growling with a new, dangerous edge. *Enough*, she whispered. *We have been patient long enough.*

For the first time in six years, I found myself agreeing with her completely.