Alpha's Betrayal, Luna's Escape

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the pack’s territory in a soft orange glow, Jalen, the Gamma of the Blackwood Pack, appeared at the dining table, a rare sight in itself. He carried a gift box, his usual stern demeanor softened ever so slightly. “I heard about Ella’s injury,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “This is for her.”

I accepted the box with a nod, unwrapping it to reveal a sturdy model car, its craftsmanship undeniable. Yet, it felt misplaced—a gift more suited to Everly’s nephew than my daughter. Suppressing a sigh, I set it aside, my fingers brushing against the smooth surface.

Jalen paused mid-bite of his roast beef, his sharp eyes catching the flicker of disappointment on my face. He cleared his throat, steering the conversation away from the gift. “What happened during her training session? You need to be more vigilant with her.”

I set my utensils down with deliberate care, dabbing my lips with a napkin before meeting his gaze. My tone was calm but laced with an edge. “Vigilant with my own child?”

“Five years, Jalen,” I continued, my voice steady though my heart ached. “How many pack gatherings have you attended with her? Did you ever see her first shift? When the pack held the annual moon run, where were you?”

Even when Ella was injured, it was me who stayed by her side, tending to her wounds, investigating the incident alone. In the quiet of the healer’s den, holding her trembling form, I’d asked, “How much did it hurt, sweetheart, when you fell during the run?”

Through tears, she whispered, “Mom, they were saying Dad doesn’t care about me anymore, that he has someone else. They pushed me…”

The words had felt like a knife twisting in my chest, each syllable a reminder of how much I’d failed to shield her from the pack’s cruelty. All I could do was hold her tighter, my own tears blending with hers.

Jalen’s expression hardened, his tone icy. “Zoe, keep your composure. You can be upset, but I don’t have time for this.”

“When have you ever had time for me?” I retorted softly, standing up to leave.

Yes, I’d been the one who first fell for Malik, the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, and endured all this for so long. But everyone has their breaking point.

Jalen watched me leave, his frown deepening, though he said nothing.

Later that evening, as Emmitt, a Delta warrior and my trusted driver, took me to the healer’s den to stay with Ella, he handed me a container. “Ma’am, Mr. Lynch wanted me to deliver this to you and Miss Ella. It’s your late-night snack.”

The warmth of the container seeped into my hands, and I hesitated for a moment before glancing at my phone. I was about to message Malik when I saw him in one of Everly’s posts.

“Didn’t expect to be gifted homemade spiced honey cake by the Alpha when feeling unwell! I’m definitely keeping this little gift.” The picture showed those familiar hands, awkwardly holding a slice of cake.

Having been mated to Malik for nearly eight years, I knew he had never stepped foot in the kitchen—not for Ella and me, certainly.

I turned off my phone and told Emmitt, “Let’s go. Ella’s waiting for me.”

For two weeks, I stayed near the healer’s den, resting at a nearby lodge, ignoring the routines of preparing Malik’s clothes and meals. He never mentioned it.

Occasionally, I returned to the pack house to gather fresh clothes for Ella and me. Many of our belongings were already packed, sent to my grandmother Louise’s place in the Seabrook Pack.

Perhaps Malik noticed. He transferred a large sum to my account, with a note: *For new clothes.*

Considering Ella’s future treatments, I accepted it.

Over the weekend, I came back for more belongings. To my surprise, Jalen showed up.

My heart skipped a beat, and I discreetly pushed down some summer clothes, half-turning to shield them from his view.

“Zoe,” he began, his tone businesslike, “Everly secured a major deal for the pack. I promised her a special thank-you gift.”

“Your embroidery skills are unmatched,” he said with a hint of pride. “Why don’t you make her a custom-embroidered dress? It would express the pack’s gratitude.”

Clenching my fingers, I smiled, meeting his gaze directly.

The discomfort on Jalen’s face was clear as he asked, “Is there a problem?”

I quietly asked, “When do you need it?”

“By next month’s pack gala.”

He spoke with such expectation, as if it were a simple task I was obligated to fulfill.

Numb with heartache, I nodded stiffly, “Alright.”

Let it be the farewell gift to our seven-year mate bond. At least once, we shared moments of love.