My Mate Chose Her Over Our Pup

After Byron left, I was alone on the floor.

Weak.

Hopeless.

Humiliated.

The evidence of our three years together surrounded me.

Our photos on the wall, the jewelry he gave me on the table, the books we read together on the shelf.

All of it mocked my stupidity.

I struggled to my feet, using all my strength to get to the wall.

"Go to hell."

I grabbed a vase and hurled it at our first photo together.

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room.

My rage took over. It was a blur of shattering glass and splintering wood. I tore the room apart, reducing every symbol of his lies to wreckage. The jewelry box, the expensive decorations—all of it, garbage.

"Die!" I screamed. "All of it, just die!"

I shattered his necklaces under my heel, ripped his letters to confetti, and stomped on every beautiful memory until it was nothing but dust.

I kept going until I had no strength left to stand.

I collapsed among the wreckage, gasping for air. Without my wolf, I was weaker than a human.

Two hours later, Byron stood in the doorway again, his eyes taking in the wreckage.

"Sandra," his voice was thick with pain. "Why would you do this to our memories?"

I pushed myself up from the floor, my gaze like ice.

"Memories?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "What memories? The ones where you lied to my face?"

He walked toward me, each step filled with an Alpha's grace.

"I did this to protect you," he said, his voice low. "To stop you from doing something reckless. Look at the state you're in—"

"Protect me?" I cut him off. "By ripping my wolf from me?"

But the words died in my throat.

A familiar scent hit me.

Even with my senses dulled, I could still smell it.

The scent of Ariana was wrapped around him, clinging to him like a second skin.

My eyes slowly drifted down to his chest.

Peeking out from his shirt pocket was the smooth, silver edge of something I knew all too well.

The Moonstone.

It had been passed down through my family for generations, a relic meant to soothe the powerful wolf within a Luna.

My mother gave it to me on my coming-of-age ceremony, telling me only my fated mate could ever hold it for me.

The day we mated, I gave it to Byron for safekeeping.

It was supposed to be mine.

And now, my stone was drenched in Ariana’s overwhelming scent.

He had just... he had used it to soothe another female.

"You were with her," my voice was a low, arctic wind.

Byron’s hand instinctively flew to his pocket, a dead giveaway.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Moonstone," I pointed, my voice trembling with a rage so deep it burned. "You took my Moonstone... and you used it on her. When I needed it most—after losing our pup, after you stole my power—you gave it to the monster who killed our child!"

The color drained from his face. His eyes were a chaotic storm of unexplainable pain and conflict.

"Sandra, it wasn't like that, I was just—"

"Just what?" I snapped. "Decided I wasn't worthy of it anymore? That because I stopped being your obedient little Luna, you could just give my birthright to your new favorite?"

"No!" he snarled, his eyes bloodshot. But he offered no other explanation.

I laughed.

The sound was sharp and manic.

"You know what?" I said slowly, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "I finally get it. You're not an Alpha. You're a coward who has to break his mate to feel secure."

A dangerous light flared in his eyes.

"What did you say?"

"I said you're a coward," I repeated, each word a poisoned dart. "A pathetic creature who can't handle a strong female. So you had to strip away my power to make me as weak as you are."

"Shut up."

"A real Alpha doesn't need to crush his mate," I went on. "But you're not a real Alpha. You're just a monster wearing an Alpha's—"

His eyes glazed over.

Another mind-link.

Ariana again.

A few seconds later, he was back, his face a mask of pure exhaustion.

He clenched his fists, a flicker of alarm crossing his face as if something terrible was happening on the other end.

"Enough," he said, turning for the door. "I don't have time for this nonsense."

"Run," I called after him. "Run back to your little lover. Take my things with you and go soothe your wounded pride."

His steps faltered. His shoulders shook with the impact of my words.

"Sandra, if you keep this up, you're going to destroy what little we have left," his voice was a tired, raw scrape.

"What we have left?" I shrieked, the sound weak but full of venom. "The only thing I regret is ever loving a monster like you!"

Byron’s entire body went rigid, as if an invisible blade had just run him through.

Then he walked out of the room without a backward glance.

I watched him go, the hatred inside me burning hotter than ever.

I had to get out.

I had to find my father's men.

I dragged my weak body toward the door, but the second I stepped outside, several figures jumped out of the shadows.

Rogues.

Their eyes glowed with bloodlust.

"Byron!" I screamed in desperation. "Byron!"

But the night was silent.

He was gone, as if he had never been there at all.