My Mate Chose His Trainee Over His Luna

Dallas found me in the kitchen that morning, coffee mug halfway to my lips. He didn't sit. He never sat when he had pack business.

"The documentary crew needs you on the winter patrol," he said. His voice had that edge. The Alpha tone he used when he expected compliance. "Retirement season. They want the Luna visible. It projects strength."

I set the mug down carefully. My lower back had been screaming for three days straight, the kind of deep, grinding pain that made every step feel like walking on broken glass. The spinal injury from the car accident when I was sixteen never really healed. It just learned to wait.

"When?" I asked.

"Friday. Colorado Rockies. We'll be on the ridge for most of the day."

I nodded. "Okay."

He looked at me for a moment, like he was waiting for me to argue. When I didn't, he left. The door clicked shut behind him, and I pressed my palm flat against the counter to stay upright.

That night, I locked the bedroom door and stood in front of the mirror. Dallas was downstairs in his office, probably reviewing patrol routes or checking sponsorship contracts. He wouldn't come up for hours.

I stripped down to my underwear and turned, looking at the faint scar that ran along my lower spine. The doctors said I was lucky to walk. Lucky to have a wolf at all. Most people with injuries like mine never shifted.

I took a breath and called her forward.

The shift started slow. My bones began to crack and reshape, but the pain in my spine flared white-hot, like someone had shoved a blade between my vertebrae and twisted. I bit down hard, tasting blood, and forced myself to keep going. My wolf fought her way out, silver fur rippling across my skin, but she flickered. Beautiful. Fragile. Wrong.

I held the form for thirty seconds. Then I let her go and collapsed on the floor, gasping.

It would have to be enough.

---

The ridge was brutal. Subzero air cut through my jacket, and every step through the deep snow sent shockwaves up my spine. My wolf whimpered inside me, a soft, pained sound I couldn't let anyone else hear.

Dallas stood near the documentary crew, his breath fogging in the early light. He looked strong. Confident. Every inch the Alpha they wanted on camera. Livia Snyder stood beside him, adjusting the collar of his jacket with a small, practiced smile. She was his combat trainer. His mentee. The she-wolf he'd been privately coaching for months.

The crew filmed them side by side. No one asked me to step into the frame.

I stayed several feet back, my boots sinking into the snow, and told myself it didn't matter. This was his documentary. His legacy. I was just here to be seen.

Livia laughed at something Dallas said, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a beat too long. The camera caught it. I looked away.

My spine screamed.

---

The ambush came without warning.

One second, Dallas was reviewing the route with the Beta. The next, the ridge exploded. Rogues poured out of the tree line, their wolves massive and feral, and the patrol line collapsed into chaos. Snow sprayed into the air. Bodies collided. Someone screamed.

Then the ground shifted.

The avalanche started slow, a low rumble that I felt in my chest before I heard it. I turned and saw the wall of white rushing toward us, massive and unstoppable.

Dallas shouted something. The helicopter appeared overhead, rotors screaming, and dropped a single rescue harness into the clearing.

One harness.

Dallas grabbed it. His eyes locked on mine for a split second, and I saw the decision happen. Then he turned and clipped the harness around Livia's waist.

"Go!" he shouted at her.

She didn't argue. The helicopter lifted her up, and she disappeared into the sky.

Dallas shouted something at me, but the roar of the avalanche swallowed his words. I couldn't hear him. I couldn't move.

The snow wall hit me like a freight train.

---

I don't remember much after that. Just cold. The kind of cold that reaches inside your bones and pulls everything out. My wolf went silent. My body went numb. I couldn't breathe, couldn't shift, couldn't do anything except wait.

Somewhere far above me, I heard voices. Digging. Shouting. The scrape of metal on ice.

Then hands grabbed me and dragged me out.

Someone wrapped a thermal blanket around my shoulders. Someone else checked my pulse. I heard Dallas's voice, sharp and frantic, but I couldn't make out the words.

My core temperature had dropped so low the medic's hands shook when he read the thermometer. My spine felt like it had been crushed under a building. And my wolf—

She was gone.

Not dead. Just… silent. Flickering. Barely there.

I closed my eyes and let them load me into the helicopter.