Rejecting Unfaithful Alpha

I stood frozen in Dawson's bedroom, my fingers clutching the small receipt I'd found in his jacket pocket. The paper trembled in my hand as I read the words again, hoping they would somehow change.

"Heat suppressants - Cecelia Holmes."

My stomach twisted into knots. Tomorrow was our Mate Ceremony—the day I would officially become Luna of the pack. The day we'd been preparing for since we discovered our mate bond in high school. And here I was, holding proof that my mate had been purchasing intimate care products for his assistant.

I sank onto the edge of our bed, my legs suddenly unable to support me. The receipt was dated just yesterday. Yesterday, when he'd told me he was working late on pack business.

"He wouldn't," I whispered to myself, but my wolf, Luna, growled inside me, her anger rising with each passing second.

*He would,* she snarled. *And he did.*

I'd ignored the signs for months. The lingering scent of Cecelia on his clothes. The late-night meetings. The way she looked at him when she thought no one was watching.

"Heat suppressants," I repeated, the words bitter on my tongue.

During my own heat cycles, Dawson had always been distant, claiming pack duties kept him busy. Yet here he was, personally ensuring his assistant's comfort during her most vulnerable time.

I crumpled the receipt in my fist and stormed toward his office. The hallway seemed endless, each step fueling my rage. When I reached his door, I didn't knock—a small act of defiance that would have been unthinkable just days ago.

Dawson looked up from his desk, irritation flashing across his face at my interruption. "Gabrielle, we discussed this. No interruptions while I'm working."

I slapped the receipt onto his desk, my hand shaking. "Is this work, Dawson? Buying heat suppressants for Cecelia?"

His expression shifted from annoyance to cold calculation. "You went through my things?"

"That doesn't matter," I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. "What matters is why you're providing intimate care for your assistant when tomorrow is our Mate Ceremony!"

Dawson leaned back in his chair, his Alpha aura expanding to fill the room. "You're being overly emotional about nothing."

"Nothing?" I stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated. "You've never once helped me through my heat cycles, but you're personally shopping for her?"

His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, it was with the unmistakable power of his Alpha tone. "Enough, Gabrielle. You're making a scene over something that doesn't concern you."

The weight of his command pressed against me, trying to force my submission. But something inside me—something that had been dormant for too long—resisted.

"It does concern me," I insisted, fighting against the compulsion to obey. "I'm your mate. Your Luna."

Dawson's laugh was dismissive. "You're being dramatic. Cecelia needed those suppressants, and as her Alpha, I provided them. It's pack business, nothing more."

"Pack business doesn't include personal care items," I countered, my voice trembling with effort and emotion.

"Stop this now," he commanded, his Alpha tone intensifying. "Go finish your preparations for tomorrow. We have guests arriving soon."

I wanted to keep fighting, to demand the truth, but his Alpha command was making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. Tears burned behind my eyes as I turned to leave.

That evening, I couldn't face him. I wandered through the pack house, feeling like a stranger in what should have been my home. As I passed the kitchen, I heard Cecelia's voice, animated and smug.

"I'm telling you, Melissa, it's hilarious," she was saying into her phone. "The Alpha cares more about me than his pathetic mate. You should have seen her face when she found out about the suppressants."

I froze, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure she would hear it.

"What did he say?" Cecelia continued, oblivious to my presence. "He told her she was being emotional. Can you believe it? After all these years, she still doesn't get it."

A laugh followed—not hers, but someone on the other end of the call.

"Everyone knows," Cecelia said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that I could still hear perfectly. "The whole pack sees how he looks at me. How he depends on me. Tomorrow's ceremony is just for show. Everyone knows who really has his heart."

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Cecelia's head whipped around, her eyes widening when she saw me standing there.

"Gabrielle," she said, her voice suddenly sweet with false concern. "Are you okay? You look... unwell."

But I heard what lay beneath her words. The triumph. The pity.

And in that moment, I knew. Everyone in the pack had been watching my humiliation unfold like a soap opera, while I had been blindly preparing to bind myself forever to a mate who had already chosen someone else.