The Luna’s Revenge Against Her False Mate

Rio Hayes, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, stood by my side, his large frame towering over me as he gently patted my back. His tears were silent, but I could feel their weight—insincere and hollow. I looked up at him, my Luna instincts screaming at the deception in his scent. How could he stand here, pretending to grieve when his heart was elsewhere?

Just as my emotions threatened to overflow, Theodora Collins entered the room. Her presence was like a storm, her golden hair catching the light as she cast a scornful glance at Amos’s lifeless body. She leaned close to Rio, her voice a low murmur in German, "Darling, our son is still waiting to celebrate his birthday. Why are you here in the morgue with the departed? This is such bad luck. Let's go quickly."

Rio’s eyes flicked toward me, uncomfortable, and he replied, "I’ll be right there." He stood, his Alpha aura pressing against me as he tried to coax me to rise with him.

I didn’t move. My gaze locked on Theodora, my wolf bristling beneath the surface. Noticing my scrutiny, Theodora offered a brief, apologetic smile and switched to English, saying, "Luna Valeria, my condolences. There's a matter that needs Alpha Rio’s attention. Could we borrow him for a few hours?"

Despite her seemingly courteous words, her demeanor was unmistakably that of someone in charge. She didn’t address me with the respect a Luna deserved, and her scent—vanilla and something sharper—carried the faint tang of triumph.

As I watched, Rio and Theodora departed, their fingers intertwined even before leaving the morgue. The bond between them was palpable, a cruel mockery of the mate bond I had once shared with him. Swallowing my grief, I brought Amos's body back to our pack’s territory in England.

I visited every sacred burial ground in the region, selecting a peaceful resting place for him. It was situated between rolling hills and near a river, about a mile from the hunting grounds Amos adored. The pack’s healers prepared his body with the traditional herbs and markings, ensuring his spirit would find peace in the Moon Goddess’s embrace.

Rio knew I had returned but never reached out. Instead, he arranged for a housekeeper and had a selection of organic vegetables delivered, instructing her to prepare meals for me regularly. His Alpha tone was firm, but it lacked the warmth of a true mate’s concern.

But I had no appetite, visibly wasting away. The housekeeper, a Delta in our pack, updated Rio on my condition. I overheard the call. After listening, he merely responded with a detached "hmm" before hanging up.

On the day of Amos’s burial, I dialed his number. Theodora answered, her voice breathless, calling me "Luna Valeria" and saying Rio was busy. Her tone was sweet, but I could hear the smirk in her words.

I chuckled—busy indeed, but with another woman. I hung up and laid my son to rest. The day was sunny, perfect for a pack run, yet my Amos lay in a cold grave. Holding his baby photos, I nearly fainted, my tears seeming endless.

Not until the sun vanished below the horizon did I return to the chilly emptiness of what was once my home. Normally, by this hour, the dinner table would be set with roasted venison, fresh herbs, and a steaming pot of tea, but today the house was eerily silent.

As I pondered this, Rio called. "Luna," he began, his voice smooth and commanding, "I let the housekeeper go because her cooking didn’t meet your standards. I’m back in the territory and almost home. I’ll make dinner tonight, just wait for me."

Mimicking his indifferent tone, I simply replied, "Hmm."

Rio seemed momentarily taken aback, as I had never spoken to him so coldly before. Before he could respond, I ended the call.

Barely putting my phone away, an Instagram notification popped up—a video liked by a packmate. I clicked it to find a travel clip posted by Theodora, ending with a silhouette unmistakably belonging to Rio.

Her profile was a diary of sorts, documenting the everyday moments of her life with Rio and their son, Callahan. The earliest post was from seven years ago, on the very day I gave birth to Amos.

In the video, Theodora, wearing vintage-style maternity clothes, gleamed at the camera. Subsequent clips were filled with scenes of their cozy family time in the villa next to mine. Watching Rio play affectionately with another son, my heart grew colder.

With Amos, he had always been the stern Alpha, the disciplinarian. I never knew he had such a gentle side.

Back when I invested every penny I had into his vision for the pack, to avoid hindering him, I endured the heartbreak of seven miscarriages and my health deteriorated. The pack healers warned me of the toll it was taking on my wolf, but I persisted, driven by the belief that our bond was unbreakable.

After his pack succeeded, he finally agreed to have a child. We spent three years trying, until eventually, IVF blessed us with Amos.

On the day Amos was born, Rio wept like a child, promising to protect and love us forever. Yet, within a year, he had impregnated Theodora, and I only now discovered the truth.

How painfully ironic. The mate bond we once shared felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp sting of betrayal.