When My Mate’s Betrayal Killed Our Unborn Pup

The bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing, casting dancing shadows across the faces of my pack as they gathered around its warmth. I stood at the edge of the circle, a glass of untouched wine in my hand, watching the scene unfold like a play I was no longer part of. The night air carried the scent of pine and smoke, mingling with the murmurs of conversation that quieted whenever I passed.

Mira sat on a fallen log near the fire, her shoulders hunched and her eyes glistening with tears that caught the golden light. Her voice trembled as she spoke, loud enough for those nearby to hear but pitched in a way that suggested she hadn't meant for anyone to listen.

'I just don't know what to do anymore,' she whispered, her fingers worrying at the hem of her sweater. 'The threats keep coming. They say they'll take everything from me if I can't pay. I've never felt so... so helpless.'

The performance was flawless. I had to give her that.

'Oh, my dear,' Collin's mother cooed, immediately at Mira's side, her hand resting protectively on the younger woman's shoulder. 'You mustn't carry such burdens alone.'

The pack elders closed in, forming a protective semicircle around Mira. Elder Thompson, whose judgment had always been colored by his loyalty to Collin's family, nodded gravely.

'You're fortunate to have found such compassion in our Alpha,' he said, his voice carrying just enough for me to hear. 'Not everyone would go to such lengths to protect a pack member in need.'

His eyes flicked to me, then away, as if my presence was an uncomfortable reminder of something better left unspoken.

'Indeed,' Elder Morrison added, his tone heavy with implication. 'True leadership means understanding when to extend mercy. Some might call it weakness, but I call it nobility.'

The words were carefully chosen, each one a small knife aimed at my heart. I felt the weight of their judgment—not just of Mira's situation, but of my response to it. My lack of tears, my composure, my failure to rush to her side and offer the comfort they seemed to expect.

I took a small sip of wine, letting the bitter taste fill my mouth as I watched Collin kneel beside Mira, his hand on her knee, his expression more tender than any he had given me in months.

'This is what an Alpha does,' he said, his voice warm with conviction. 'This is what strength means.'

I set my glass down carefully and turned away, retreating toward the pack house where I could breathe without feeling the pressure of their stares. The kitchen was warm, filled with the scents of roasting meat and sweet breads for the feast to come. I began checking the preparations, focusing on the familiar tasks rather than the hollow ache in my chest.

'Luna.'

I turned to find Beta Derek Shaw standing in the doorway, his usually confident posture replaced by something more hesitant. He glanced over his shoulder as if afraid of being overheard.

'Yes, Beta Shaw?' I kept my voice neutral, professional.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. 'I... perhaps I should have spoken sooner. But I've noticed how... close the Alpha and Mira have become. The pack is starting to talk.'

I stared at him, this man who had stood silently by for months while I watched my mate slip away. 'And you're only telling me this now?'

His eyes dropped to the floor. 'I thought... I hoped it was just my imagination. But after tonight's run...' He trailed off.

'After tonight's run,' I repeated, the words cold in my mouth. 'When he publicly humiliated me by giving another woman his protection. Is that what finally convinced you?'

He flinched. 'Luna, I—'

'No.' I cut him off, my voice sharp. 'Don't. If the Beta of this pack is only speaking up now, then the damage is already done.'

I turned back to the feast preparations, dismissing him without another word. The kitchen door closed behind him with a soft click, and I was alone again.

Minutes later, the pack began filtering back into the great hall for the formal New Year's feast. I took my place at the high table, smoothing the front of my dress and straightening my spine. Across from me sat Collin in his Alpha seat, and to his right—in the place that had always been mine alone—was Mira, her eyes downcast in a perfect display of humble gratitude.

I met her gaze steadily, refusing to look away first. Let them see that I would not break, that I would not give them the satisfaction of a jealous outburst. I would maintain the dignity of my position, even if it was all I had left.