Abandoned by Fated Mate

I stood in the center of Blake's study, my heart hammering against my ribs. The grand room with its mahogany furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves had once felt like a sanctuary. Now it felt like a courtroom, with me as both prosecutor and defendant.

"I need to know the truth about you and Lauren," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. The words had been building inside me since I'd awakened in the Healer's Den three days ago to find Blake mind-linking with her instead of attending to me.

Blake looked up from his desk, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie to me." My hands trembled at my sides. "I'm not blind, Blake. The way you look at her, the way you rush to her side. The way you were mind-linking with her while I was bleeding out."

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. He rose slowly from his chair, his broad shoulders tensing under his crisp white shirt. The russet-gold of his wolf flickered beneath his skin.

"I will not be questioned in my own study." His voice dropped into that Alpha tone—that special, commanding frequency that made lesser wolves cower. The sound vibrated through my bones, pressing down on me like a physical weight.

I flinched but held my ground. "I'm not questioning you as your pack member. I'm asking you as your mate."

"You're being paranoid." He circled the desk, approaching me with measured steps. "Lauren is the daughter of an allied Alpha. Our relationship is purely diplomatic."

"Diplomatic?" I laughed, the sound brittle. "Is that why she wears your scent? Why you wear hers?"

"You're imagining things." His dismissal was swift, practiced. "This insecurity isn't attractive, Quinn. Perhaps if you focused more on your duties as Luna instead of inventing problems—"

"Don't." I cut him off, a small act of defiance that made his eyes widen slightly. "Don't turn this around on me. That's what you always do."

He stepped closer, using his height to intimidate me. "I said, I will not be questioned." The Alpha tone intensified, making my wolf whimper inside me.

I backed away, realizing with sudden clarity that I'd never get the truth from him. The crack that had formed in the Healer's Den widened into a chasm.

* * *

Two hours later, I stood alone in the great hall, smoothing down the front of my formal dress. The pack gathering was about to begin—a celebration of the summer solstice. As Luna, I should have been entering with Blake, our bond on proud display.

Instead, I waited, watching the pack members filter in, their curious glances making my skin prickle. Where was Blake? He'd promised to meet me here twenty minutes ago.

A commotion at the side entrance caught everyone's attention. Lauren appeared, leaning dramatically against Blake's arm, her face contorted in exaggerated pain.

"It's nothing serious," she was saying loudly enough for everyone to hear, "just a twisted ankle from my morning run."

Blake's face was a mask of concern as he guided her to a seat, his hand lingering on her lower back. "Let me see it," he insisted, kneeling before her in full view of the gathering pack.

I stood frozen, my presence completely forgotten as pack members crowded around, offering sympathy and assistance. Blake's hands gently cradled Lauren's ankle, his touch reverent in a way it had never been with me.

The public display struck me like a physical blow. This wasn't just emotional distance or neglect. This was replacement. This was humiliation.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it. I backed away, slipping out of the hall unnoticed, my role as Luna apparently as forgotten as my role as mate.

* * *

The first crack of thunder made me jolt upright in bed. Outside my window, lightning split the night sky, illuminating the room in harsh, white light. Another boom followed, closer this time, and my lungs constricted painfully.

Thunderstorms. The sound that had haunted me since childhood—since that night my parents went out to patrol during a storm and never returned.

My chest tightened as memories flooded back: the rogues, the blood, being told I was an orphan. I fumbled for my inhaler on the nightstand, taking a desperate puff as another thunderclap shook the windows.

Panic clawed at my throat. I needed Blake. Despite everything, despite the study confrontation and the public humiliation, he was my mate. He had promised—always promised—to protect me during storms.

I reached for our mate bond, sending a desperate plea: *Blake, please. The storm. I need you.*

The silence stretched for agonizing seconds before his response came, cold and distant: *I'm attending to Lauren first. She's frightened by the thunder.*

The inhaler slipped from my fingers as another crash of thunder rattled the windows. Lauren. Always Lauren.

I curled into myself, arms wrapped tightly around my torso, as the storm raged outside and something inside me finally, irrevocably broke.