Abandoned by My Alpha Mate

The morning after our confrontation brought no relief, only a suffocating tension that seemed to seep through every corner of the pack house. I sat at the kitchen table, mechanically spooning oatmeal into my mouth while trying to ignore the whispered conversations that died abruptly whenever I entered a room.

"This is exactly what I warned you about." Gamma Cynthia's sharp voice carried from the Alpha's office, her words slicing through the morning quiet like a blade. "Your lack of discretion is becoming a pack liability, James. Do you have any idea what the other Alphas are saying?"

I set down my spoon, my appetite vanishing entirely. Through our weakened mate bond, I could feel James's irritation spike, but there was something else there too—shame, maybe, or guilt.

"I don't need a lecture from my sister," came his clipped response.

"You need a lecture from someone," Cynthia shot back. "Mother's been fielding calls all morning. The Riverside Pack is questioning our stability. The Mountain Ridge Pack is wondering if we're fit to maintain our alliances. And your mate—" Her voice dropped, but I could still hear every venomous word. "Your mate made a spectacle of herself last night. That howl... everyone heard it, James. Everyone knows something's wrong."

Lyra whimpered in my mind, pressing closer to my consciousness as if seeking comfort. The physical pain had started three days ago—a constant ache in my chest that felt like someone was slowly tearing my heart apart. It wasn't normal pregnancy discomfort. This was something deeper, more primal. The deteriorating mate bond was affecting my wolf's ability to sustain both herself and the pup.

"The pack comes first," James said finally, his Alpha authority bleeding into his voice even through the closed door. "It always has. Always will."

"Then act like it," Cynthia snapped. "Stop running to that Barnes woman every time she calls. You have responsibilities here. A pregnant mate who—"

"Don't." The word came out as a low growl. "Don't tell me how to handle my mate."

I pushed back from the table, my hands shaking as I gripped the edge for support. The conversation continued, but I couldn't bear to hear any more. Instead, I made my way to the pack's administrative office, hoping that focusing on work might provide some distraction from the constant ache in my chest.

The morning passed in a blur of supply orders and territory reports. I'd always been good at the logistical side of pack management—something James had never bothered to acknowledge, but that kept our operations running smoothly. Today, though, the numbers swam before my eyes, and I found myself having to read each line multiple times.

"Luna Miller's been asking for the quarterly budget reports," Beta Marcus mentioned as he dropped off a stack of invoices. His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the way his eyes lingered on my face, taking in what I knew must be obvious signs of strain.

"I'll have them ready by—" The words died in my throat as a sharp pain lanced through my chest. Not the dull ache I'd grown accustomed to, but something acute and devastating. Lyra let out a keening whine that only I could hear, her distress flooding through me like ice water.

The room tilted sideways. I reached for the desk, but my legs buckled, sending me crashing to the floor as darkness crept in around the edges of my vision. The last thing I heard was Marcus shouting for help, his voice seeming to come from very far away.

When awareness returned, I was being lifted by strong, steady arms. The scent that surrounded me wasn't James's familiar pine and earth—it was something warmer, more comforting. Cedar and rain, with an underlying sweetness that made Lyra stir with something that might have been recognition.

"I've got you," a deep voice murmured near my ear. "Just breathe, Sylvia. You're safe."

I opened my eyes to find myself cradled against Beta Huxley's chest, his dark eyes filled with a concern so genuine it made my throat tighten. For a moment, the constant ache in my chest eased, replaced by an unexpected warmth that seemed to flow from wherever his skin touched mine.

"Huxley?" I whispered, confused by the way Lyra had gone quiet for the first time in days, no longer whimpering in distress.

"The healer's waiting," he said softly, his arms tightening around me as he carried me toward the infirmary. "Everything's going to be okay."

As we passed the Alpha's office, I caught a glimpse of James through the open doorway. He was on the phone, his back turned to us, his voice low and urgent. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Kenny. The memorial service is more important than—"

His words cut off as he noticed us passing, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, devastating moment. I saw the choice written clearly in his expression—duty to his pack's pregnant Luna, or comfort for the woman who still held his heart.

He didn't move from behind his desk.

Huxley's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his arms remained gentle around me as he continued toward the infirmary, his presence the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.