After My Alpha Cheated, I Fled

The night embraced me like an old friend as I slipped through the shadows of the central territories. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a reminder of Thomas's betrayal. Three days had passed since I'd seen him with his chosen family, and the shock had crystallized into something harder, colder.

Lyra stirred within me, more alert than she'd been in years. *We need proof*, she whispered in my mind. *Undeniable proof*.

"I know," I murmured, pulling the hood of my dark jacket lower over my face.

The pack registry office stood before me, its windows dark except for the security lights. During the day, it housed records of all pack territories, leadership decrees, and official seals—everything I needed to confirm what Lily had unknowingly revealed.

I circled to the back entrance where the night clerk, an older omega wolf, took his smoke breaks. Right on schedule, the door creaked open, and he stepped out, cigarette already between his lips.

"Evening," I said softly, stepping from the shadows.

He startled, then relaxed when he caught my scent—just another female wolf, no threat. "Building's closed, miss."

"I know. I just need five minutes to check a territory record. My sister's considering a mate from the Silver Moon Pack, and I want to make sure it's legitimate."

His eyes softened. We omegas looked out for each other. "Five minutes. Touch nothing but the public records terminal."

Inside, I moved quickly to the central database. My fingers trembled as I typed "Thomas Mitchell" into the search field. The screen illuminated with results, and there it was—his official portrait, regal and commanding, beneath the title "Alpha King of the Northern Territories."

I pulled out the small holo-recorder I'd purchased with my carefully saved emergency funds and began capturing images. His territory maps, spanning not just our small outpost but vast, wealthy lands across three counties. His official seal on command decrees. The documented wealth of his holdings.

Each image was another knife in my heart, another confirmation of the decade-long lie I'd lived.

The moonlight streaming through the windows caught the gold embossing on a particularly important document—the official registry of his pack house. I photographed it carefully, memorizing the address.

"Two minutes," the clerk called softly from the doorway.

"Almost done," I replied, downloading one last file—the official pack hierarchy. There I was, listed as his Luna, but below my name was another: Vanessa Blackwood, designated as "Chosen Mate."

I slipped out as quietly as I'd entered, thanking the clerk with a genuine smile. He'd given me more than he knew—he'd given me armor for the battle ahead.

---

The next night found me perched on a hill overlooking Thomas's true home—a sprawling pack house that could house twenty families comfortably. From my vantage point, I could see the security gates, the manicured gardens, the gleaming windows that spoke of wealth I'd never been allowed to share.

I adjusted my position behind a cluster of bushes as a familiar engine sound approached. The Range Rover appeared, slowing as it reached the gates. I raised my holo-recorder, focusing on Thomas behind the wheel, his face relaxed and smiling—an expression I rarely saw in our territory.

The gates swung open, and the vehicle glided into the private garage. I captured it all—the casual way he entered his real home, the lights coming on in what must be the main living area, the silhouette of Vanessa moving to greet him.

Something shifted inside me as I watched. It wasn't just pain anymore. Something else was rising—something with teeth and claws.

*We deserve better*, Lyra growled, her voice stronger than I'd ever heard it. *We always have*.

I felt her presence expanding within me, her aura surging with a power I didn't recognize. For a moment, the world looked different—sharper, clearer, as if I'd been seeing through fog for years.

I slipped away from my hiding spot, evidence secured, Lyra's newfound strength flowing through my veins.

---

Back in my small den, I spread the evidence across my bed—photographs, documents, records of Thomas's true life. The contrast between the luxury in the images and my threadbare surroundings was stark enough to make me laugh, a hollow sound in the quiet room.

*What now?* I asked Lyra, surprised by how clearly I could feel her presence.

*Now we plan*, she answered, her voice no longer the timid whisper I was accustomed to. *Now we take back what's ours*.

I gathered the prints and photos, tucking them into a folder that I hid beneath a loose floorboard. As I did, I caught sight of my reflection in the cracked mirror—my eyes glowed with an amber light I'd never seen before, Lyra's power beginning to manifest physically.

"Ten years," I whispered to my reflection. "He's had ten years of my life. He won't get another day."

Outside, the moon hung heavy in the sky, bearing witness to my silent vow. Something was awakening within me—something Thomas had never expected to face.