After My Mate Betrayed Me with My Childhood Enemy

The ballroom of the Hamilton Pack House was suffocating, despite the grand double doors thrown open to the cool night air. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto the polished floors, illuminating the sea of wolves dressed in their finest silks and suits. They were here to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the alliance between the Hamiltons and the Hunters—and, unofficially, to whisper about the heir growing inside me.

I rested a hand on the swell of my belly, wincing as a sharp kick radiated against my ribs. My ankles were swollen in these ridiculous heels, and my back ached with a dull, persistent throb. But as the Luna of the Hunter Moon Pack and the daughter of Alpha Hamilton, I had a role to play. I had to be the glowing, happy wife.

"Where are you, Lucas?" I murmured, scanning the crowd.

My eyes snagged on my father, Alpha Hamilton, laughing too loudly near the buffet. He held a glass of champagne in one hand, his other resting possessively on the lower back of a woman whose face I couldn't quite see. A shiver of unease crawled up my spine, but I shook it off. My focus was on my mate.

I finally spotted him near the balcony doors. Lucas stood with his back to the party, staring out into the darkness. The moonlight caught the sharp angle of his jaw, making him look more like a statue than a man. My heart gave a traitorous flutter. Even after a year of marriage, his scent—pine and rain—still made my wolf pace with need.

I wove through the crowd, dodging well-wishers and curious stares. "Lucas?"

He didn't turn around immediately. When he did, his expression wasn't the warm look of a mate greeting his pregnant wife. It was the guarded, blank mask of an Alpha addressing a subordinate.

"June," he said, his voice flat. "You should be sitting down."

"I wanted to find you," I said, reaching for his hand. His skin was cold. I guided his palm to my stomach, smiling tentatively. "He's been kicking all night. The little warrior knows his father is near."

For a split second, I saw something flicker in Lucas's eyes—pain? Guilt? But before I could decipher it, he flinched. He pulled his hand away as if my skin burned him.

"Don't," he snapped, too harsh, too loud. A few heads turned nearby.

My smile faltered. "Lucas? What's wrong?"

He adjusted his cufflinks, looking everywhere but at me. "Nothing. The noise is just… a lot. The integration of the border patrols is giving me a headache."

My wolf whined low in my chest. *He is lying,* she whispered. *He is closing the bond.* I could feel the wall slamming down in my mind, blocking me from his emotions. It was a cold, empty sensation.

"I have to take a call," Lucas said abruptly, already stepping away. "Business. Don't wait up."

He left me standing alone by the balcony, the festive music suddenly sounding like a funeral dirge. I watched him disappear into the shadows of the garden, my hand hovering over my belly, protecting the son his father didn't seem to want to touch.

***

The next morning, the sun was too bright, mocking the sleepless night I’d endured. I carried a tray of coffee and toast up the stairs to Lucas's home office. Maybe he was just stressed. Maybe the anniversary brought up bad memories of his parents. I could fix this. I was his Luna; it was my job to soothe him.

The heavy oak door to his office was unlocked. "Lucas?" I called softly, pushing it open.

The room was empty. His leather chair was spun away from the desk, and the air smelled stale. I set the tray down on the edge of his massive mahogany desk, my eyes drifting to the wall safe behind it. It was usually hidden behind a painting of the forest, but the frame was crooked, and the safe door was slightly ajar.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Lucas was meticulous. He never left things open. Panic flared—had we been robbed? Was there a breach in security?

I moved closer, my fingers trembling as I pulled the heavy steel door open. I expected to see missing ledgers or stolen cash. Instead, I saw a small, velvet-lined drawer pulled halfway out.

Inside, there were no confidential files. There was a silk scarf—a delicate, sheer thing patterned with violets—and a single, dried pressed flower. An orchid.

I frowned, reaching out. As soon as my fingertips brushed the silk, the scent hit me. It wasn't my jasmine. It wasn't the clean, sterile smell of the office. It was sickly sweet. Vanilla and orchid. Cloying and heavy.

It was the scent of Millie Perkins.

The world tilted on its axis. Millie? My childhood tormentor? The daughter of the woman who destroyed my mother? Why would my mate have her scarf locked in his private safe?

"What do you think you're doing?"

The voice was a thunderclap. I spun around, clutching the scarf to my chest. Lucas stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing with a fury I had never seen directed at me.

"Lucas," I stammered, the evidence of his betrayal burning my skin. "This… this smells like Millie. Why is this in your safe?"

He didn't answer. He crossed the room in three long strides, snatching the silk from my hands with enough force to make me stumble back against the desk. He shoved it back into the safe and slammed the door shut, spinning the dial with violent precision.

"You have no right," he snarled, turning on me. His Alpha aura flared, heavy and suffocating, pressing me down. My wolf cowered, confused by the aggression from her own mate.

"No right?" My voice shook, but I forced myself to stand tall. "I am your wife. I am carrying your heir. Why are you keeping tokens of another woman? A woman who hates my family?"

"You are invading my privacy!" Lucas roared, his face inches from mine. "Being Luna does not give you permission to rifle through my personal history! That is from… from a long time ago. Before us."

"It still smells like her," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "The scent is fresh, Lucas."

"You're paranoid," he spat, backing away and running a hand through his hair. "The pregnancy is making you crazy. You're smelling things that aren't there. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to question my honor like this?"

He looked at me with such disdain that I felt small. Dirty. Maybe he was right. Maybe my hormones were messing with my senses. Or maybe I just desperately wanted to believe him because the alternative would break me.

"I… I didn't mean to pry," I said, my voice barely audible. "The door was open…"

"Get out," Lucas said, turning his back to me again. "Just get out, June. I can't even look at you right now."

I fled the room, the phantom scent of vanilla and orchid clinging to my hands, a poisonous reminder that the man I loved was a stranger.