Alpha Pays for Deception

The morning after our confrontation, I made a decision that would have horrified the Luna I'd been just weeks ago. I began watching my own mate.

It started innocently enough—noting when Charles left for his morning rounds, timing his return from patrol duties. But as the days passed, a pattern emerged that made my wolf retreat deeper into the shadows of our bond.

Every afternoon at precisely two o'clock, Charles would disappear for what he called "administrative duties." His destination was always the same: Elle Webb's healing quarters on the east side of the pack house. What should have been brief consultations stretched into hours, and when he finally emerged, the bitter scent of wolfsbane tea clung to his clothes like a lover's perfume.

I stood at my office window on the third day, watching him stride across the courtyard toward Elle's building with an energy I hadn't seen him display in months. His shoulders were straight, his step lighter, as if he was walking toward something he actually wanted.

When had he stopped looking at me that way?

The question burned in my chest as I turned away from the window, only to find our three-year-old son tugging at my skirt.

"Mama, when is Papa coming to help with my ceremony?" His green eyes—so like his father's—looked up at me with innocent expectation.

I knelt to his level, smoothing his dark hair. "What ceremony, sweetheart?"

"Elder Patricia said all Alpha pups have a special ceremony when they turn three. She said Papa needs to teach me the pack songs and show me the sacred stones." He bounced on his toes with excitement. "She said it's very important for Alpha bloodlines."

My heart clenched. Of course. The coming-of-age milestone ceremony—a tradition as old as our pack itself. Every Alpha father participated in preparing his son for this sacred rite, passing down the ancient knowledge that bound our bloodline to the Moon Goddess.

"I'll talk to Papa about it," I promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

But when Charles returned that evening, reeking of wolfsbane and Elle's jasmine perfume, his response shattered something fundamental inside me.

"I'm swamped with Alpha duties right now," he said without even looking up from the patrol reports scattered across his desk. "The ceremony isn't for another week. There's plenty of time."

"Charles, this isn't something you can postpone." I kept my voice level, though my wolf was pacing anxiously. "The preparation rituals take days. Your father started teaching you the sacred songs when you were barely walking."

He waved a dismissive hand. "The pack elders can handle the traditional aspects. I have more pressing concerns."

More pressing than his own son. More pressing than the sacred duties that defined an Alpha father's bond with his heir.

I watched him for a long moment, this man I'd mated with, this stranger wearing my husband's face. "What could possibly be more important than your son's ceremony?"

Finally, he looked up, and the irritation in his eyes cut deep. "Layla, you're being dramatic. It's just a ceremony. He's three years old—he won't even remember most of it."

Just a ceremony. The words echoed in my mind as I left his office, my hands shaking with suppressed rage and heartbreak.

The next morning, I learned exactly what Charles considered more pressing than his son's sacred milestone.

"Did you hear?" Beta Marcus's mate, Jennifer, whispered to me during the weekly Luna circle. "Alpha Charles spent the entire day yesterday at the craftsman's workshop in town."

My blood turned to ice. "The craftsman's?"

"Oh yes," another Luna chimed in, her eyes bright with gossip. "He was commissioning the most beautiful ceremonial robes. Silk and silver thread, hand-embroidered with moon phases. The craftsman said he'd never seen an Alpha pay such attention to detail."

The world tilted beneath me. "For... for our son's ceremony?"

Jennifer's expression grew confused. "Oh no, dear. These were for Elle Webb's daughter. Little Sarah's first shift ceremony is coming up, and apparently, Alpha Charles wanted everything to be perfect. He even selected the ritual stones himself and arranged for the finest ceremonial feast the pack has seen in years."

The other women continued chattering, but their voices faded to white noise. Charles had spent an entire day—the day he'd claimed to be too busy for his own son—personally overseeing every detail of another child's ceremony. Elle's child.

I excused myself from the circle with some mumbled explanation and walked blindly back to the pack house. In the distance, I could see Charles emerging from Elle's quarters again, his face animated in a way I hadn't witnessed in our home for months.

Our son appeared at my side, still clutching the small wooden wolf his grandfather had carved for Charles's own ceremony decades ago.

"Mama, why doesn't Papa want to teach me the pack songs?" His voice was small, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

I pulled him close, breathing in his innocent scent while my mate's betrayal crystallized into something sharp and unforgivable in my chest.

"No, sweetheart," I whispered against his hair. "You didn't do anything wrong."

But as I watched Charles disappear into Elle's building once again, I finally understood that the man I'd devoted five years of my life to had already chosen his priorities.

And we weren't among them.