Alpha's Affair, Luna's Wrath

I tapped my pencil against the edge of my sketchpad, staring at the half-finished design for the ceremonial necklace I planned to surprise Marcus with for our fifth anniversary. The silver and moonstone piece would symbolize our enduring bond—five perfect years as Alpha and Luna of the Silverstone Pack.

"What do you think, Lyra?" I whispered to my wolf, who purred contentedly in my mind.

*Beautiful, like all your creations, Victoria.*

My inner wolf had always been my greatest supporter, even before Marcus. I smiled, setting down my pencil and stretching my arms above my head. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of our shared study, casting a warm glow over the polished oak desk.

Marcus had left his tablet behind this morning in his rush to handle what he'd called an "urgent pack matter." I reached for it, thinking I could review some of the anniversary celebration plans we'd been discussing. We'd granted each other access to our devices years ago—a symbol of trust between mates.

The screen lit up at my touch, revealing a messaging app I rarely used. A notification blinked insistently in the corner—from Amber Rodriguez, our new pack coordinator. My finger hovered over it, a strange uneasiness settling in my stomach.

*Just check it,* Lyra urged. *It might be important pack business.*

I tapped the notification, and my world shifted on its axis.

"Missing you already, Alpha," the message read. "Last night was incredible... can't wait to feel your hands on me again."

My breath caught in my throat. Below the text was a video thumbnail—Amber's face, her expression one of unmistakable ecstasy.

"No," I whispered, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the screen. "No, this can't be..."

Lyra growled, a low, dangerous sound that reverberated through my chest. *Play it.*

I shouldn't have. But I did.

The video started, and there was no mistaking what I was seeing. Amber, naked and writhing, the camera angle capturing her body and—my stomach lurched—Marcus's hands on her skin. His voice, husky with desire, saying things he'd once whispered only to me.

"You're so beautiful, Amber. So perfect for me."

I scrolled up, desperately hoping this was a one-sided obsession, that Marcus was being pursued but not participating. But the evidence mounted with each swipe—weeks, maybe months of exchanges. Explicit photos. Plans for secret meetings. My mate's words becoming increasingly intimate, increasingly betraying.

"I'll find a way to get rid of her soon," one message from Marcus read. "You're what I really want."

The tablet slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the desk. Lyra was howling now, the sound echoing painfully through my mind as tears blurred my vision.

*We need to see it with our own eyes,* she snarled. *We need to know for certain.*

I moved through the house in a daze, changing into a simple blue dress and gathering Marcus's favorite lunch—a gesture I'd performed countless times as his devoted Luna. The irony wasn't lost on me as I packed the container with trembling hands.

The drive to the pack house was a blur. Werewolves nodded respectfully as I passed, their Luna gliding through the halls with practiced grace. If only they knew how my heart was shattering with each step.

Marcus's office door was slightly ajar. I heard voices—his and a female's—low and intimate. I approached slowly, lunch container clutched to my chest like a shield.

Through the crack in the door, I saw them. My mate—my Alpha, my everything—had Amber pressed against his desk, his hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her with a passion I thought was reserved only for me. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt.

"Marcus," she moaned, "we don't have much time before someone comes looking for you."

"Let them," he growled, nipping at her neck—where his mark should have been on me alone. "I don't care anymore."

Lyra's anguished howl tore through me, so loud I was certain they must have heard it. The lunch container slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. Amber's eyes flew open, meeting mine over Marcus's shoulder.

Her lips curved into a smile of pure triumph.

Marcus whirled around, his face transforming from passion to shock in an instant. "Victoria," he breathed, hastily separating from Amber. "This isn't—"

But it was. It was exactly what it looked like.

And as I stood there, watching my world crumble, I felt something shift inside me—something cold and resolute taking root where blind love had once lived.