Betrayed by Alpha Mate

I stood frozen at the edge of the clearing, my hand instinctively protecting my swollen belly as I watched Dylan among the gathered pack leaders. My mate—my Alpha—had been missing for seven days, and now I knew why.

Cynthia Green clung to his arm like a vine, her delicate fingers possessively wrapped around his bicep. She wore a flowing white dress that accentuated her slender frame, making me acutely aware of my own heavily pregnant body. But it wasn't her beauty that made my blood run cold—it was the way Dylan looked at her, with an intensity he hadn't shown me since our marking ceremony.

"Look at her," Luna growled within me. "She's touching our mate."

I tried to push forward, to demand answers, but something held me back. Maybe it was the way the other pack leaders circled around them, or how Dylan's hand rested on the small of her back—a gesture so intimate it made my stomach twist.

"Grace," Marcus whispered beside me. "We should go."

"No," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I need to know."

Before I could approach, Cynthia turned to face the crowd. Her smile was radiant as she gestured toward something behind her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, her voice carrying across the clearing. "I'd like to share something special with you all."

A large screen descended from the trees—some kind of projection system I hadn't seen before. My heart pounded as images began to appear.

Me.

Private moments I'd shared with Dylan in our most intimate hours.

"That's..." I gasped, unable to finish as I recognized myself in various stages of undress, in positions and places I'd only ever been with my mate.

The crowd erupted in laughter. I scanned the faces of the pack leaders—men and women I'd met at formal gatherings, who'd bowed to me as Luna of Silvercrest. Now they stared at the screen with amusement, some pointing and whispering.

"Is that really the Luna?" someone called out.

"The desperate Hart orphan who threw herself at an Alpha," another replied, loud enough for me to hear.

My face burned with humiliation as more images appeared—some I didn't even recognize, clearly manipulated to make me look worse. In one particularly cruel photo, I appeared to be begging Dylan for attention while he turned away.

"Stop," I whispered, but no one heard me over the jeers.

Luna howled in agony within me, clawing at my consciousness. The mate bond burned like acid in my chest as I watched my dignity being stripped away piece by piece.

"That's enough," I finally managed, my voice carrying across the clearing.

The crowd fell silent as I stepped forward, my head held high despite the tears threatening to fall.

"Dylan," I said, using our mind-link. My voice shook with betrayal as I pushed into our connection. "What is this?"

His eyes widened when he saw me, guilt flashing across his face before it hardened into defensiveness.

"Grace," he replied through our bond, his tone dismissive. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why are they showing these pictures?" I demanded, fighting to keep my composure as another image flashed across the screen—me sleeping peacefully beside him, clearly taken without my knowledge.

"This isn't the place," Dylan said, glancing around at the watching crowd. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"Embarrassing myself?" I echoed, incredulous. "You're the one who—"

"Just go home," he cut me off. "Now."

Luna snarled, urging me to challenge him, to fight for our position. But before I could respond, something glinted at Cynthia's throat.

My breath caught as I recognized the delicate silver chain and crescent moon pendant—my mother's ceremonial Luna necklace, passed down through generations of Hart Pack Lunas.

"Dylan," I whispered, reaching out to touch the necklace through our bond. "That's my mother's."

He didn't deny it. Instead, he stepped closer to Cynthia, his hand protectively covering hers where it rested on his arm.

"You said it was destroyed during the rogue attack," I accused, my voice breaking as the final piece fell into place.

Cynthia's smile widened as she fingered the pendant. "He gave it to me as a symbol of our bond," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Since you lost yours."

The crowd murmured approval, many nodding as if this made perfect sense. As if my mate giving away my family heirloom to another woman was somehow acceptable.

I stared at Dylan, waiting for him to deny it, to defend me, to do anything that showed he still valued our bond.

Instead, he simply said, "Go home, Grace. We'll talk later."

Luna's howl of anguish echoed through my mind as something inside me began to break.