Betrayed by My Alpha Mate

The wolf sanctuary sat at the edge of pack territory, a sprawling compound of natural enclosures and rehabilitation centers that I'd never been allowed to visit before. Cole had finally agreed to my request to adopt a pup, though his reluctance had been written across every line of his face.

"Just to look," he'd said, his voice carefully neutral. "We'll see how you feel around them."

Now, standing before the first enclosure, I understood his hesitation. The moment I stepped through the gate, something inside me shifted—a stirring so profound it felt like waking from a long sleep. Three wolf pups tumbled over each other in the grass, their playful yips echoing off the wooden fence posts.

"Oh," I breathed, my hand flying to my chest where an ache I couldn't name bloomed warm and insistent.

The smallest pup limped toward the fence, favoring her left front paw. Her fur was a mottled gray and white, and one ear bore a small notch—evidence of whatever trauma had brought her here. When she looked up at me with amber eyes that seemed far too wise for her age, my knees nearly buckled.

"Can I go in?" I asked the handler, a middle-aged woman named Janet whose weathered hands spoke of years working with wounded animals.

"She's been skittish around most people," Janet warned, but she was already unlocking the gate. "Been here three weeks since we found her. Mother was killed by rogues."

I stepped inside, moving slowly, instinctively knowing not to make sudden movements. The other pups bounded toward me immediately, but the injured one hung back, watching with those ancient eyes.

"Hey, little one," I whispered, sinking to my knees in the grass. "It's okay. I know what it feels like to be scared."

Something in my voice must have reached her because she took a tentative step forward, then another. When she was close enough, I extended my hand palm-up, letting her catch my scent. Her cold nose touched my fingers, and the contact sent electricity racing up my arm.

"Hope," I said suddenly, the name emerging from some deep place I didn't recognize. "Your name is Hope."

The pup's tail gave the faintest wag, and she pressed closer, allowing me to run gentle fingers through her soft fur. I found myself humming—a melody I didn't remember learning—as I examined her injured paw with practiced care.

"Looks like it's healing well," I murmured, my fingers finding the exact spots to massage without causing pain. "Just needs time and patience."

"Well, I'll be damned," Janet said from behind me, her voice filled with wonder. "She hasn't let anyone touch that paw since she got here. You've got Luna qualities, that's for sure."

I froze, my hand stilling on Hope's fur. "What do you mean?"

Janet's face went carefully blank, the same expression I'd seen on so many pack members when they caught themselves saying too much around me. "Oh, just... you know. Natural nurturing instincts. Good with pups."

"But you said Luna qualities specifically." I stood slowly, Hope whimpering at the loss of contact. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing important," Janet said quickly, already backing toward the gate. "Just pack talk, you know how it is."

But I didn't know how it was. That was the problem—I didn't know anything about pack dynamics or traditions or why the word 'Luna' made my chest tight with longing I couldn't explain.

I spent another hour with the pups, but Janet's words echoed in my mind. Luna qualities. The same word from the video—the word Cole had whispered to that other woman with such reverence.

As we walked back toward the main compound, Cole fell into step beside me, his presence both comforting and confusing as always.

"She's special," I said, thinking of Hope's trusting amber eyes. "I want to bring her home."

"If that's what you want," Cole replied, but there was something strained in his voice. "We can arrange it."

The pack house came into view, its windows glowing warm against the approaching dusk. But instead of heading inside, I found myself drawn to the side of the building where Cole's office window faced the courtyard. The meeting he'd mentioned was clearly in session—I could hear the low murmur of voices through the glass.

"I should check on dinner," I said casually, though my heart was racing.

Cole nodded, distracted by something on his phone. "I'll be in my office for a while. Pack business."

I waited until he disappeared inside, then crept closer to the window. The voices were clearer now, and what I heard made my blood run cold.

"...can't keep making excuses for her absence, Cole," a gruff male voice was saying. "The other packs are starting to talk. An Alpha without his Luna present is seen as weak."

"My Luna needs privacy to heal," Cole's voice cut through the room like a blade. "I won't have her paraded around for political convenience."

"But where is she?" another voice demanded. "No one's seen hide nor hair of her in months. Some are saying she's dead, others think you never had a proper mating to begin with."

The sound Cole made was somewhere between a growl and a sob. "Don't you dare question my bond with her. She's alive, she's healing, and she's still my Luna. That hasn't changed, and it never will."

My legs gave out, and I sank against the wall beneath the window, my mind reeling. His Luna. Present tense. Not past tense like he was mourning someone lost, but present—like she was still alive, still his.

But if I was just his chosen mate, his consolation prize, then where was his real Luna? And why did the ache in my chest feel like recognition rather than jealousy when I heard the raw love in his voice?