Betrayed by My Mate, Hunted by My Pack

Ayla’s cries ripped through the heavy silence, piercing my ears as Clinton dragged me by my hair across the packhouse floor.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming, my scalp on fire where his fingers gripped my roots. He wasn’t being gentle—no, this was a punishment!

Each step he dragged me by my hair felt like he was trying to break me down, reminding me of just how powerless I was in his eyes.

"Clinton!" I gasped, "Let go!"

But he didn’t. He just pulled harder.

The pack had gathered for an “important announcement,” but I knew what this was. The mask was off now. This wasn’t a meeting. It was a public execution.

I tried to hold Ayla tighter in my arms, her tiny body trembling against mine. She was crying, and the sound of her distress was tearing me apart. But Clinton didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about anything except his own damn ego.

"You think you’re worthy of being Luna?" he sneered over his shoulder. "You’ve failed me, Lalaine. You failed this pack."

My heart thundered in my chest. My blood boiled. I had loved him once—had believed in him—believed that he could be the man I saw in him before. But now? He was a monster, and I couldn’t recognize him anymore.

His grip on my hair tightened, and I bit back a sob. He was dragging me like I was nothing—like I meant nothing. My knees were buckling with every step, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall.

The pack was murmuring now. I could hear their whispers, the judgment in their eyes. But they didn’t know. None of them did. They didn’t see the months of manipulation, the promises he’d broken, the way he’d turned his back on me when things got tough. They didn’t know the lies he’d fed me.

Finally, we reached the center of the grand hall. Clinton shoved me forward, and I stumbled, barely managing to keep my footing.

Ayla’s cries were louder now, her small hands reaching out, trying to grab for me.

“Shh, baby,” I whispered, my voice breaking. "M-mommy’s here."

But Clinton wasn’t done.

He turned to the pack, his face twisted into a smug smile. "Everyone, gather round! I’ve got an announcement that’s going to change everything."

The murmurs quieted down as Clinton walked over to the far side of the hall. And there she was.

Dahlia.

She was standing there with that fake smile plastered across her face, holding a baby in her arms. A baby boy. My stomach lurched at the sight.

Clinton’s hand rested possessively on her back, like he was trying to stake his claim in front of everyone. “This,” his voice booming through the room, “is my son. The future Alpha.”

I froze. My breath hitched. The world tilted beneath me, my vision blurring with anger.

His son. His son.

I looked down at Ayla, and something inside me snapped. This wasn’t about a son. This was about control. About power. About tearing me apart to get exactly what he wanted.

Clinton didn’t even look at me as he introduced Dahlia to the pack. “And this,” he continued, as if I wasn’t even standing there, holding Ayla in my arms, “is Dahlia. The new Luna.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. It was like the ground beneath me vanished.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Lalaine has been incapable of providing me with the son I need,” Clinton said, his voice dripping with venom. "I need someone who can give me strength. Someone who can actually lead this pack beside me."

I felt my chest tighten, a lump forming in my throat. He was belittling me. All those years, all those promises, and now he was publicly humiliating me.