Luna Rejects Cheating Alpha

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at my phone. My fingers trembled as I hovered over the screen. Eight years of pain, of submission, of believing I was worthless because I couldn't give my Alpha an heir. And now this—intimate photos of another woman on my mate's phone.

My wolf paced restlessly inside me, her anger a living thing. "We deserve better," she whispered in my mind.

"I know," I murmured aloud.

I closed my eyes and reached for a connection I hadn't used in years—a mind-link from childhood, before pack politics and mate bonds complicated everything.

"Westin," I called silently, focusing on the faint thread that still connected us. "Westin Clark."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then—

"Mallory?" His voice in my mind was warm, surprised. "Is that really you?"

Relief flooded through me. "Yes. I... I need your help."

There was a pause, and I felt his presence in my mind strengthen, as if he was sitting up wherever he was.

"What's wrong?" The concern in his mental voice made my eyes sting with tears.

"He betrayed me," I whispered, both aloud and through our link. "Calvin... he's been with someone else. I found photos, messages..."

I felt Westin's anger flare through our connection, hot and fierce. "That bastard."

"You don't understand," I continued, my voice breaking. "For eight years, I've endured his mother's Luna aura crushing me, blaming me for not producing an heir. And all along, he's been—"

"Saving another woman's photos," Westin finished for me, his mental voice tight with controlled rage. "Mallory, where are you?"

"A hotel in neutral territory," I admitted. "I ran. I couldn't... I couldn't stay there after what I found."

Something shifted in our connection—a subtle change in how Westin was perceiving me. His Lycan senses were stronger than ordinary wolves, and even through our mental link, he was detecting something.

"Your scent," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's different."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind that now," he said, his focus sharpening. "You want revenge, don't you?"

The word hung between us, dangerous and tempting.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Then you'll have it." His mental voice hardened with determination. "I'm still a Lycan Prince, Mallory. My authority overrides even an Alpha's."

Hope fluttered in my chest. "What will you do?"

"First," he said, "we humiliate him."

Two days later, I watched from the shadows of a coffee shop near Silvercrest territory as Westin's plan unfolded. Through our renewed mind-link, I could sense his satisfaction as he made the call.

"The Silvercrest Pack council," he'd told me earlier. "Calvin's position as head warrior is about to become... obsolete."

I sipped my coffee, my heart racing as I waited for news.

It came in the form of my phone buzzing with pack alerts—messages I'd normally receive as Luna.

"Emergency pack meeting called. All members required to attend."

I slipped into the back of the pack gathering hall, hood pulled low over my face. No one paid attention to me—all eyes were on Westin, who stood tall beside the council elders.

"By order of Lycan authority," Westin announced, his voice carrying effortlessly through the room, "Alpha Calvin Richards' position as head warrior is hereby suspended."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Calvin stepped forward, his face flushed with anger.

"On what grounds?" he demanded.

"Dereliction of duty," Westin replied coolly. "And conduct unbecoming of a pack leader."

Calvin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have no right—"

"I have every right," Westin cut him off. "And furthermore, you are reassigned to omega duties effective immediately."

The room erupted in whispers. Omega duties—kitchen work, territory patrol cleanup, the most menial tasks in pack hierarchy.

"This is ridiculous!" Calvin's mother shrieked, her Luna aura flaring. "You can't do this!"

"I just did," Westin said simply.

I slipped out before anyone could notice me, but not before I saw Calvin's face—a mask of fury and humiliation as pack members stared and whispered.

Later that night, through our link, Westin confirmed what I'd suspected.

"He's desperate now," he told me. "And there's a rumor spreading that Lara might have connections to Lycan royalty."

"What?" I exclaimed aloud in my hotel room.

"Isn't it perfect?" Westin's mental laugh was dark with satisfaction. "She's been dropping hints, and he's eating it up."

I closed my eyes, picturing it—Calvin, paranoid and desperate after his public humiliation, clinging to any advantage.

"He believes she might be his way back to power," Westin continued. "And she's encouraging it. Sending him more photos, whispering about her 'royal connections.'"

Through our link, I felt Westin's Lycan wolf stir with interest. Something about this situation had caught his attention—something beyond our revenge plan.

"What is it?" I asked, sensing his distraction.

"Nothing," he said quickly. Too quickly.

But as we ended our connection for the night, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me—something about my scent, about the way his wolf had responded to mine through our renewed bond.

And as I drifted to sleep, I wondered what other secrets might be waiting to be uncovered.