Luna's Revenge: Banish My Disloyal Alpha

During my post-abortion checkup, I could still remember Roan—my mate and the Alpha of the Golden Moon pack, excused himself once more, leaving me alone in the sterile room of the pack's infirmary.

Then again, this had become a routine, his sudden disappearances, and I had grown accustomed to them. Initially, his absences pierced through me like a shard of ice, each instance a sting of abandonment. Over time, however, the pain dulled, fading into a numbed indifference.

I swallowed the medication that the pack healers gave me after the checkup and made my way to the pack house, where the Alpha and the Luna were supposed to reside. There, a sense of loneliness echoed in my footsteps.

Upon returning, I absentmindedly scrolled through one of my social media accounts—Twitter. A post from someone caught my eye, tagging Roan.

[Just had a small scratch, but he insisted on dragging me to the pack's infirmary, and has been accompanying me since! After all this time, you're still the best!]

I stared at the screen, not knowing what to feel.

Right...

It was odd.

There was no rage, no urge to confront my mate about his deceit. The energy it took to care felt like a burden too heavy to bear. Instead, I let it slip away, just another chore in the long list of exhausting tasks I had no interest in tackling anymore.

I didn't know when I stop caring.

Later, photos from the Alpha Gala, an event where Alphas of different packs gather, appeared in my inbox, featuring Roan and Tracy in intimate poses. It should have ignited a blaze of anger within me, but instead, I felt a strange calm wash over me. Not long after, I saw my mate entering the pack house, just a few steps from me, cradling Tracy's child as they strolled together.

From behind, they looked like a family. I found myself smiling softly, my voice steady as I mumbled, "The child needs a father figure, huh? Then, spend more time with them, Alpha."

Upon hearing my remark, Roan's reaction was a frantic grab at my arm, his eyes searching mine with desperation as he asked, "Lori, why don't you care anymore?"

**

The miscarriage I suffered had been the result of an accident, I accidentally fell, causing stress to my stomach. Today marked the second month since my abortion surgery, and my mate had agreed to accompany me to the follow-up checkup. As always, he found an excuse to leave hastily. This time, though, I felt no compulsion to hold onto him, no desire to plead for his presence.

Well, not anymore.

Watching the Alpha's retreating figure, a wave of detachment swept over me. I realized, with clarity, that anything he did no longer held any sway over my emotions. It was as if my heart was done loving him blindly.

The sadness I once felt in his absence was gone, leaving behind nothing but a void.

A healer called my name, bringing me back to the present. I collected the test results silently, gathered my belongings, and prepared to leave.

Not long after, Roan talked to me through our mind link, "Lori, you can go home on your own, right? I still have things to do."

There was a time when I would have clung to him desperately, replying with pleas like, "But I need you right now, Alpha." Now, it felt futile. With a sense of resigned acceptance, I uttered back, "Fine."

After that, I hailed a cab, but unknowingly, I looked back at the pack's infirmary as I settled inside, and there I noticed Roan's car outside the place. A flicker of curiosity sparked within me—why was he here if he claimed he couldn’t pick me up?

When I arrived at the pack house, I opened Twitter again. As expected, Tracy tagged Roan in another post.

[Just had a small scratch, but he insisted on dragging me to the hospital and has been accompanying me since. After all this time, you're still the best!]

Tracy, I remembered her well. Who wouldn't?

She had posted a photo on Twitter with my mate before. In the background, I recognized the shirt I had picked out for Roan on his birthday, now draped over his shoulders in the picture. Tracy Tompson was Roan's childhood sweetheart.

Years ago, Tracy had moved away from the pack with her Alpha and mated with him. Life took a cruel turn for her when her mate died. From what I heard, things became cruel for Tracy and her child with the dead Alpha. Because she was a fallen Luna, she no longer held any power. And she was later shunned from the pack they once led.

That was when she returned to Bellflower town with a four-year-old child. In Roan’s eyes, I had been nothing more than a placeholder for Tracy during her absence. But I had loved him deeply then, enough to mate with him despite knowing the truth. My miscarriage had been a silent warning—a child with Roan would never be good for either of us.

In our Golden Moon pack, Roan was the Alpha, strong and commanding. I, as his mate, was the Luna. Our bond was supposed to be sacred, a connection that transcended all others. Yet, here I was, adrift in a sea of disillusionment, my role as Luna feeling more like a hollow title than a cherished position.

After taking the medication prescribed by one of the pack's healers, I drifted into a deep sleep.

However, it didn't take long before I woke up. The sound of the door creaking open roused me in the middle of the night. As I struggled to shake off my sleepiness, I felt my mate's presence beside me. His hand reached out to stroke my hair gently.

“What did the healer say today?” he asked, his voice soft and soothing.

I caught a whiff of an unfamiliar wolf fragrance clinging to him—a she-wolf in particular. A pang of unease tightened in my chest, but I refused to acknowledge it. I turned my head slightly, evading his touch.

“Oh, nothing important,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “Everything’s fine.”

The Alpha nodded, his expression a mask of concern mixed with something else—guilt, perhaps? “My position as an Alpha has been giving me a hectic schedule lately,” he said, his tone a bit too rushed. “I've been kept very busy.”

I could sense the lie behind his words, the weight of an unspoken truth hanging in the air between us. But instead of confronting him, I chose to bury my suspicions. Rolling over to face away from him, I murmured, “Maybe you should take a shower before going to bed.”

For a moment, he hesitated, as if contemplating whether to explain further. But he remained silent. I listened as he opened the bathroom door, the sound of water beginning to flow from the showerhead filling the quiet room. The soft trickling of the water was the only sound, mingling with my thoughts as I lay there, willing myself back into the refuge of sleep.