Luna's Revenge

The cold emptiness beside me pulled me from sleep like a physical blow. My hand swept across Jason's side of the bed, finding only rumpled sheets that had long since lost his warmth. The digital clock's harsh red numbers glared back at me: 2:47 AM.

My white wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, her unease bleeding into my consciousness. Something was wrong. The mate bond, usually a steady warmth in my chest, felt... muted. Weakened somehow, like a radio signal fading in and out of range.

I pushed myself up carefully, my six-month belly making the movement awkward. The baby kicked in response, as if sensing my tension. "Shh, little one," I whispered, rubbing the spot where tiny feet pressed against my ribs. "Mama's just checking on Papa."

But even as I spoke the words, doubt crept in like poison. Jason's scent trail led directly to the bedroom door, then disappeared into the hallway. I followed it silently, my bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floors—a skill learned during my rogue years when stealth meant survival.

The front door stood slightly ajar, letting in the cool night air. His trail vanished into the forest beyond, swallowed by wind and darkness. A security patrol, most likely. Jason took his Alpha duties seriously, often making unexpected rounds to ensure our territory's safety.

I settled into the window seat, pulling a blanket around my shoulders. The baby shifted again, and I found myself humming softly—a lullaby my mother had sung to me in fragments of memory I could barely grasp. The melody calmed both the child and my restless wolf.

Time crawled by. Three hours. Three hours for a simple patrol.

The sound of the front door closing finally broke the silence. I heard Jason's heavy footsteps on the stairs, followed by the rush of water from our ensuite shower. Always so considerate, not wanting to wake me with forest scents and sweat.

When he finally slipped back into bed, I pretended to stir naturally. "Everything alright?" I murmured, turning toward him.

"Just checking the northern border," he said, his voice carrying that practiced Alpha authority even in whispers. "Some unusual scents near the old oak grove. Probably just a passing deer herd, but better safe than sorry."

I nestled against his chest, breathing in his familiar warmth. Pine and earth, leather and that uniquely masculine scent that had first drawn my wolf to him. But underneath...

My enhanced senses, sharpened by both my rare white wolf genetics and Luna status, caught something else. Something that made my stomach clench and my wolf bare her teeth in silent fury.

The intimate musk of another she-wolf. Not just her presence—that could be explained by pack interactions. This was deeper. More personal. The kind of scent that clung to skin after prolonged contact, after shared breath and tangled limbs.

"The patrol took longer than expected," Jason continued, his hand stroking my hair with the same tenderness as always. "Had to track the scent trail to make sure we weren't dealing with rogues."

I forced my breathing to remain steady, my body relaxed against his. But inside, my white wolf paced like a caged predator, her rage a living thing that threatened to burst through my carefully maintained control.

"Three hours," I said softly, as if half-asleep. "That's quite a trail."

"You know how it is. Can't be too careful with the baby coming." His lips pressed against the crown of my head. "I need to keep my girls safe."

The endearment that once melted my heart now felt like acid on an open wound. His girls. Plural. How fitting.

I tilted my face up to meet his gaze in the dim moonlight filtering through our curtains. Those green eyes that had captivated me from our first meeting looked back with what appeared to be genuine affection. If I hadn't spent my formative years learning to read deception in every shadow, I might have missed the subtle signs. The slight tension around his eyes. The way his smile didn't quite reach them. The barely perceptible quickening of his pulse that spoke of guilt rather than desire.

"I love you," he whispered, the words falling between us like stones into still water.

"I love you too," I replied automatically, though the words tasted like ashes.

As Jason drifted back to sleep, his arm heavy across my swollen belly, I stared at the ceiling and felt the mate bond flutter weakly in my chest like a dying flame. My daughter stirred restlessly, as if she too sensed the shift in our carefully constructed world.

I had survived as a rogue by trusting my instincts, by recognizing danger before it could destroy me. Now those same instincts screamed warnings I could no longer ignore. The scent of betrayal clung to my mate's skin, and somewhere in the darkness, other she-wolves circled like wolves around wounded prey.

But they had made one critical mistake. They underestimated what a rogue wolf would do to protect her young.