My Alpha Abandoned Our Son for the Pack’s Healer’s Boy

I woke alone in our bed, the sheets beside me cold and undisturbed. The digital clock on the nightstand read 6:17 AM—Nash's birthday. I'd set my alarm early to prepare his favorite breakfast before he woke. Joseph hadn't come home last night.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as I slipped from beneath the covers, my bare feet touching the plush carpet. The Alpha suite felt hollow without him. I'd grown accustomed to his absence, but today of all days...

"He'll be here," I whispered to myself, though my wolf whined in disagreement. She knew better. She always knew.

I dressed quickly in a pair of jeans and a silver blouse—the color of our pack—and pulled my hair into a loose braid. Downstairs, I found Elena, our pack healer, already in the kitchen preparing Nash's birthday breakfast.

"Luna Sophia," she greeted me with a gentle smile. "I thought you might need help this morning."

"Thank you," I said, grateful for her thoughtfulness. "Nash specifically requested pancakes with blueberries and honey."

"Already on the menu," Elena assured me, her eyes holding a sympathy I didn't want to acknowledge.

I heard the front door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. Joseph. My wolf perked up, eager despite everything.

"There's my birthday boy!" Joseph's voice boomed from the hallway. I stepped into the entryway to find him kneeling before Nash, who was still in his pajamas.

"Dad!" Nash squealed, launching himself into Joseph's arms. "Are we going to have cake later?"

"Of course we are, champ," Joseph replied, ruffling Nash's hair. His eyes met mine over our son's head. "Morning, Soph."

Something in me tightened as he approached. It wasn't until he leaned in to kiss my cheek that I caught it—a cloying, floral scent that didn't belong to him. To us.

Carla's perfume.

My wolf snarled, hackles raised. Joseph straightened, oblivious to my reaction.

"I need to shower," he announced. "Been on patrol all night."

"Patrol," I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.

Two hours later, while Joseph showered, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. I shouldn't look. I knew I shouldn't. But something drove me forward.

One swipe revealed dozens of messages between him and Carla.

*Thank you for being here last night. Talon finally fell asleep.*

*Anytime. You know that.*

*You're the father he needs.*

My hands trembled as I scrolled upward. Hours of messages exchanged during the time he claimed to be patrolling our territory.

"Mom! Everyone's here!" Nash burst into the room, his face glowing with excitement. "Can we cut the cake now?"

---

The Pack House glowed with silver and blue decorations. Pack members filled every corner, their faces warm with genuine happiness for Nash's special day. I'd spent hours ensuring everything was perfect—a small compensation for the father who was increasingly absent.

Nash sat in the center of it all, his eyes wide as Marcus brought out the cake. Five candles flickered, casting golden light across his hopeful face.

"Make a wish, little Alpha," Marcus encouraged.

Nash squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating intensely before blowing with all his might. The candles extinguished in a shower of sparks.

"Perfect!" I exclaimed, my heart bursting with pride despite everything.

That's when I felt it—the shift in energy. Joseph's posture stiffened beside me. His eyes unfocused slightly—the telltale sign of receiving a mind-link.

"Alpha?" I questioned quietly.

His face paled. "It's Carla. Talon's shifting early. He's in pain."

My grip tightened on his arm. "He's too young to shift."

"It's happening," Joseph insisted, already stepping back. "I need to go."

"No," I hissed. "Today is Nash's birthday. The entire pack is here."

But Joseph wasn't listening. He addressed the room with practiced authority. "There's a medical emergency with one of our pups. Please continue celebrating. I'll return as soon as possible."

Before I could protest further, he was gone, leaving Nash staring after him with confusion that quickly morphed into understanding beyond his years.

"Dad has to help someone else," he said quietly, picking up his fork. "That's okay."

The pack murmured sympathetically, but their eyes held questions. Questions I couldn't answer.

---

It was past midnight when Joseph returned. I sat in the guest room, a small suitcase open on the bed beside me.

"You're back," I said flatly.

"Talon was just feverish," he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair. "Not shifting."

"I figured."

"Sophia, don't start—"

"Three chances," I interrupted, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. "You have three chances to prove you're the Alpha of this family, not Carla's surrogate."

Joseph laughed—actually laughed. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the mate bond," I said, standing to face him. "The sacred bond you've been systematically destroying. Three strikes, Joseph. That's all you get."

He rolled his eyes. "Always so dramatic."

"This isn't drama," I replied, zipping the suitcase closed. "This is your last warning."

As I brushed past him toward the door, I caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Too little, too late.