My Alpha Chose His Beta Over Me

The antiseptic smell of the infirmary burned my nostrils as I watched Dr. Elena Vasquez carefully clean the cuts on Hattie's arm. Blood seeped through the gauze, staining the white bandages crimson. The glass had sliced deep.

"Hold still," Dr. Vasquez murmured, her voice gentle but clinical. "These need stitches."

Hattie didn't flinch. She never did. Even when I'd lost control, even when the Alpha Tone had thrown her against the glass, she hadn't cried out. Now she sat motionless, her vacant eyes fixed on some point beyond the doctor's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered for the hundredth time.

Dr. Vasquez's hands paused momentarily. When she looked up at me, her eyes held something I couldn't quite read—pity? Accusation?

"Alpha," she said carefully, "Hattie needs rest. The trauma of the Alpha Tone... it's not just physical."

I nodded curtly, my jaw tight. "She knows what she did."

"Does she?" Dr. Vasquez asked softly, then immediately looked down. "I mean, with her condition..."

The unspoken question hung in the air between us. What kind of Alpha hurts the very person he swore to protect?

"I'll be in my office," I said, turning away. "Inform me when she's stable."

---

Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pack house. From my office window, I could see the training grounds emptying as warriors returned to their quarters. No one entered my office to check on Hattie. No one dared.

Except Annalise.

She knocked once, then entered without waiting for permission. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she approached my desk.

"How is she?" I asked, not looking up from the territorial reports.

"Bandaged and resting," Annalise replied, her voice honey-smooth. "I took the liberty of visiting her."

Something in her tone made me glance up. Annalise stood with perfect posture, her Beta insignia gleaming on her tailored jacket.

"What did you tell her?"

"I informed her that for her own safety—and yours—she's no longer permitted on the Alpha's floor or in the command center." Annalise's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I think it's for the best, don't you?"

I said nothing, but something cold settled in my chest.

---

The council chamber felt suffocating despite its high ceilings and open windows. Elder Patricia Whitmore sat at the head of the long table, her silver hair pulled back severely from her face.

"The situation has become untenable," she declared, her voice carrying the weight of decades of pack politics. "The Alpha's... pet... is a liability."

I stiffened but remained silent.

"Three years we've tolerated this arrangement," Patricia continued, her gaze sliding to me. "Three years we've watched our Alpha's resources poured into a broken vessel while the pack's future hangs in limbo."

"Careful, Elder," I warned, though my voice lacked conviction.

"She destroyed our historical archives," Elder Patricia pressed on. "What next? Our security systems? The pack's financial records?"

Murmurs rippled through the council. I caught Marcus's eye across the table, but he looked away.

"I've defended her," I said finally. "She saved my life."

"And we're grateful," Patricia replied smoothly. "But gratitude has its limits. The pack needs strength, not charity cases."

The words struck like physical blows. Hattie's face flashed in my mind—her vacant eyes, her fragile form curled on the infirmary bed.

"What do you suggest?" I asked, though I already knew.

"A Luna," Patricia said simply. "A strong mate who can stand beside you, not hide behind you."

I felt the weight of every council member's gaze. Annalise sat three chairs down, her expression carefully neutral.

"I need a strong Luna," I admitted aloud, surprising myself with how easily the words came. "The pack deserves stability."

A satisfied smile curved Patricia's thin lips.

"Then it's time to make it official," she pressed. "The Moon Ball is in three days. Announce your intention then."

I turned to look at Annalise, who met my gaze with calculated intensity.

"Annalise has proven herself indispensable," I said slowly. "My partner in all things."

Her eyes gleamed with triumph.

"I'll make the announcement at the Moon Ball," I declared, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

As the council members filed out, I remained seated, staring at the empty chair where Hattie should have been. For the first time since she'd returned to us, I wondered if I'd been wrong all along.