My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over His Dying Luna

I spent the next three nights expanding the ledger.

The healing wing kept records. Not the official allocation lists that Archer signed—those were locked in his office. But the healers tracked inventory. Doses administered. Dates. Patient names. Medical justifications. They had to. It was basic administrative protocol.

I had been Luna long enough to know where those records were kept. A filing cabinet in the back office, unlocked during day shifts, secured at night. I waited until the evening rotation changed, then walked in like I belonged there. Because I did. I was still Luna, even if my mate had forgotten what that meant.

The records confirmed everything.

Lilia Voss. Eight doses over six months. Medical justification: mild blood fatigue, supplementary treatment recommended. Recommended. Not required. Not life-saving. Recommended.

I cross-referenced the dates against my own applications. Every time I had been denied, Lilia had received a dose within forty-eight hours. Every single time.

I traced the approval signatures. Archer's, always. But beneath his, in smaller script, were countersignatures from the healers. And beneath those, in the notes section, were references to communications with Ironridge Pack. Coordination of care, the notes said. Inter-pack medical cooperation.

I pulled the correspondence logs next. They were filed separately, in a drawer marked administrative. Letters between Archer and Alpha Seraphine Voss. Polite. Professional. Full of the careful language of alliance-building. Territorial agreements. Trade routes. Resource sharing.

And tucked into the third letter, a single line: We appreciate Silverfang's continued support of our daughter's recovery.

I sat on the floor of the back office with papers spread around me like evidence at a crime scene. Because that's what it was. A crime dressed in pack law and political courtesy.

I made copies. Two sets. One I hid in the Omega section, tucked into the lining of Maisy's spare blanket. The other I folded into a waterproof pouch and buried in the small garden outside the healing wing, beneath the wolfsbane plants no one touched.

When I returned the original files to their proper places, my hands were steady. My wolf flickered once, faint approval in the gray fog, then faded again.

I walked back to my quarters as the sun rose. No one saw me. No one stopped me.

I was still invisible.

The pack welfare meeting was held in the council room three days later. Mandatory attendance for ranked wolves. I arrived early and took my usual seat at the table—Luna's chair, to Archer's right.

He didn't look at me when I sat down. Just nodded slightly, the way he might acknowledge any pack member fulfilling a procedural obligation.

The agenda was routine. Territory patrols. Harvest logistics. Omega section staffing. I waited through the first three items, then raised my hand when the healer's report concluded.

Archer's eyes flicked to me briefly. "Luna?"

"I'd like to propose an increase in the Omega section's healing wing rations," I said. My voice was calm. Professional. "Current allocations are below the minimum recommended standard. Several Omegas are showing signs of nutritional deficiency. It's affecting their ability to perform assigned duties."

I had documentation. I slid a single-page summary across the table. Iris, the healer, had helped me compile it. The numbers were clear.

Archer picked up the page. He didn't read it. Just held it for a moment, then set it down with careful precision.

"Resource allocation is constrained," he said. His tone was measured. Final. "We need to prioritize critical needs. Omega rations are sufficient for basic function."

"They're not," I said quietly. "The data shows—"

"The decision is made." He straightened the stack of papers in front of him. The same ritual I had seen him perform a dozen times. The physical signal that this conversation was over before it began.

Across the table, Gareth Cole kept his eyes on his own documents. His pen moved across the page, taking notes that didn't need to be taken.

No one else spoke.

I sat back in my chair. "Understood," I said.

The meeting continued. I stayed silent for the remaining items. When it ended, I filed out with the others. Archer left first, already in conversation with his Beta about something unrelated.

That evening, I added the ruling to my ledger. Date. Proposal. Denial. Justification given. Actual reason: none that served the pack's welfare.

The evidence was growing. Piece by piece. Denial by denial.

I was building something. I just didn't know yet if it would be enough.

Elaine came to the healing wing again four nights later.

She arrived after the evening meal, when the corridors were dim and most of the pack had retreated to their quarters. I was sitting with Maisy in the Omega section, helping her practice reading from a children's book someone had donated. The pup was curled against my side, sounding out words with fierce concentration.

I heard Elaine's footsteps before I saw her. Slower than usual. More careful.

She appeared in the doorway empty-handed. No basket. No tea. No folded blanket.

That was the first sign.

She smiled when she saw us, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She lowered herself onto the floor beside me with visible effort, one hand bracing against the wall.

Maisy looked up from her book. "Luna Elaine," she said shyly.

"Hello, Maisy," Elaine said. She used the pup's name without hesitation, the way she always did. "That's a good book. One of my favorites when I was your age."

Maisy beamed and went back to reading.

Elaine and I sat in silence for a long moment. I could feel the tremor in her hands now even without looking. Her wolf aura flickered at the edges, there and not there, like a candle in a draft.

"Aspen," she said quietly.

I turned to face her.

Her eyes were clear. Calm. The same deliberate composure I had seen the first time she visited. But beneath it, I saw something else now. Something I recognized because I had seen it in my own reflection.

Fear.

"I've always thought you were the strongest Luna Silverfang has ever had," she said.

The words hung between us. Not a compliment. A statement. Delivered with the weight of something that needed to be said now, before the chance was gone.

"You've carried more than anyone should have to carry," she continued. "And you've done it with grace. With dignity. I want you to know that."

My throat tightened. "Elaine—"

"I mean it," she said firmly. She reached over and squeezed my hand once. Her fingers were cold. "Don't forget that. No matter what happens."

She stayed for another twenty minutes, talking to Maisy about the book, asking gentle questions that made the pup glow with pride. When she finally rose to leave, she moved slowly, one hand pressed briefly against the wall for balance.

I watched her walk down the corridor. She paused at the corner, just for a moment, her palm flat against the wall. Then she rounded the corner and disappeared.

Maisy tugged on my sleeve. "Is Luna Elaine okay?"

I looked down at the pup's worried face. "I don't know," I said honestly.

That night, I lay in bed and reached for my wolf. She flickered back, faint and distant, like an echo of an echo.

"Willow?" I whispered.

Silence.

Through the mate bond, I felt Archer. Content. Warm. His mind-link flowing toward someone who wasn't me.

I turned onto my side and stared at the wall until morning came.