My Alpha Left Me Bleeding to Protect His Mistress

The Moon Festival had always been my favorite celebration—a time when the pack came together under the full moon's blessing. Tonight, though, as I adjusted the silver circlet on my head, I felt hollow. The image of Scott kneeling in the mud for Rebecca played on repeat in my mind.

"Are you ready, Luna?" Elena, one of our senior Deltas, asked as she approached.

I straightened my shoulders. "Yes. Let's review the security positions one more time."

The festival grounds glowed with hundreds of lanterns, pack members dancing and laughing. Scott stood at the center, commanding attention as always. Rebecca hovered nearby, her lavender dress flowing around her like smoke.

Then the alarms blared.

"Rogues! East perimeter breached!" Someone shouted.

Chaos erupted. Screams pierced the night as wolves shifted frantically. Parents grabbed their pups, elders scattered toward the safe houses.

"Delta unit, form up!" I called, my voice cutting through the panic. "Protect the civilians!"

My tactical training kicked in as I directed our warriors. "Elena, take your team north. Marcus, secure the west exit. The rest of you, defensive formation around the central grounds."

Scott was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Rebecca.

A massive rogue—at least seven feet tall in human form—smashed through our line. His eyes glowed with feral hunger as he charged toward the group of civilians where I had taken shelter with several pups and their mothers.

"Stay down!" I ordered, preparing to shift.

Then Scott appeared, his Alpha aura radiating power. Relief flooded through me—until I realized his gaze was fixed solely on Rebecca, who cowered behind me.

"Scott!" I cried. "The rogue—"

He didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he threw a protective barrier around Rebecca and tackled her attacker to the ground.

But I was exposed.

A second rogue emerged from the shadows, claws extended. I tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go with civilians behind me.

Pain seared across my ribs as his claws tore through my flesh. I heard someone scream—maybe it was me—as I fell backward into the grass.

Blood pooled beneath me, warm and sticky against the cool earth. Through blurring vision, I watched Scott pin Rebecca's attacker, his movements precise and desperate.

"Rebecca!" he shouted. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm okay. Just shaken."

Scott pulled her into his arms, checking her for injuries with trembling hands. "Thank the Moon Goddess."

Not once did he turn to look at me.

"Alpha," someone called. "Luna Vivian is down!"

But Scott's back remained turned as he cradled Rebecca's face in his hands. "You could have been killed," he whispered to her.

Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. My wolf howled in agony—not from the physical wound, but from the realization that our mate had chosen another.

---

I woke to sterile white walls and the faint scent of healing herbs. The Healer's ward. How long had I been here?

"Easy now," Healer Morris said as she checked my bandages. "The wound was deep."

"Why isn't it healing faster?" I asked, my voice raspy.

She hesitated. "Your mate bond... it's weakened significantly. That affects your healing abilities."

I closed my eyes, remembering Scott's choice. "Of course it has."

The door opened, and Beta Connor entered, his expression troubled. "Luna. I'm glad you're awake."

"Where's Scott?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Connor shifted uncomfortably. "He's... handling some matters."

"Is he with her?"

"Luna, please understand. The Alpha was confused in the heat of battle. He thought—"

"That she needed protection more than I did?" My voice broke. "That his Luna could fend for herself?"

Connor looked away. "The bond—you can't feel him anymore, can you?"

I tested the connection that had always pulsed between us. For seven years, I'd felt Scott's emotions—his pride, his anger, even his lies disguised as love.

Now there was nothing but silence.

"My wolf has gone quiet," I whispered. "To protect us both."

---

My phone buzzed on the bedside table. With trembling fingers, I reached for it.

A text from Rebecca: "Hope you're feeling better soon!"

Attached was a photo that shattered whatever remnants of hope I'd been clinging to.

Scott sat slumped in a chair beside Rebecca's bed in the guest quarters. His head rested against her shoulder as he slept, one hand still wrapped around hers. She looked peaceful, unharmed—while I lay in the hospital with claw marks across my ribs.

"He hasn't left my side since the attack," her message continued. "So worried I might have internal injuries. Isn't he sweet?"

I stared at the screen until it went dark, then at my reflection in the black glass. The woman looking back at me was a stranger—pale, wounded, but somehow stronger.

Seven years I had given him. Seven years of devotion, sacrifice, and love.

And I had never been his priority at all.