My Alpha Let His Mistress Kill Our Unborn Child

I stood before the mirror in our—no, his—bedroom, my fingers trembling as I wrapped the silk bandage around my wrist. Not to hide a wound. To hide the tremor that had started three months ago, the physical manifestation of a bond slowly dying from neglect.

The white fabric felt cool against my skin as I tied it with practiced efficiency. Luna Gabriella of the Blood Claw Pack couldn't afford to show weakness. Not tonight. Not at the Annual Moonlight Gala where every visiting Alpha would scrutinize Bruno's mate, searching for cracks in the legendary bond that had once defied the Lycan Council itself.

I reached for the small vial on my vanity—scent blocker, thick and clinical. The label promised twelve hours of complete masking. Twelve hours of being invisible, even to werewolf senses. I uncapped it and applied the gel to my pulse points: wrists, throat, behind my ears. The places where my natural scent would normally bloom.

The places Bruno used to bury his face and breathe me in like I was oxygen itself.

Now he sought that scent in others. Young she-wolves with innocent eyes and naive laughter. Girls who smelled like I used to, before three years of being Luna had stripped away whatever fragile sweetness had captivated the Blood Claw Pack's most feared Alpha.

I watched my reflection blur as the blocker took effect, erasing my presence until I became ghost-like. Fitting. I'd been a ghost in my own mating for months now.

The balcony doors were open, letting in the cool night air and the sounds of the gala beginning below. I should go down. Greet the guests. Smile. Play the role of the devoted Luna standing beside her powerful Alpha.

But first, I allowed myself this moment of weakness. I stepped onto the balcony and looked down at the grand hall's entrance, where luxury cars were pulling up in an endless stream of wealth and power.

And there he was.

Bruno emerged from a black Mercedes, his Alpha aura radiating even from this distance. He wore a tailored black suit that emphasized his predatory grace, his dark hair perfectly styled. He looked every inch the legend—the Alpha who had endured the brutal Gauntlet trial, who had defied the Council, who had transformed himself from monster to mate.

For me. He'd done it all for me.

Then she stepped out behind him.

Kayleigh. Young, bright-eyed Kayleigh with her artless smile and her innocent scent that Bruno claimed reminded him of simpler times. She wore a pale blue dress with delicate embroidery along the bodice, her blonde hair falling in soft waves.

My breath caught. I knew that dress. Not the exact one, but its twin. I'd worn it to our first pack gathering as mates, back when Bruno would pull me close and whisper that I was his salvation, his peace, his everything.

Now that dress adorned his companion while I stood alone on a balcony, wrapped in bandages and scent blockers, trying to disappear.

Kayleigh's hand slipped through Bruno's arm with practiced ease. He didn't pull away. Didn't even seem to notice the impropriety of entering the Blood Claw Pack's most important social event with his mistress on his arm while his Luna watched from above.

I should feel rage. Betrayal. The hot, burning fury of a mate scorned.

But I only felt tired.

So very tired.

I turned from the balcony and smoothed down my own gown—deep burgundy silk that made my skin look pale, almost translucent. Luna colors. Dignified. Mature. Everything I'd become and everything Bruno no longer wanted.

The grand hall glittered with crystal chandeliers and elegant decorations when I finally descended the stairs. Visiting Alphas mingled with their Lunas, Betas discussed territory matters over champagne, and the air thrummed with carefully controlled power.

I moved through the crowd like the ghost I'd made myself, my masked scent making me forgettable even as my title demanded acknowledgment. A few wolves nodded respectfully. Most looked through me, their attention drawn to the vibrant center of the room where Bruno held court, Kayleigh still attached to his side like a pretty accessory.

Alpha Marcus from the Silver Ridge Pack stood near the refreshment table. An older wolf, respected, with kind eyes that had seen too much politics. I approached, forcing my Luna smile into place.

"Alpha Marcus," I greeted, extending my hand. "Welcome to Blood Claw territory. I hope your journey was—"

"Oh, Luna Gabriella!" Kayleigh's voice cut through my words like claws through silk. She appeared at my elbow, her expression the picture of innocent concern. "You look so tired! Are you feeling well?"

The room's attention shifted. Subtle. Predatory. Wolves scenting drama.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," I said evenly, withdrawing my hand from Alpha Marcus's polite grip.

Kayleigh tilted her head, her blonde curls cascading over one shoulder. "It's just... well, you look so much older lately. So worn." Her voice dropped to a stage whisper that carried perfectly across the suddenly quiet space. "I suppose it's hard, being barren. The pack needs heirs, after all. No wonder Alpha Bruno seeks... vitality... elsewhere."

Something inside me snapped.

Not my control. Not my composure. Something deeper. Primal. The dormant instinct of a wolf I'd never had, rising from whatever broken place the Moon Goddess had left empty inside me.

My hand rose. Not to strike. To silence. To command respect the way a Luna should.

But across the room, Bruno's head whipped toward us. His eyes widened. And in that split second, I saw his interpretation: his fragile companion threatened by his aggressive mate.

His Alpha Aura exploded outward like a shockwave.

The room buckled under the pressure. Wolves dropped to their knees. Glasses shattered. And I—weightless, wolfless, powerless—felt the crushing force drive me backward.

Bruno moved with predatory speed, crossing the distance in a blur. His hand lashed out, claws extended, catching my raised wrist.

Pain. Sharp and immediate. The silk bandage bloomed red as his claws sliced through fabric and flesh.

Blood dripped onto the white marble floor. One drop. Two. Three.

The metallic scent should have triggered his wolf. Should have made him realize what he'd done.

But Kayleigh whimpered—a soft, pitiful sound—and Bruno's attention snapped to her instead. He pulled her against his chest, his large hand cradling her head, his scent rolling out in soothing waves meant to calm a distressed mate.

Meant for me. Used for her.

I stood there, blood running down my fingers, surrounded by the elite of the werewolf world, and watched my mate comfort his mistress while I bled alone.

Alpha Marcus's face had gone carefully blank. The visiting Lunas exchanged glances sharp with judgment and pity. Beta Eddie stood frozen near the entrance, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.

And I realized, with crystalline clarity, that I had become the villain in my own love story. The bitter, barren Luna who couldn't keep her Alpha satisfied. The jealous wife who threatened sweet, innocent girls.

The ghost who should have stayed invisible.

My phone buzzed in my clutch. A notification from a mind-link group I'd been added to weeks ago: "Scorned Lunas Support Network."

The latest message read: "Tip #47: Never confront the mistress in public. You'll always lose."

I looked down at my bleeding hand, at the ruined bandage that had hidden nothing after all.

They were right.

I'd already lost everything.