My Alpha Mate Chose His Mistress Over Our Baby

Two weeks after I found the bracelet, the Pack Harvest Gathering arrived.

It was Ironvale's most sacred tradition. Every ranked wolf and their family gathered at the pack house on Thanksgiving Eve. We roasted meat over open fires in the courtyard. We set long tables with mismatched chairs borrowed from half the pack. Pups ran wild between the adults' legs. Omegas worked alongside Deltas. For one night, the hierarchy softened into something that felt like family.

I'd been looking forward to it. I needed it. The normalcy. The warmth. The feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything could still be okay.

Three days before the Gathering, Connor came into the bedroom while I was folding linens.

"Emergency Alpha summit," he said. He didn't sit. He stood near the door, one hand on the frame. "Three states over. I have to leave Thursday afternoon."

I looked up slowly. "Thursday is the Gathering."

"I know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's unavoidable. Regional security issue. All Alphas within a five-hundred-mile radius were summoned."

I set the linens down. "You'll miss the feast."

"I'll be back by Friday morning." He crossed the room and kissed my forehead. Quick. Dry. He didn't meet my eyes. "You can handle it, Gemma. You're better at this stuff than I am anyway."

He left before I could answer.

I stood there, one hand on my belly, feeling the pup shift beneath my ribs.

My wolf growled softly. Not loud. Just a low, uneasy sound.

*He's lying,* she whispered.

I didn't argue with her.

***

Thursday afternoon, Connor carried a single overnight bag to his truck. I watched from the pack house steps. He threw the bag into the passenger seat, then turned and waved.

"I'll call when I get there," he said.

I nodded.

He drove away. I watched until the truck disappeared past the tree line.

My wolf pressed hard against the inside of my ribs. Urgent. Restless.

*Something's wrong.*

I pressed my hand to my chest and took a slow breath.

Then I turned and walked back inside. There was work to do.

***

Without Connor, I assumed full Luna authority over the Gathering preparations.

I directed the Omegas through the feast setup. I assigned Deltas to manage the fire pits. I coordinated the she-wolves setting tables in the courtyard. I moved through the pack house with calm efficiency, the kind I'd learned from my father — Lycan King Emory didn't raise a daughter who panicked under pressure.

The pack members responded to me the way they always had. With deference. With respect. They called me Luna without hesitation. They asked my opinion and followed my direction.

For a few hours, the grief receded.

I stood in the courtyard as the sun set, watching pups chase each other between the tables. The smell of roasting meat filled the air. Laughter echoed off the pack house walls. One of the younger she-wolves brought me a plate of food and insisted I sit down.

I smiled. I thanked her. I sat.

And for just a moment, I let myself believe this was enough.

***

At seven o'clock, I was in the kitchen checking on the side dishes when I heard the crash.

Loud. Sudden. The sound of dishes scattering across tile.

I turned.

Levi — Connor's father, former Beta of the pack — was on the floor. He'd collapsed against the counter, one hand clutching his chest, his face gray and twisted in pain.

The room erupted.

She-wolves screamed. Deltas rushed forward. Someone shouted for the healer.

I moved without thinking.

I dropped to my knees beside Levi, pressing two fingers to his neck. His pulse was erratic. Too fast. Too weak. His skin was cold and clammy. His breathing came in short, desperate gasps.

"Heart attack," I said. My voice cut through the chaos. Clear. Steady. "We need to get him to the human hospital. Now."

One of the Deltas hesitated. "Shouldn't we wait for the healer?"

"No time." I looked up at him. "You and Marcus — help me get him to my car. Dana, call the hospital. Tell them we're coming. Tell them it's a cardiac emergency."

I didn't wait for them to agree. I stood, bracing Levi's weight as the two Deltas moved in to support him. We half-carried, half-dragged him through the pack house and out to the driveway.

My car was parked near the front. We laid Levi across the back seat. He groaned. His eyes rolled back.

"Stay with me," I said. I pressed my hand to his shoulder. "Stay with me, Levi."

I climbed into the driver's seat. My hands shook as I started the engine.

Then I reached for my phone.

I didn't call Connor. I reached through the mind-link instead.

*Connor. Your father collapsed. Heart attack. I'm taking him to the hospital. Answer me.*

Nothing.

I tried again.

*Connor. Please. I need you.*

Still nothing.

The connection wasn't distant. It wasn't weak.

It was severed.

Deliberately.

I felt it like a door slammed in my face. Like a wall dropped between us. He'd cut the link. He'd silenced it. He didn't want to be reached.

My wolf howled.

I gripped the steering wheel and drove.