My Alpha Mate Chose His Mistress Over Our Baby

The emergency room waiting area smelled like disinfectant and burnt coffee.

I sat in a plastic chair near the vending machines, my pregnant belly pressing against my folded hands. The chair was hard. My back ached. I didn't move.

Levi was behind the triage doors. They'd taken him straight back when we arrived. A nurse had come out twenty minutes later to tell me they were stabilizing him. That was three hours ago.

I'd tried Connor's phone twelve times.

The first four went straight to voicemail. His voice, smooth and confident, told me to leave a message. I hung up.

The next eight did the same thing. Straight to voicemail. No ring. Just that immediate click into his recorded greeting.

I stopped trying after twelve.

I sat with my phone in my lap, staring at the double doors, and I understood.

He wasn't at an Alpha summit.

He was at a concert. In Boston. With Maisy.

And he'd turned his phone off on purpose.

The mate bond told me. Not in words. In the sickening emptiness where his presence should have been. In the way the mind-link felt like a door slammed in my face. In the phantom ache that spread through my chest like something vital had been cut away.

He didn't want to be reached.

Not by me. Not tonight.

I pressed my hand to my belly. The pup kicked. A sharp, insistent jab beneath my ribs.

I didn't cry.

Around me, human families clustered in their own quiet emergencies. A mother held a feverish toddler. An elderly man slept with his head tipped back against the wall. A young couple sat close together, whispering.

None of them looked at me.

A nurse stopped by my chair. She was middle-aged, with kind eyes and tired lines around her mouth.

"Honey, can I get you some water?"

I nodded.

She brought me a paper cup. I drank it. The water was cold and tasteless. I finished it and set the cup on the floor beside my chair.

"Thank you," I said.

She squeezed my shoulder and moved on.

I sat.

The hours crawled.

At some point, I called Marcus, one of the Deltas who'd helped me carry Levi to the car. I told him to reach out to the neighboring pack's Beta. To see if anyone there had contact information for the Alpha summit Connor was supposedly attending.

Marcus called back forty minutes later.

"Luna," he said quietly. "There's no summit. I checked with three packs. No one's heard of any regional security meeting."

I closed my eyes. "Thank you, Marcus."

"Do you want me to keep trying to reach him?"

"No." My voice was steady. "But see if you can get word to him through someone else. Tell him his father is in the hospital. Tell him it's serious."

Marcus hesitated. "Luna... are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Just find him."

I hung up.

I sat with my hands folded over my belly and stared at the double doors.

My wolf whined. A low, distressed sound that only I could hear.

*He left us,* she whispered. *He left us alone.*

I didn't answer her.

Because she was right.

***

At four in the morning, my phone buzzed.

Marcus. A text.

*Got through to him. Third-party contact. He's on his way.*

I stared at the screen.

On his way.

Five hours after his father collapsed. Six hours after I'd tried to reach him through the mind-link. Seven hours after I'd started calling his phone.

I set the phone down.

A doctor came through the double doors. He was young, with scrubs that looked too big on him and a clipboard tucked under one arm.

"Family of Levi Voss?"

I stood. My legs were stiff. My back screamed in protest.

"I'm his daughter-in-law," I said.

The doctor nodded. "He's stable. We've got him on medication to regulate his heart rhythm. He'll need to stay for observation, probably seventy-two hours, but the immediate danger has passed."

I exhaled slowly. "Can I see him?"

"Not yet. He's resting. We'll let you know when he's ready for visitors."

"Thank you."

The doctor left.

I sat back down.

Stable. Levi was stable.

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the place where the mate bond used to sit warm and whole.

Now it felt like broken glass.

***

Connor walked through the sliding doors at nine in the morning.

I saw him before he saw me.

He moved slowly. Not with urgency. Not with the frantic energy of a man whose father nearly died. He walked like someone who'd been woken up too early and was annoyed about it.

His jacket was wrinkled. His hair was messy. And the smell hit me from ten feet away.

Honeysuckle. Thick and cloying. Layered with cheap beer and the stale, crowded scent of a concert venue.

He scanned the waiting area. His eyes landed on me.

He crossed the room.

"Why did you blow up my phone like that?" he said.

Not *How's my father.* Not *Are you okay.* Not *I'm sorry I wasn't here.*

Just that.

I stood slowly. My hands rested on my belly.

"Your father had a heart attack," I said quietly. "Last night. During the Gathering. I brought him here. Alone."

Connor's jaw tightened. "Is he okay?"

"He's stable."

He nodded once. Like a report had been filed. Like a box had been checked.

Then he looked at me. Really looked at me. And I saw it.

Not guilt. Not remorse.

Irritation.

"You didn't need to call me twelve times, Gemma."

I stared at him.

"I tried the mind-link first," I said. "You severed it."

"I was in a meeting."

"You weren't at a summit." My voice stayed low. Controlled. "There was no summit, Connor. I checked."

His face went still.

"You were at a concert," I continued. "In Boston. With Maisy."

The silence between us felt like a chasm.

"Let's not do this here," he said.

"Do what?"

"This." He gestured vaguely. "You're upset. You're exhausted. You've been up all night. Let's go home and—"

"I sat here for six hours," I said. My voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. "Alone. Pregnant. Waiting to hear if your father was going to die. And you were at a concert. With her."

Connor's expression shifted. Not into shame. Into something harder.

"You're making a scene," he said quietly. "In a human hospital."

"You made yourself unreachable," I said. "On purpose. You turned off your phone. You severed the mind-link. You left me alone."

"I needed one night," he snapped. "One night where I wasn't dealing with pack drama or your—"

He stopped.

But I heard it anyway.

*Your hormones. Your paranoia. Your constant suspicion.*

I took a step toward him.

"Say it," I said softly. "Finish the sentence."

He didn't.

He shoved me instead.

Both hands. Hard. Against my shoulders.

I stumbled backward. My hip caught the edge of the steel medical cart beside me. The metal slammed into my side. Into my abdomen.

The pain was immediate.

Catastrophic.

I doubled over, gasping, one hand pressed to my belly.

The mate bond didn't crack.

It shattered.

I felt it splinter through every nerve in my body. A fracture so deep it felt like my ribs were breaking from the inside out.

My wolf screamed.

Not a howl. A scream.

I couldn't breathe.

Voices erupted around me. Footsteps. Hands on my shoulders.

Someone was shouting.

I looked up.

Connor stood frozen. Staring at me. At his hands. At what he'd just done.

His face registered something I'd never seen before.

Not remorse.

Horror.

Not at what he'd done to me.

At what it was going to cost him.