My Alpha Saved His Mistress Instead of Me

The pack run had been Marcelo's idea.

He'd announced it three days prior at the weekly council meeting, his Alpha tone leaving no room for debate. A show of unity, he'd called it. A reminder that the Black Moon Pack moved as one body, one purpose. I'd watched him from my seat at the far end of the table—the Luna's chair, though I'd stopped feeling like a Luna months ago—and said nothing. Petra Voss had nodded approvingly. The other council members had murmured their agreement. Rosalina, seated closer to Marcelo than protocol allowed, had smiled that soft, adoring smile she always wore around him.

I should have known then.

The territory's northern river was swollen from early spring melt, the current fast and mean. We ran in our wolf forms along the muddy banks, the pack spreading out in loose formation. I kept to the middle—not leading, not trailing. Invisible, the way I'd learned to be. My wolf was quiet inside me, her presence dimmed after five years of a bond that only ever pulled one direction.

Then the ground gave way.

It happened so fast. A deep, wet crack, and suddenly the riverbank was collapsing beneath us in a roaring slide of mud and stone. Wolves scattered, yelping. I tried to leap clear, but the earth tilted and I was falling, my wolf form twisting uselessly in the air before the river swallowed me whole.

The cold was immediate and absolute. The current seized me, dragging me under, and I surfaced choking just long enough to see Rosalina thrashing ten feet downstream, her pregnant belly making her movements clumsy and panicked. Then I went under again.

When I clawed back to the surface, Marcelo was there.

He'd shifted mid-dive, his human form cutting through the water with the powerful strokes of an Alpha who'd trained for this. He had a life ring—bright orange, standard pack emergency gear—clutched in one hand. Our eyes met across the churning distance.

I saw the moment he made his choice.

He didn't hesitate. Didn't even slow. He swam past me—close enough that I could have reached for him, close enough that he had to angle his body to avoid me—and threw the ring to Rosalina.

"Hold on!" he shouted to her, his voice raw with urgency I hadn't heard directed at me in years.

I didn't beg. Didn't call his name. My lungs were burning, my limbs going numb, but I would drown before I gave him the satisfaction of hearing me plead.

The current pulled me down again, and this time I didn't fight it.

The darkness was surprisingly gentle. The roar of the river faded into something distant and soft, and I felt my wolf—my poor, tired wolf—curl up inside me like she was finally allowed to rest. I should have been afraid. I should have been raging. But all I felt was a strange, cold clarity.

Five years. I had given him five years.

Then the darkness shifted, and I wasn't in the river anymore.

I was standing in a place that had no edges, no up or down—just endless silver light that didn't hurt to look at. And she was there.

The Moon Goddess.

She didn't look the way the old stories described. No flowing robes, no crown of stars. She looked like a woman, ageless and exhausted, with eyes that had seen too many bonds break and too many wolves suffer for love that was never returned.

"Alaya Mills," she said, and her voice was everywhere and nowhere. "You were not meant to drown unloved."

I should have been awed. Terrified. Something. But I was so tired.

"Then why did you give me to him?" My voice came out flat, drained of everything but the question I'd carried for five years.

"I gave you a bond. What he made of it was his choice." She stepped closer, and I realized she was sad. "You deserved better. You deserved to be chosen."

"I'm dead," I said. It wasn't a question.

"Nearly." She tilted her head. "But I can offer you something. Not life—that thread is cut. But time. Fourteen days. Enough to reclaim what you built. Enough to walk away with your dignity intact."

Fourteen days. Two weeks to undo five years.

"What's the cost?" Because there was always a cost.

"Your wolf will weaken faster. The bond will fray, and it will hurt. And at the end of fourteen days, you will die—no exceptions, no extensions." Her gaze held mine. "But you will die free."

I thought of Marcelo's face as he swam past me. I thought of the rose gardens I'd planted, the formula I'd perfected, the pack I'd bled for. I thought of the girl I used to be, the orphaned wolf who believed being useful was the same as being loved.

"I accept."

The light flared, searing and final, and then I was coughing up river water onto the muddy bank, my human body shaking violently. No one was around. The pack had moved downstream, following Marcelo and Rosalina.

I stood slowly, my legs unsteady. My wolf was still there, but her presence felt different—thinner, like a candle burning too fast. I could feel it: the countdown.

Fourteen days.

I walked back to the pack house alone, my wet clothes clinging to my skin, my hair dripping icy water down my spine. The house was quiet when I entered. I should have found it strange—no search party, no frantic Beta waiting to report my status.

Then I heard them.

Marcelo's voice, low and soothing, coming from the hallway near the study. And Rosalina's soft, grateful murmur in response.

I turned the corner and stopped.

He had her pressed gently against the wall, one hand cradling her face, his mouth on her neck. Marking her. Comforting her. She was wrapped in a blanket, dry and safe, and he was whispering something I couldn't hear.

Neither of them noticed me.

I stood there for three seconds—long enough to memorize the picture, long enough to feel absolutely nothing—and then I walked past them, my wet shoes squelching on the hardwood.

Marcelo's head snapped up. "Alaya—"

I didn't stop. Didn't look back. I walked straight through the house to the garden shed, retrieved the heavy shears I used for pruning, and stepped into the rose garden.

My roses. The Mills Rose variety I'd spent three years perfecting. The backbone of the pack's perfume trade, the reason the Black Moon Pack's economy had doubled under my tenure as Luna.

I raised the shears and cut the first stem.

Then the second. Then the third.

Behind me, I heard Marcelo's footsteps, his voice rising in shock. "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer. I just kept cutting.