My Dearest Mate, How Dare You Cheat On Me?

Deacon didn’t come home that night. Instead, he texted me like the mate I thought he was.

[Hey Annette, work's holding me back. I'll be crashing at the pack mansion tonight. It’s getting cold and rainy, so don’t forget to close the window before bed. Love you always, your husband.]

I stared at the message without a single flicker of emotion. In the past, I would’ve worried and responded like the caring wife I was, maybe even stayed up late waiting for him. Now, I didn’t even feel the need to reply. I’d once thought I was the happiest woman in the world because I had the best mate, but reality had a brutal way of setting in. All that love I thought we had—it had just been a ridiculous facade—An illusion I chose to believe because I got too complacent and put my faith in our imprint.

A few days later, the imprinting dissolution papers arrived from my lawyer. I printed and signed them without a second thought, and started packing to move back to my mom’s place. Since he didn't like coming home to me, he'd return to an empty house.

Just as I was sealing the last box, my phone rang, displaying an unknown number.

It was Tara.

The demoness asked me out, and we met at a diner in the neutral zone. She arrived with airy confidence, parading a four-inch stilettos while carrying heavy shopping bags, and plopped across from me with a smug smile, her supposedly three-month-long baby bump pressing against the table with no concern.

She seemed to believe she had won—as if I'd let her get one up on me.

Her overwhelming perfume though, I think I'd faint If I breathed in it for too long.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she began, her voice thick with triumph. “After all, you never replied to my messages.”

I stayed calm, my heart steady. “Why wouldn’t I come? I haven’t done anything shameful to hide from,” I replied, leaning back with a small smile. “Unlike some people who, no matter how hard they try, will always be the third wheel.”

“You—!” Her face darkened, but I cut her off before she could say more.

“Oh, thanks, by the way,” I said smoothly. “For sending all that evidence of your little affair with Deacon. Made collecting it a lot easier than doing it on my own."

She glared, her fingers clutching the edge of the table. "This coffee's on me. So, don't bother me again." I placed some cash under my coffee cup and stood up.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her voice laced with tension, grabbing my arm as I turned to leave.

“Are you that slow?" I gently freed myself. "It means I don’t want him anymore. If you want him, he’s all yours.”

Her face twisted with anger. “What game are you playing now? Don’t think I’m falling for this act!”

“What part of he’s all yours can’t you understand? Why are you obsessed with winning over me, do you have a weird kink?” I mocked, which I shouldn’t have done.

Tara shoved me in a burst of anger. I lost my footing and stumbled backward, hitting the floor hard. Suddenly, a sharp, unbearable pain sliced through my hip encircling my belly. My body convulsed, and I felt something wet and warm pouring down my legs. Blood.

Panic took over, and I screamed, “Please, save my baby!”

In my shock and pain, I barely noticed Tara fleeing. The diner staff rushed over, and one of them called an ambulance. By the time the paramedics arrived, my dress was drenched in blood. They loaded me onto the stretcher, and as I began slipping in and out of consciousness, a nurse asked for my phone password. I unlocked it and watched as she dialed my husband's emergency contact.

She called six times before he finally picked up.

I could barely make out his words through the fog of pain and the steady beep of hospital machines. “Annette, I have a lot pack-business to deal with,” he said sharply, his voice irritated. “We’re having an important meeting. I’ll call you back later, okay? Be good.”

The line went dead, but I heard Tara’s voice in the background, clear as day. She sure got to him so fast. I miserably laughed at myself.

Turning away from the nurse’s pitying gaze, I took my phone from her with a trembling hand and dialed my mom. I knew I had to sound calm, but it was tough the second I heard her voice.

“Mom,” I said, forcing the words out. “I… I’m going into labor.”

“What?” She was alarmed, sensing all she had to know through my silence, and she quickly calmed her voice. “Don’t worry, honey. Just breathe okay? Mom will come to you, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be fine,” I whispered, trying to assure both of us.

Then, a powerful contraction hit me like a lance, and I couldn’t hold back my scream. I broke out in cold sweat, trembling as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

With what little strength I had left, I gripped the doctor’s hand, my voice a desperate whisper. “Please, save my baby.”

Everything else in the world faded to nothing.

I couldn’t lose my child. Not now. Not again.