The Alpha Begged me not to Choose Someone Else

Lily’s POV

I’d spent the night in a small lodge at the edge of pack lands—just me, my thoughts, and the biting winter air. I wanted distance from him—my mate—and the wound in my soul. But distance didn’t heal what was broken. It only reminded me how deeply I’d shattered.

Returning home that morning, I clasped my belly protectively. My steps faltered at the door, because something in the scent had changed. The air held a soft perfume I recognized all too well: clean lilac mixed with Abigail’s artificial rosewater. It wound through the hallway, sliding into my lungs like ash.

My wolf growled low.

On trembling paws, I headed upstairs and froze in the hallway. Voices echoed behind my door—three of the pack’s healers and two nurses were murmuring to Abigail. What was my room doing filled with her?

My heart pounded in my ears. Every memory tied to that room—every poem written by firelight, every lazy afternoon in the reading nook, every hopeful vision of the future painted in soft pastels—felt tainted.

I pressed my palm to my lips to steady my breathing, calmed my wolf, and opened the door.

Inside, it was theirs now.

Abigail lay in my bed, tucked under the very sheets I chose. She smiled up at the healers, her fingers running over the edge of my blanket. My vanity, once covered in my perfume, was replaced with her hairbrushes and lotions. Her framed photos sat where my crystals and Luna journal used to be.

Fury exploded from my gut like fire. I stormed forward and hauled her upright.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I snarled.

Before the words left my mouth, two strong arms wrapped around me and yanked me backward.

“Ah!” Abigail screamed. “Alpha, help!”

And just like literal magic, the Alpha came running to rescue her. “Lily! Enough!” Hudson’s voice cracked. He pulled me into the hallway, his body firm but cold. “Stop acting like a lunatic.”

I pulled away, tears blurring my vision. “This is my room! Mine! You—”

“Enough,” he repeated, harshly. He held up a hand, steeling his voice. “Abigail likes it. I offered it to her. Choose another room.”

“What about the healers?” I pointed inside, my voice trembling. “These are doctors I requested for me. I’m sick, Hudson. Terminally—“

He cut me off, his tone stinging. “You caused all this. You pushed Abigail and she got hurt! She needed help—so I brought in the healers. Damn it! If you keep on questioning my decisions like this, then maybe this mateship was a mistake. So fucking disappointing, you won’t even listen to your own mate.”

I felt blood drain from my veins.

“You can’t be serious,” I whispered. My wolf trembled in my chest.

His eyes were stone. “You won’t apologize, won’t do what I ask. Then maybe it’s time you left. Go raise your pup somewhere else.”

He was willing to kick me—his Luna—out of our home?

I sank to my knees, clutching my swollen belly, tears hot and raw. I didn’t have the words anymore.

I didn’t even try to stand.

The room spun as I made my way to the door over unsteady legs.

Later that night, I lay in the guestroom mattress Hudson insisted I use. I wasn’t angry anymore—not at him, not at Abigail. Just… empty. Weary. My skin itched from rigors of sickness. My joints throbbed. My wolf rested beside me, protective and near-silent, little paw pressed against my hand.

My phone buzzed with messages. I was too exhausted to ignore them.

At first, it was just one from Abigail.

I opened it. Her voice, soft and sweet, [Hudson brought the cutier postcards to show the pup. Isn’t he just the best father?]

My heart cracked a little more.

Another message.

[Abi, I hope you’re resting well. I know how stressful this must be for you. I’m sorry if Lily acted out again. I already scolded her.] It seemed like Hudson wasn’t even aware he was being recorded while showering Abigail with those words.

Then a third.

I hesitated before pressing play.

Hudson’s voice came through, warm and doting. [Don’t worry, love. I brought you chamomile tea. Our baby is doing great. You’re glowing.]

My hands trembled so hard, my nails dug into my palms.

My Luna chamber in the other wing. The shared study. The big bed. They’d all been whispers of us. But his voice—his soft confessions—were rehearsals. Abigail got the full performance in private.

I pressed the phone against my ear. My body shook until I laughed—not from humor, but from the pain so sharp it was absurd. My wolf whimpered inside me, and I hugged my bump tighter.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s just you and me now.”

A gentle kick answered.

“I promise you’ll be safe.”

I didn’t cry again. I didn’t cry for him. Or for the woman he chose over me.

I exhaled and closed my eyes.

Freedom would come soon.

But for now… I had my pup and my illness. And a heart that still caught its breath despite getting broken.