The Beta’s Betrayal and the Luna’s Retribution

Curiosity led me to the local fair, where I decided to indulge in a fortune reading. As I handed over a photo of my mate, seeking insight into our future, the fortune teller—an Omega from the local pack—surprised me with an unexpected admonishment.

"You’re clever, yet you’re letting yourself be played like a fiddle," he said, his voice low and tinged with urgency.

Feeling increasingly unsettled, I left the fair and requested surveillance footage from the pack’s Gamma warriors. I planned to confront the fortune teller the next day. To my shock, the footage revealed my mate, Baylor Williamson, Beta of the Williamson Pack, and his assistant, Dakota Rivera, a Delta warrior from the same pack, engrossed in a passionate kiss right at that fortune teller’s booth.

The following day, I approached the fortune teller again, tossing a thick stack of cash in front of him.

"Did you catch any of their conversation?"

His eyes widened at the sight of the money, greed evident in his gaze.

"They talked about you being the heir to the Cruz Pack. He intends to become Alpha of your pack through the mate bond and then reject you for her."

I was staggered. Despite two years with Baylor, my true identity as the future Luna of the Cruz Pack had always been under wraps. Who had let this slip? Being called a fool by an Omega was mortifying. Baylor Williamson, this was a betrayal I was determined to address!

That evening, as I relaxed in Baylor’s modest apartment, enjoying a pasta dish paired with fine wine, he arrived with Dakota trailing behind. Approaching with his usual exuberance, he hugged me tightly, his alpha aura enveloping me like a suffocating blanket.

"My Luna, I’ve missed you so much today," he murmured, his voice dripping with false affection.

I gently pushed him away, smiling. "Let’s take our time; we’re not marked yet."

He finally noticed the fancy spread on the table, swallowing nervously and attempting a lighthearted reproach.

"My Luna, weren’t we supposed to be saving up for the marking ceremony? Why splurge on expensive stuff?"

"The pack handed out bonuses today. Felt like celebrating a little."

Dakota, looking displeased, stepped forward. "My Luna, my Beta has been working hard, leading patrols, all for your future together. He hasn’t even eaten. It’s not fair to celebrate alone."

Baylor had introduced Dakota as his cousin, making it seem natural to employ her as his assistant. She had criticized my spending before, seemingly wanting the best for her Beta and me. Baylor, playing the dutiful mate, always promised happiness with his efforts. I had once thought he was sincere.

In hindsight, the fortune teller was right—I’d been blindly romantic.

With a cool chuckle, I replied, "Would you like some?"

Baylor kissed my forehead, smiling. "My Luna, celebrations are better with company. Dakota hasn’t eaten either, so let’s add a couple more dishes."

I glanced at Dakota, her face flushed, and smirked.

"Sure, but only if you kiss me again."

"My Luna, you’re the sweetest person. I could kiss you forever."

Under Dakota’s burning gaze, he pressed another deliberate kiss on my forehead. Then I excused myself to the bathroom, where I turned the faucet on and scrubbed my forehead vigorously. Memories of happiness from simple gestures seemed distant, replaced by sheer disgust.

Moments later, the doorbell rang, announcing our takeout. Baylor eagerly fetched it, but his face fell as he returned with two bags.

"My Luna, did you order the wrong thing? Wasn’t it supposed to be pasta? Why am I looking at chili cheese fries?"

I chuckled inwardly. You, a Beta of a crumbling pack, deserve nothing but this basic fare.

Feigning innocence, I said, "My mate, didn’t you just mention we should save for the marking ceremony? Opted for something economical. Look, got the cheapest combo for you both."

"Aw, craving pasta? Why not speak up? I’m a bit dense that way. Unless you tell me directly, I won’t realize."

With that, I popped the last of the pasta dish into my mouth, reveling in the taste.

"Mmm, can’t blame you for wanting it. It is exquisite."

Dakota, livid, stomped off to her room. Baylor awkwardly settled with the chili cheese fries, starting to eat.

Draining my glass of wine, I said, "By the way, take tomorrow off. Let’s visit your parents."

If they’ve raised such a thankless child, they might share the blame. I wanted his entire pack to grasp this: while I might tolerate someone fleecing my pack’s resources, deceiving my heart is something I won’t abide.