When My Alpha Betrayed Me

The letter arrived on a Tuesday.

I found it in the stack of pack correspondence that Marcus left on my desk each morning—territory reports, Luna Council invitations, requests for appearances at local ceremonies. Standard business. I'd been sorting through them mechanically, my mind half-occupied with the upcoming quarterly budget review, when I saw Audrey's name in the return address.

Not sent to me. Sent to Elijah.

I opened it anyway. Luna privilege. Or maybe just the privilege of a woman who'd stopped asking permission from a mate who no longer saw her.

The letter was brief. Handwritten. Audrey's neat, careful script thanking Elijah for his support during her time of grief, expressing how meaningful his presence had been, and requesting—politely, deferentially—that he and his Luna attend a memorial wake for Hank at the Black Moon pack house the following week. The Patterson family would be traveling from out of territory. It would mean so much to have the Alpha and Luna present to honor Hank's memory.

I set the letter down.

Then I picked it up again and read it twice more, looking for the trap I knew was there but couldn't yet see.

That evening, Elijah told me we were going.

He didn't ask. He informed me over dinner in the formal dining room, his tone matter-of-fact, like he was scheduling a territory inspection. "Audrey's requested our presence at Hank's wake next Saturday. We'll attend."

I set my fork down carefully. "Both of us."

"Yes."

"The wake for the man my father was convicted of killing."

Elijah's jaw tightened. "Hank Patterson was a member of this pack. His family deserves to grieve with their Alpha present."

"And his Luna?"

"You're part of this pack's leadership. Your presence demonstrates unity."

Unity.

I looked at him across the table—at the black-furred wolf who'd once knelt in the rain and begged me to accept his mark, who'd promised he would spend every day proving he deserved the gift the Moon Goddess had given him. That wolf had meant every word.

This one was lying to himself.

"Elijah," I said quietly. "Audrey put my father in prison. The Patterson family blames me for Hank's death. Walking into that room isn't demonstrating unity. It's providing them with a target."

"Then you'll endure it." His voice had gone flat. Final. "The same way I've had to endure the whispers about your father's violence. The same way this pack has had to endure the scandal of a Luna's family committing murder."

The word hung in the air between us.

Murder.

Not manslaughter. Not self-defense. Murder.

I felt something inside me go very still.

"When did you start calling it that?" I asked.

Elijah stood. "We're attending, Sienna. That's not a request."

He left the dining room.

I sat alone at the long table and pressed my fingers against the mark on my neck. The bond pulsed, steady and relentless. My wolf didn't make a sound.

---

The wake was held in the Black Moon pack house great hall.

I'd helped plan events in that room a hundred times—Luna Council gatherings, seasonal celebrations, visiting dignitaries' receptions. I knew every corner, every window, every place the light fell during different hours of the day. I'd chosen the curtains myself.

Tonight, it felt like walking into a room I'd never seen.

The casket was open.

It sat at the far end of the hall on a raised platform, surrounded by white flowers and candles. Hank Patterson's body lay inside, dressed in formal pack attire, his hands folded across his chest. I could see his face from the entrance—pale, composed, carefully prepared.

The room was full. Patterson family members I'd never met filled the chairs near the casket. Pack members I saw every day stood in clusters along the walls. Everyone turned when Elijah and I entered.

The silence was immediate and absolute.

Elijah's hand was at the small of my back, guiding me forward. His Alpha aura rolled through the room in a wave—dominant, commanding, a reminder of exactly who held power here. Conversations that had paused when we entered stayed paused.

Audrey stood near the casket. She wore black again, her hair pulled back, her expression serene. When she saw us, she stepped forward.

"Alpha Crawford. Luna Sienna." Her voice carried across the silent room. "Thank you for coming."

Elijah inclined his head. "Our condolences to your family."

Audrey's eyes moved to me. "It means so much that you're here, Luna. Truly."

The warmth in her tone didn't match the coldness in her gaze.

She gestured toward the casket. "Please. Come pay your respects."

Elijah's hand pressed more firmly against my back, and we walked forward.

I'd been to pack funerals before. I knew the protocol. Approach the casket. Bow your head. Offer a moment of silence. Move on.

I reached the platform and looked down at Hank Patterson's body.

He looked younger in death. Softer. Like someone's son, someone's brother. Not like the wolf who'd torn a girl's shirt and pressed her into the ground while she screamed.

I bowed my head.

Behind me, I heard movement. Footsteps. Then a voice—an older woman's, rough with grief and anger.

"Murderer's daughter."

I didn't turn around.

"Standing here like she has a right. Like her family's blood isn't rotten."

More footsteps. Closer now.

"My nephew is dead because of your father," another voice said. Male. Younger. "And you dare show your face here."

I kept my head bowed. Kept my hands folded. Kept breathing.

Elijah's aura pulsed beside me—not protective, not defensive. Just present. He stood at my side and said nothing.

"Look at her," the first woman spat. "Can't even apologize. Can't even cry."

Someone moved closer. I felt their presence at my shoulder.

"How does it feel, Luna?" The voice was low, contemptuous. "Knowing your father's a killer? Knowing everyone in this room sees you as his accomplice?"

I stayed silent.

The elderly woman's footsteps came closer. I heard her breathing—labored, angry—and then I felt something wet hit my shoe.

She'd spit at my feet.

The room went completely still.

I stood there, looking down at Hank Patterson's carefully composed face, and waited.

Waited for Elijah to speak. To use his Alpha tone. To remind the room that I was his marked mate, his Luna, and that disrespecting me was disrespecting him.

He said nothing.

The bond pulsed under my skin. Steady. Relentless. Meaningless.

I straightened slowly, turned from the casket, and met the eyes of the woman who'd spit at me. She was elderly, her face lined with age and grief, her hands shaking.

I bowed my head to her.

Then I walked back through the silent crowd, past Audrey's carefully neutral expression, past Marcus's stricken face, past every pack member who'd once called me Luna with genuine respect.

Elijah followed.

We reached the entrance. I pushed the door open and stepped into the cold night air.

Behind me, I heard the great hall erupt into noise—voices rising, conversations resuming, grief and anger released now that the Alpha and his disgraced Luna had left.

I walked to the car and got in without waiting for Elijah to open the door.

He slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The silence between us was absolute.

Inside my head, my wolf—who'd been howling since the day Dad was arrested, who'd screamed through the trial and the verdict and every night since—went completely silent.

The absence was worse than the sound.

We drove back to the pack house in darkness. Elijah pulled into the garage. Turned off the engine. Sat there with his hands on the wheel.

"You handled that well," he said finally.

I turned to look at him.

At the mate the Moon Goddess had chosen for me. At the Alpha who'd just stood silent while his own pack spit at his Luna's feet.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

I got out of the car and walked into the house alone.

That night, I didn't go to our bedroom. I went to the Luna's private office, locked the door, and opened the ledger where I'd been documenting Audrey's movements.

I added a new entry:

November 23, 8:47 p.m., Black Moon great hall. Memorial wake. Public humiliation. Mate silent. Patterson aunt spat at Luna's feet. Alpha said nothing. Audrey watched.

Then I pulled out a second document—the one I'd started the night Elijah defended Audrey in his study.

I added three more pages to it.

And I began planning something I'd never imagined I would need: how to survive my own mate.