When My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over My Omega Son

I brushed Buster's hair slowly, my fingers working through the tangles with the kind of patience I never seemed to have for anything else. He sat cross-legged on the floor of my quarters, chattering about the Summit ceremonies tomorrow—how the Alphas would arrive in their formal dress, how the Luna candidates would stand on the ceremonial stage, how maybe, just maybe, he'd get to see the Lycan Prince everyone whispered about.

"Do you think Prince Camden is really as tall as they say?" Buster twisted around to look up at me, his eyes bright with the kind of excitement only a child could sustain about something as dull as pack politics.

I smiled despite myself. "Probably taller. Lycans always are."

"Will you stand on the stage too? With Alpha Ethan?"

My hands stilled for a fraction of a second. "I don't know, sweetheart."

The truth was simpler and uglier: Ethan hadn't told me anything about tomorrow's arrangements. He'd stopped including me in Summit planning weeks ago. Daniella's name appeared on every agenda where mine used to be.

Through the pack bond—that thin, fraying thread that connected me to every wolf in Silverfang—I felt a cold pulse of hostility from Ethan's wing of the pack house. It was layered with Daniella's scent, that cloying vanilla she wore too heavily, and underneath it something sharper. Purposeful. The quality was different tonight. It wasn't the usual contempt directed at me. This felt aimed at something I loved.

I touched Buster's shoulder. "Go wash up for bed."

"But Emma—"

"Now, Buster."

He heard the edge in my voice and scrambled up without argument. The bathroom door clicked shut. I stood in the center of my quarters and tried to identify what I was sensing through the bond. Ethan's aura was spiking—not anger, exactly. Determination. The kind that preceded something irreversible.

I was reaching for my jacket when the door slammed open.

Ethan filled the doorway, his wolf just beneath the surface, eyes flashing amber. Two warriors flanked him—Marcus and another I didn't recognize. Nash stood behind them, his face carefully blank.

"Where is he?" Ethan's voice carried Alpha tone, not directed at me yet but present enough to make my wolf flatten instinctively.

I stepped between him and the bathroom. "Where is who?"

"The stray." Ethan's lip curled. "Buster. I want him out of this pack house. Tonight."

My heart kicked against my ribs. "He's a child. He lives here."

"He's an Omega with no bloodline and no purpose, taking up space in my house when Daniella needs every detail perfect for tomorrow's presentation." Ethan moved forward. "Get him out here. Now."

I didn't move. "No."

The Alpha tone hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled before I could stop them. Ethan's command rolled through the pack bond, absolute and paralyzing: "Buster. Come here."

The bathroom door opened. Buster emerged, his face pale, his small body already responding to the Alpha command he couldn't resist. He walked toward Ethan with the mechanical obedience of a wolf whose will had been overridden.

"Ethan, don't—" I tried to stand, but the Alpha tone still pinned me.

Ethan grabbed Buster by the collar and dragged him toward the door. "No worthless stray exists in my pack house when my Luna must be presented perfectly."

"I'm your Luna," I said, my voice hoarse.

Ethan looked at me with something close to pity. "Not for much longer."

He hauled Buster into the hallway. I heard the boy cry out—a high, terrified sound—and then the sickening crack of bone meeting stone. My wolf surged, breaking through the Alpha tone's hold through pure maternal fury. I lunged for the door.

Nash caught my arm. For a fraction of a second, our eyes met. His expression carried the weight of a man who had endured one thing too many. But he didn't let go.

"Don't," he said quietly. "You'll only make it worse."

I wrenched free and ran.

The healer's den smelled like blood and antiseptic. Sienna knelt beside the low cot where Buster lay, her hands hovering uselessly over his small, broken body. She looked up when I entered, and the guilt in her face told me everything.

"He ordered me not to treat him," she whispered. "Alpha tone. I can't—I can't disobey."

I dropped to my knees beside Buster. His breathing was shallow, rattling. There was blood at the corner of his mouth. I took his hand. It was so small. How had I never noticed how small his hands were?

"Emma?" His voice was barely audible.

I pressed my forehead to his. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here."

"Did I do something wrong?"

My throat closed. "No. You didn't do anything wrong."

His fingers tightened on my sleeve. "Don't be sad."

I felt the exact moment his heartbeat stopped. It was like a star going out—sudden, absolute, leaving only cold.

My wolf howled. The sound tore through the pack bond, through Silverfang territory, a grief so total that every wolf within range lifted its head. I heard answering howls in the distance, confused and mournful.

I pulled Buster's worn collar from his neck and pressed it into my jacket pocket. My hands were steady. That steadiness frightened me more than anything else.

Something in me did not break.

It hardened.

Footsteps behind me. I didn't turn.

"An Omega's life means nothing compared to Daniella's moment at the Summit." Ethan's voice held no remorse. "You're barred from attending tomorrow. Daniella will stand beside me as my chosen mate. That's final."

I stood slowly. When I looked at him, I saw a stranger. How had I ever believed this man was my mate?

"You're right," I said quietly. "An Omega's life means nothing to you. But it meant everything to me."

I walked past him without waiting for a response. Nash stood in the doorway, his face unreadable. Our eyes met briefly. He looked away first.

I went back to my quarters, locked the door, and sat in the dark with Buster's collar in my hands.

I had endured Ethan's theft of my credit. His affair. His erasure of everything I built. I had endured it because I believed the mate bond was sacred, because I believed in pack, because I believed my silence protected something worth protecting.

I had been wrong.

I pulled out my phone and typed a single message to a contact I'd saved months ago, never thinking I'd use it: *I need to meet. Urgently.*

The reply came within seconds: *Blackmoor estate. One hour. Come alone.*

I touched Buster's collar one more time. Then I stood, grabbed my jacket, and walked out of the Silverfang pack house for what I knew, with absolute certainty, would be the last time as Ethan's Luna.