When My Mate Left Me for the Omega Neighbor

The morning of their departure dawned bright and clear—a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. I stood in the driveway, watching as Malcolm loaded the last of their luggage into his black SUV. Knox was already in the passenger seat, his expression carefully neutral as he avoided my gaze.

"Make sure the roof gets fixed while we're gone," Malcolm barked without looking at me. "The leak in the east wing is getting worse."

I nodded, my fingers unconsciously touching the spot where my Luna mark should have given me comfort. "I'll take care of it."

"That's your job, isn't it?" He straightened, finally meeting my eyes with cold indifference. "To manage the details while I handle the important pack business."

I swallowed hard, tasting bile. "Is there anything else you need before you leave?"

"No." He turned away, his attention already focused on the passenger door where Angie stood in a sunhat and oversized sunglasses, looking every bit the fragile invalid she'd pretended to be.

"Alpha," she breathed, her voice trembling perfectly. "Are you sure I won't be too much trouble?"

Malcolm's face softened as he looked at her. "Nonsense. You need this rest even more than we do."

I stood there, invisible in plain sight, as Malcolm helped Angie into the backseat. She settled in with a delicate sigh, then turned to look at me through the window.

As the car door closed, Angie's mask slipped. Her eyes met mine, lips curving into a smirk that transformed her entire face. She raised a manicured hand in a mocking wave before the tinted window rolled up, obscuring her triumphant expression.

Malcolm didn't even say goodbye. He simply got in the driver's seat and started the engine.

I stood in the driveway as they pulled away, the SUV's exhaust fumes enveloping me in a cloud of carbon monoxide and betrayal. I watched until they disappeared around the bend, taking with them the last fragments of my shattered heart.

---

Two days passed in a fog of pain and loneliness. The Pack House felt cavernous without Malcolm's commanding presence, but the silence was almost worse than his coldness.

I was alone in the kitchen on the third morning when it happened. I'd been making tea, my movements slow and deliberate to avoid triggering another headache. The cup trembled in my hand as I reached for the sugar bowl.

Then the world tilted sideways.

I remember the crash of glass as the pitcher shattered against the tile floor. I remember the sharp sting as shards sliced into my arm. I remember collapsing, my body betraying me as darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.

"Help," I whispered into the empty kitchen. "Please, someone..."

But there was no one. The pack members were busy with their duties, the house staff wouldn't arrive until morning. I lay there on the cold floor, blood seeping from the gash in my arm, mixing with spilled tea and sugar.

Time lost meaning. Minutes or hours later, I heard footsteps—too heavy for a wolf, too early for the regular staff.

"Luna?" A voice called out. "Luna, are you in here?"

I tried to respond, but my lips wouldn't form words. The ceiling spun above me as consciousness flickered.

"Mother of God!" The cleaner's face appeared above me, her eyes wide with horror. "Luna, what happened?"

"Help," I finally managed to whisper.

---

"The cut is deep, but the seizure is what worries me." Dr. Sarah Chen's voice was clinical as she stitched my arm. "This isn't the first one, is it?"

I shook my head slightly, wincing as the needle pierced my skin again.

"Laurel." She set down her instruments and looked directly into my eyes. "We need to talk about your scans."

Something in her tone made my blood run cold.

"The tumor is growing faster than we anticipated." She pulled up the images on her tablet, pointing to a white mass that had expanded since my last visit. "And there are new spots here, and here."

I stared at the screen, unable to process what I was seeing.

"Laurel," Dr. Chen continued, her voice gentler now. "I need to be very clear. The stress you're under is accelerating the growth. Your body can't fight this while it's also dealing with constant emotional trauma."

"What are you saying?" I whispered.

"I'm saying that if you stay in this environment, with this level of stress..." She hesitated, then met my eyes directly. "You have three months. Maybe less."

Three months. The words echoed in my mind as I stared at the bandage covering my arm.

"Is there nothing you can do?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears.

"There is one option." Dr. Chen leaned forward, her expression intense. "But it requires you to make a choice—about what kind of life you want to have in whatever time you have left."

I looked up at her, suddenly aware that this might be the most important conversation of my life.