After My Mate Cheated, I Took Charge

The morning air carried the scent of pine and dew as I watched Emma struggle to keep pace with the other pups. My daughter's small legs pumped harder, her face set with determination that reminded me so much of myself. Two older pups—Jacob and Mia from the Delta families—snickered as they deliberately bumped into her, sending her tumbling off the narrow training path.

My wolf, Luna, growled inside me. *Protect our pup.*

*We can't draw attention,* I reminded her, though every maternal instinct screamed to intervene. Instead, I bit my lower lip and hung back, suppressing the Alpha aura I'd inherited from my father. For years, I'd dimmed my light to let Marcus shine. As the Beta of Moonstone Pack, my mate needed to command respect without his mate interfering.

"Get up, runt," Jacob taunted as Emma picked herself up, dirt smudging her cheek.

I took a measured breath. "Emma, remember what we practiced. Find your balance."

My daughter nodded, her eyes—so like mine—flashing with determination. She rejoined the training run, her small chin lifted high despite the snickers. Pride swelled in my chest. She was only five, but already showed the Sterling resilience.

The morning training continued with the pups practicing tracking exercises under the watchful eye of Gamma Reid. I stayed at the perimeter, observing quietly as I always did. Marcus was absent again—pack business, he'd said. These days, he was always busy with "pack business."

The training circle suddenly went quiet. Emma had stopped dead in her tracks, her small nose raised to the air, nostrils flaring. Her head turned toward a small boy I'd never seen before, standing beside one of the pack mothers at the edge of the clearing.

"Daddy?" Emma called out, her voice bright with recognition.

The word hung in the air like a thunderclap. Every adult froze. Every wolf went silent.

I inhaled sharply, my enhanced senses immediately picking up what my daughter had detected—Marcus's scent, unmistakable and strong, clinging to the unknown child.

"What did she say?" someone whispered.

My heart hammered against my ribs as a woman stepped forward from the shadows of the trees. Sophia Blake. I'd seen her once or twice at the pack's periphery—a rogue seeking acceptance. She moved with deliberate slowness, an infant cradled against her side, and a smug smile playing on her full lips.

"Well," she drawled, loud enough for everyone to hear, "looks like introductions are being made sooner than planned."

Whispers rippled through the gathered pack members. Mothers pulled their pups closer. Warriors straightened, sensing conflict. My vision tunneled, focusing on the child—a boy about three years old—who carried my mate's scent like a brand.

Inside me, Luna howled—a sound of such anguish and rage that I physically swayed. *Betrayed. Our mate betrayed us.*

The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet as pieces clicked into horrible place: Marcus's late nights, his distraction, his declining interest in our bond. The way he'd insisted I remain in the background, away from pack politics