After My Mate Chose My Best Friend Over Me

Pain tore through my lower abdomen, sharp and unforgiving. I gasped, gripping the edge of the sterile examination table until my knuckles turned white.

"Breathe, Vivienne. Just breathe," Elara Voss murmured.

The head healer of the Ironvale Pack wiped a damp cloth across my forehead. Her voice was calm, but when I looked up, her eyes quickly darted away. Her hands lingered on my bare shoulders. It was a heavy, guilty hesitation. A beat that lasted just a second too long.

I filed that look away in my mind. I didn't have the energy to question it right now.

"Another failed cycle," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

Elara sighed softly. She began packing away the silver instruments and glass vials. "Your body needs a break, Luna. The treatments are too aggressive. Your wolf is suffering."

She was right. Deep inside my chest, my inner wolf gave a faint, pathetic whimper. She used to be a towering, fierce presence. Now, after three brutal years of healer-assisted fertility treatments, she was barely a flicker. All to give Alpha Raymond Mitchell an heir. All to fulfill my duty as his mate.

"I'll be fine," I said flatly. I forced myself to sit up. My legs trembled, but I planted my feet on the cold floor.

"Let me call for a stretcher," Elara offered, stepping forward.

"No." I held up a hand. "I can walk."

I left the clinic and stepped into the cool night air. The Ironvale pack house loomed ahead, massive and quiet under the moonlight. I walked slowly, keeping one hand braced against the stone wall of the corridor. Every step sent a dull ache through my pelvis.

I just wanted my bed. I wanted my mate. I wanted Raymond to wrap his strong arms around me and tell me we would try again.

I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the pack house and made my way down the dimly lit hallway. The house was silent. Most of the pack was already asleep. I passed the grand staircase and headed toward the Alpha suite.

But halfway down the corridor, I stopped cold.

A scent drifted through the air. It didn't come from our bedroom at the end of the hall. It came from the guest wing to my left.

I closed my eyes and took a shallow breath.

It was Raymond. Dark pine and crisp ozone. It was a scent I knew better than my own. A scent I had worn like a second skin for over a decade.

But it wasn't alone.

Tangled tightly with his scent was something else. Sweet honeysuckle and warm vanilla. Mara. Mara Webb, my childhood friend. The woman I had invited into my home to stay as a guest.

The scents weren't just passing each other. They were woven together. Thick, heavy, and intimate. It was the unmistakable, musky warmth of two bodies that had been pressed close for hours.

I stood frozen in the dark hallway. My hand was still pressed flat