Luna Rejects Her Alpha Mate

The antiseptic smell of the hospital room made my stomach turn as I sat alone on the edge of the exam table, the paper crinkling beneath me with every anxious shift. My phone screen glowed with five missed calls to Nathan, each one a desperate plea that had gone unanswered. The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly, marking each minute my mate chose to be elsewhere—with her—instead of here, where our unborn pup's life hung in the balance.

Dr. Hanson's face told me everything before she even spoke. Her eyes held that particular blend of professional composure and human compassion that doctors perfect when delivering devastating news.

"Mrs. Sterling," she began, her voice gentle but direct, "I'm concerned about what I'm seeing. You're experiencing what we call a threatened miscarriage. The bleeding and the ultrasound results indicate we need to perform an emergency procedure immediately."

My wolf, Aria, howled in anguish inside me—a primal, wounded sound that echoed through my consciousness but never reached my lips. Instead, I nodded mechanically, my hand instinctively moving to my belly.

"My mate..." I whispered, though I knew it was futile. Nathan wasn't coming. Not today. Not when Chelsea Quinn's pack meeting had taken priority over our fifth prenatal appointment.

"Is there someone else I can call for you?" Dr. Hanson asked, her hand resting briefly on my shoulder.

I shook my head. There was no one. In nine years as Luna of the Sterling Pack, I'd never felt so utterly alone.

"Let's just do what needs to be done," I said, my voice hollow even to my own ears.

As they prepped me for the procedure, a strange calm settled over me. It wasn't peace—it was the eye of a storm, the moment when pain becomes so overwhelming that numbness takes over. In that sterile room, as they took my child from me, something else died too: the last shred of hope that Nathan Sterling would ever be the mate I had sacrificed everything for.

* * *

Hours later, I pushed open the heavy oak door of the Sterling Pack mansion, my body weak and my soul shattered. The familiar scent of home—once comforting—now seemed tainted, overlaid with notes of betrayal. I moved through the grand foyer like a ghost, the pack members I passed averting their eyes. They could smell grief on me, but none dared to ask.

I followed the mingled scents of my mate and his mistress directly to his office. The door was ajar, and I could see Nathan behind his massive desk, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his powerful frame tense as he reviewed documents before him. Chelsea's perfume—that cloying vanilla and rose combination she wore specifically because it attracted male wolves—hung in the air like an accusation.

"Where were you?" My voice was barely audible, but his enhanced werewolf hearing caught it instantly.

His head snapped up, irritation flashing across his handsome features before he masked it with practiced indifference. "Andrea. I was in an emergency