Luna Rejects Her Traitor Mate

The sound of tires on gravel jolted me awake at dawn. My wolf stirred inside me, instantly alert. *Something's wrong*, she whispered in my mind.

I slipped from our bed, careful not to wake Isaac. The morning light filtered through the curtains as I padded to the window. A sleek black car had pulled up to our pack house, and from it emerged a figure I recognized instantly.

Mazie Fox.

My mate's childhood sweetheart clutched a bundle to her chest—a newborn pup. Her golden hair caught the early sunlight as she lifted her face toward our bedroom window. Our eyes met briefly before she smiled and turned away.

"Isaac!" I called, turning back to our bed. "Someone's here."

But the space beside me was empty. Isaac had already left.

By the time I reached the entrance hall, Isaac was there, his training gear abandoned in a heap by the door. He stood too close to Mazie, his eyes fixed on the tiny bundle in her arms.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said softly, reaching out to touch the pup's cheek with a gentleness I hadn't seen in months.

Mazie's eyes glistened with tears. "The birth was... difficult. The rogue... he left us. I had nowhere else to go."

My wolf bristled. *She's lying. Or hiding something.*

"You'll stay here," Isaac declared, his voice carrying that Alpha tone he rarely used with me. "You need pack protection, recovery time."

I stepped forward. "Isaac, shouldn't we discuss—"

"There's nothing to discuss," he cut me off without even looking in my direction. "Mazie needs our help."

*Our help?* My wolf growled. *Not our pack house. Not our home.*

---

"I need you to vacate the Luna suite by noon," Isaac announced two hours later, his voice clipped as he stood in our bedroom doorway.

I stared at him. "What?"

"Mazie needs proper accommodation for her recovery. The Luna suite has the best light, the most space for the cradle." He spoke as if this were the most reasonable request in the world. "You can move your things to the guest quarters at the end of the hall."

My wolf clawed at my insides. "Those are Omega quarters."

"You'll manage," he said dismissively. "Mazie needs the space more than you do right now."

I watched him pace as he continued outlining Mazie's requirements. "The room temperature needs to be kept at exactly seventy-two degrees. She prefers lavender oil in her bath—the French kind, not the cheap stuff from the market. Her meals need to be prepared separately; she can't tolerate garlic or onion in her food right now."

Each detail felt like a knife twisting in my chest. He'd never bothered to learn my preferences with such care.

"Oh, and make sure no one disturbs her during her afternoon rest," he added. "Complete privacy is essential for her recovery."

From the hallway came Eleanor's voice, high with excitement. "The finest linens from the cedar chest, Isaac? Yes, perfect for our dear