My Mate Betrayed Me with the Girl I Raised

The Festival of Blood

Moonlight bathed the clearing as our pack gathered for the annual Moon Festival. I stood beside Harvey, my fingers intertwined with his, watching our pack members dance around the sacred fire. Ten years as Luna had taught me to read every face, every gesture—but nothing prepared me for what was about to unfold.

"Vivian." Harvey squeezed my hand, his voice low. "I need to check the northern border. Rogue scents were reported earlier."

I nodded, brushing a lock of dark hair from my face. "Be careful. The ceremony won't start without you."

His smile was dazzling as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Always am, Luna."

Those would be his last words to me.

The celebration continued, music filling the night air. I mingled with pack members, accepting condolences for Harvey's absence with practiced grace. Until the screams began.

"ATTACK! ROGUES AT THE BORDER!"

The music screeched to a halt. Warriors rushed toward the commotion as a young Delta stumbled into the clearing, blood soaking his shirt.

"Alpha Harvey—he's gone! The rogues ambushed him!"

Behind him, two warriors carried something that made my heart stop. Harvey's Alpha cloak, shredded and soaked in crimson, was draped across a makeshift stretcher.

"No!" The word tore from my throat as I lunged forward.

The pack erupted in wails. Margaret, Harvey's mother, collapsed beside me, her fingers clutching at the bloody fabric. "My son! My baby!"

I fell to my knees, gathering the cloak into my arms. It still carried his scent—pine and amber—but something was wrong. As Luna, I'd been trained to recognize death. The mate bond would snap violently, a physical pain like no other.

But as I clutched the cloak, screaming until my voice gave out, I realized something terrifying.

The bond hadn't snapped.

It had faded, yes—growing distant and muted—but it remained intact. A dull thrum in my chest told me what my mind refused to accept.

Harvey wasn't dead.

---

The Cabin in the Woods

Three days later, I slipped away from the Pack House under the guise of mourning. The pack believed their Luna needed solitude to process her grief. In truth, I needed answers.

The faint trail was nearly impossible to follow—Harvey had clearly tried to mask his scent—but my wolf's senses were heightened by desperation. Through the forest I tracked, following the faintest traces of pine and amber mixed with something else.

Lavender perfume.

Taylor's signature scent.

My niece. My protégée. The girl I'd raised as my own daughter.

The cabin appeared through the trees, smoke curling from its chimney. Neutral territory—a place where pack laws couldn't reach. My heart hammered as I approached, staying downwind to avoid detection.

Through the window, I saw them.

Harvey—alive, unharmed, laughing—poured champagne into two glasses. Taylor sat across from him, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

"To freedom," Harvey toasted, his voice carrying through the glass. "No more pack obligations. No more suffocating bitch telling me what to do."

Taylor giggled, taking a