Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by the King

The ledgers blurred before my eyes as I squinted at the candlelight, the flickering flame casting dancing shadows across Jonathan's ornate office. My fingers traced the columns of numbers—pack finances that I'd managed meticulously while my mate enjoyed the glory of leadership. A slight headache pulsed behind my temples as I recorded the latest expenses from the border patrol missions Jonathan had been so insistent on increasing.

*Something isn't adding up,* I thought, frowning at the discrepancies. *These supply runs to the Moonstone territory are becoming more frequent.*

*Miranda,* Lyra, my wolf, suddenly stirred within me. *Something's wrong.*

I paused, my pen hovering over the page. Lyra rarely interrupted my work unless it was important. *What is it?*

*His scent... through the mind-link. It's... different.*

I set down my pen, closing my eyes to focus on the mate bond that connected Jonathan and me. The mind-link channel that we shared had been quieter lately, but I'd attributed it to his increased responsibilities. Now, as I reached for it, I sensed something unfamiliar—a trace of something floral and sweet that didn't belong.

My heart quickened as I pulled out the tablet we used for pack communications. Jonathan had left it behind in his haste to join yet another border patrol. The device wasn't locked—why would it be? We were mates, bound by the sacred bond of the Moon Goddess. There should be no secrets between us.

But as my fingers navigated to his private channel, Lyra growled low in my consciousness.

*Look,* she urged.

The first message appeared innocent enough—coordination about patrol schedules. But as I scrolled, my blood turned to ice in my veins.

"I miss your touch already," read a message from Rachel Summers of the Moonstone Pack. "Tonight felt like forever."

"The border patrols are the only peace I get these days," Jonathan had replied. "You understand me in ways she never could."

My fingers trembled as I continued scrolling through weeks of exchanges—intimate conversations, secret meetings planned under the guise of pack business, complaints about me. The final message from Rachel glowed on the screen like a brand: "You'll always be my true Alpha."

I didn't realize I was crying until a tear splashed onto the screen, blurring the words that had just shattered my world.

*He betrayed us,* Lyra snarled, rage and pain coursing through our bond. *Our mate, our Alpha...*

The sound of heavy boots in the corridor snapped me to attention. Jonathan's familiar footsteps approached—he wasn't supposed to be back until morning. I stood, tablet clutched in my white-knuckled grip, as the door swung open.

Jonathan filled the doorframe, his powerful frame silhouetted against the hall light. His dark hair was windswept, and his eyes widened slightly at finding me still awake. For a brief moment, I saw guilt flash across his features before his Alpha mask slid back into place.

"Miranda," he said, his voice a practiced rumble of authority. "You should be resting, not buried in those tedious numbers."

I didn't answer.