Rejecting the Unfaithful Alpha

The pack house felt suffocating as I made my way through the dimly lit corridors toward Ethan's office. It was well past midnight, and most of the pack had retired for the evening, leaving only the soft padding of night patrol wolves echoing in the distance. My weakened wolf stirred restlessly within me, sensing something amiss but unable to articulate what.

I'd volunteered to organize the territorial documents for next week's claiming ceremony—our ceremony. The moonlit hillside territory we'd dreamed of for years was finally within reach, and I wanted everything perfect for the moment we'd make it official. Ethan had seemed distracted lately, claiming increased rogue activity demanded his attention, but I attributed it to pre-ceremony nerves.

The office door creaked as I pushed it open, moonlight streaming through the tall windows and casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. Stacks of territorial maps and legal documents awaited my attention, but as I reached for the main filing cabinet, my elbow knocked against Ethan's laptop, causing it to spring to life.

The screen illuminated, revealing what appeared to be surveillance footage from various pack territories. I moved to close it, not wanting to invade his privacy, but something in the timestamp caught my eye. Last Tuesday, 11:47 PM—the same night Ethan claimed he was patrolling the eastern borders.

My breath caught in my throat as the footage began to play.

There, in a hidden forest clearing I recognized from our own territory, stood Ethan. But he wasn't alone. Violeta emerged from the shadows, her usually pristine appearance disheveled, her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. What made my world tilt on its axis wasn't just seeing them together—it was the way she moved toward him, the intimate familiarity in her gestures.

My hands trembled as I watched Violeta tilt her neck, exposing the tender skin where a fresh mating mark gleamed in the moonlight. Ethan's mark. The same mark that should have been mine alone.

"No," I whispered, but the footage continued its merciless revelation.

Violeta's hand moved protectively over her belly, and even through the grainy surveillance feed, I could see the subtle swell beneath her shirt. Pregnant. She was pregnant with his pup.

I sank into Ethan's chair, my legs no longer able to support me. The mate bond that had once felt like a warm, constant presence in my chest now burned like acid. How long had this been going on? How many nights had he lied about patrol duties while I waited at home, preparing meals and tending to pack business?

The surveillance system showed multiple files, each labeled with dates spanning the past several months. My finger hovered over the mouse, part of me desperate to know the full extent of his betrayal, part of me terrified of what else I might discover.

I clicked on another file. This one showed them in what appeared to be an abandoned den, Violeta's laughter echoing as Ethan spun her around, his face bright with