The Mate Bond He Broke

I was nine months pregnant when the Wolf Council sent a resource report to the Luna’s quarters.

It listed my mate’s monthly distributions.

For two years straight, my husband—the pack’s Alpha—had been secretly providing the same female wolf with territory access, protection, and supplies.

Without missing a single month.

The first record dated back to two years ago.

The same month I lost my first pup.

A notification appeared—A contact request.

The note read: “A woman kept by an Alpha.”

I was strangely calm, one hand rested on my swollen belly as I accepted.

She messaged immediately. “You saw the report, didn’t you?”

I didn’t reply, I opened her feed instead.

The earliest post was dated April 21st, two years ago.

A female wolf leaned against an Alpha’s chest. His face was cropped out—but the mark on his shoulder was clear.

I recognized it instantly.

My mate’s Alpha mark.

The caption read: “Thank you for choosing me on my coming-of-age night.”

April 21st.

That was the night I lay bleeding in the healing room, losing my unborn pup.

He had told me he was away on pack business.

I kept scrolling.

She trained freely in Alpha-only areas.

Used resources reserved for the Luna.

Was guarded as if she already belonged at his side.

Every post carried the same message: He chose her.

Pinned at the top was a medical report—She was pregnant—With the Alpha’s pup.

I put the device down and returned to our bedroom.

Then I received it—Photos. Videos.

She sent them to me on purpose— to flaunt that the love I had once been so proud of had already rotted beyond repair.

I sat down slowly, my pup shifting inside me, pain spreading through my chest.

Only then did I understand—He had betrayed me completely.

This kind of love—I don’t want it. This pack—I won’t stay in it.

When my pup is born, I will leave—And I will take his heir with me.

Let the Alpha search every territory, scour every border, tear the pack apart in regret— he will never find us.

The woman in the photos was young and beautiful, her high ponytail full of careless vitality.

There were pictures of my mate rowing her across the inner lake of wolf territory, guiding her through moonlit waters meant only for bonded pairs.

Pictures of him shifting beside her during the first snowfall, their wolves running freely across the white ground.

Pictures of him lifting a red maple leaf and tucking it into her hair beneath the autumn moon—a quiet mating-season gesture among wolves, intimate and unmistakable.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter.

An entire year of love, carefully documented.

I took a slow breath, my fingers trembling as I opened a video.

My mate called her name softly.

“Lena.”

They stood on the sea cliffs at dusk.

She held his hand and asked gently, “Do you love me?”

The man I had been married to for seven years—The Alpha whose pup I carried.

He smiled and answered lazily,