When My Alpha Chose His Mistress Over Saving Me

Walker found me in the hallway outside the kitchen, where the morning light came in slanted and gold. For a second, I thought he might smile. He hadn't smiled at me in almost a year, but hope is a stupid thing. It keeps trying.

"Sylvia is moving into the Luna suite," he said. "Today."

I didn't move. I felt my thumb press hard against the inside of my wrist before I knew I was doing it. The small bone there, the little pulse, the thing I used to count when I needed something to count.

"Today," I repeated.

"This morning." His voice was the one he used in meetings. Flat. Final. The Alpha tone that the pack obeyed without thinking. I had obeyed it too, for seven years. "She's been through enough, Eva. She needs somewhere that feels safe."

Safe. In my room.

I looked at the floor between us. There was a scratch in the wood from when Buster had skidded after a tennis ball, back when Buster was still allowed inside. I focused on it.

"Walker." I kept my voice low. I had learned how to keep my voice low. "Can I have a little time. To pack my things."

He checked his watch. Not his phone. His watch, the one his father had given him. He didn't even look up.

"Twenty minutes."

Then he walked away.

I stood there for what felt like a long time, but it couldn't have been more than three seconds. Three seconds of my whole life folding closed like a book somebody else was reading.

Then I went upstairs.

The Luna suite was the room I had decorated myself, slowly, over years. A blue chair by the window. Linen curtains I had hemmed by hand during the months I was on bed rest after the second loss. I touched the back of the chair as I walked past. I told myself, don't.

I started with the closet. Folding fast. Not folding, really. Stuffing. I told myself I'd refold everything later, wherever later was.

The door opened without a knock.

Sylvia came in first, her hair loose down her back, wearing one of those soft cream sweaters that always made her look like she was about to cry. Behind her, two omegas I didn't know dragged in matching luggage. Brand new. The price tags were still on the handles.

"Oh," she said, like she was surprised to see me. Like this wasn't her doing. "Eva. I didn't realize you'd still be here."

I didn't answer. I went to the bookshelf where I kept the cedar box. It was small. Plain. Walker had never asked what was inside it. He had walked past it for two years without once asking.

Inside it was a lock of fur. Soft and grey, the color of weather. From the third one. The one I had carried the longest. The one I had almost named.

I reached for the box.

Sylvia stepped forward at the exact moment my