After My Mate Betrayed Me, I Lost Everything

The scent of blood hit me before I heard the howls.

I jerked awake in our bed, my heart hammering against my ribs as the pack mind-link erupted with panicked voices. Alexander's side of the bed was empty and cold—he'd left for border patrol hours ago with James and a small team of warriors.

Something was terribly wrong.

*Luna! Luna Charlotte!* The frantic voice of Delta Micah pierced through the chaos in the mind-link. *Rogues attacked at the Colorado border! The Alpha and Beta are down!*

My wolf, Lyra, surged forward in my consciousness, her panic mirroring my own. *Alexander!* I called through our mate bond, but received only silence in return.

I threw on clothes with trembling hands and raced through the moonlit corridors of the pack house. Warriors were already mobilizing, their faces grim as they rushed past me. The Shadowmoon Pack operated like a well-oiled machine during emergencies—Alexander had always insisted on perfect discipline.

"Where are they taking them?" I grabbed the arm of a passing Delta.

"Pack hospital, Luna," he answered, not meeting my eyes. "It's bad."

The drive to the hospital felt endless. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white, whispering desperate prayers to the Moon Goddess. *Please, please keep him safe. Keep them both safe.*

The hospital was chaos when I arrived—wolves rushing in every direction, the metallic scent of blood hanging heavy in the air. I pushed through the crowd, my Luna status clearing a path as wolves bowed their heads respectfully.

"Where is he?" I demanded of the first healer I saw. "Where's Alpha Alexander?"

"Treatment Room One, Luna," she answered, her eyes filled with concern. "Beta James is in surgery."

I ran down the sterile hallway, my heart in my throat. Alexander had to be okay. We'd been mates for five years—he was my everything, the center of my world. I'd molded myself into the perfect Luna for him, gentle and supportive, even when it meant burying parts of myself that were too strong, too assertive for his liking.

I pushed open the door to Treatment Room One, relief flooding through me at the sight of Alexander sitting upright on the examination table. His black hair was matted with blood, and a healer was cleaning a nasty gash on his temple.

"Alexander," I breathed, moving toward him with outstretched hands.

But he wasn't looking at me. His attention was fixed entirely on the woman sitting beside him—Victoria Hayes, James's mate. Her delicate hand rested on Alexander's arm, her face a perfect mask of concern.

"How is James?" Alexander asked her, his voice gentle in a way I rarely heard anymore. "Any updates?"

"Still in surgery," Victoria replied, her voice breaking slightly. She was beautiful even in distress, her honey-blonde hair falling in perfect waves around her tear-streaked face.

I stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly feeling like an intruder. "Alexander," I tried again, louder this time.

He glanced at me, his hazel eyes briefly meeting mine before