When My Alpha Betrayed Our Daughter

The day I returned to the city as a traveling healer, I found a deranged girl at the city gates.

She was mumbling incoherently, “Mother, save me…”

I pushed aside her matted hair and froze—it was my own daughter, Ailany.

She was barely conscious, her body covered in bruises, her clothes stained with blood. Someone had violated her.

I had only been gone for three years. How could Alden, the Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack, let this happen to her?

Rage boiled in my chest as I stormed toward the pack estate to confront him.

But today, the Blue Moon Pack estate was bustling with activity, decorated with blue and silver banners.

Someone in the crowd exclaimed, “The Beta of the Silver Fang Pack’s engagement gifts are so lavish! The daughter of the Blue Moon Pack is truly blessed!”

Another chimed in, “Isn’t she lucky? I saw her earlier—she’s as beautiful as the Moon Goddess herself!”

I frowned in confusion.

The daughter of the Blue Moon Pack? Other than my own, who else could it be?

At the city gates, I carried my unconscious daughter into the car.

Her eyes were vacant, filled with fear, and she trembled uncontrollably in my arms.

I tried to remove her stained and bloodied clothes, but the moment my fingers brushed her collar, she flinched violently, pushing me away.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me!”

Her nails dug into my arm, the pain searing through my skin, but it was nothing compared to the anguish in my heart.

When I left, Ailany was only twelve—innocent, bright, and full of life.

Now, she was like a wounded animal, shattered by the slightest touch.

Regret consumed me.

Three years ago, when a rogue attack struck the Kuo Pack’s territory, I, as a healer, had gone to help without hesitation, leaving my daughter behind in the care of the Blue Moon Pack.

I thought they would protect her.

How naive I had been.

I should have never left her.

As Ailany’s sobs subsided, I carefully inserted a needle into her pressure point to ease her into sleep.

Her body relaxed, her breathing steadied, but even in sleep, her brow remained furrowed, trapped in nightmares.

My hands trembled as I undressed her, and when her body was fully exposed, I could barely breathe.

Her chest was covered in bite marks—some healed, others festering and oozing with a sickening stench.

Her arms, stomach, and back were marred with bruises and gashes, not an inch of her skin untouched.

My fingers traced the wounds, each one a testament to her suffering.

But when I saw the state of her lower body, my heart nearly stopped.

It was raw and swollen, torn and bleeding, the sight so horrifying that tears streamed down my face.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming, but the lump in my throat made it hard to breathe.

Tears blurred my vision as I cleaned her wounds, applying ointment with trembling hands and dressing her in clean