Cheated by My Mate, Bound to His Stepbrother

It's been years of trying to conceive, I stumbled upon a message from a woman named Quinn on my mate Benedict's phone.

[My new nightgown feels a little tight. Maybe you could help me see if it's too small?]

Attached was a picture—a woman draped in a red silk slip, the deep V-cut leaving little to the imagination. Her golden curls cascaded over bare shoulders, and her lips were parted in a way that suggested an invitation.

My grip on the phone tightened as I scrolled up, searching for previous messages. Until now, their conversations had been formal—mostly about pack duties. I frowned.

Was this a mistake? A message meant for someone else. Or was it something far worse?

Before I could dwell on it, a strong arm snaked around my waist. The scent of pine and embers filled my nose as Benedict pressed against my back, his breath warm against my ear.

"You're snooping through my phone, sweetheart?" His voice was laced with amusement, but I wasn’t in the mood for his charm.

I turned to face him, lifting the screen between us. "Explain."

Benedict’s golden eyes flickered over the message, and instead of looking guilty, he sighed and reached for his phone. Without hesitation, he pressed Quinn’s number.

The line clicked. "Alpha Benedict," a woman’s voice purred.

"Quinn," Benedict’s voice was ice-cold. "I wasn’t aware my Beta had started offering... personal services."

A pause, then a nervous chuckle. "Oh—Alpha, I’m so sorry! That message wasn’t meant for you. I must have sent it by mistake—"

"If it happens again," he interrupted, "you’ll be out of my pack before sunrise."

He ended the call and turned back to me, his sharp features softening. "See? It was nothing."

I should have felt reassured. But something inside me—the same instinct that had kept me alive all these years—refused to let it go.

I pulled away from his grasp. "I’m tired. We can talk tomorrow."

His jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he nodded. "Fine. I’ll be in the study."

The storm outside raged long into the night. Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the windows. When I woke, the bed was still empty beside me.

Frowning, I glanced at the clock. 3:12 AM. Still working?

I slipped on my robe and padded to the study, only to find the room dark and empty. My heart clenched.

Then my phone buzzed. A message request from an unknown number.

[Awake because your mate isn’t home?]

Another followed.

[He’s with me. Want to know where?]

I inhaled sharply, my wolf stirring beneath my skin. My hands trembled as I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the accept button.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the room for a moment. I clenched my jaw and pressed it.

An address popped up, followed by a single sentence.

[See for yourself.]

Cold dread settled in my bones, but I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my keys and drove through the storm. By the time I reached the location—a secluded cabin on the edge of our territory—the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

The front door was locked, but the code Quinn had sent worked. The lock clicked, and I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was the scent—Benedict’s scent, mixed with perfume.

Then I saw them. A trail of discarded clothes leading to the bedroom. His shirt. Her dress. A red nightgown, torn at the seams.

My stomach twisted, but my feet carried me forward. The bedroom door was ajar. I pushed it open.

Benedict lay tangled in the sheets with Quinn, his arm draped possessively over her bare waist. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and betrayal.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through my chest. They didn’t even stir.

My fingers curled around the doorframe as my wolf howled inside me. Eight years. Eight years of loyalty. Of love. Of sacrifice.

And this was how it ended.

I turned on my heel and walked out.

The bar on the way back to the packhouse was still open. I stepped inside, ignoring the curious glances as I slid into a booth.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

"Whiskey," I muttered. "Keep it coming."

By the time my friend Jane arrived, I had downed two bottles. My vision blurred at the edges as she slid into the seat beside me.

"What happened?" she asked, voice tight with worry.

I laughed bitterly. "You tell me. You always said he was too perfect to be real."

Her eyes darkened. "So he really cheat?!”

"I don’t want to hear his name."

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure what came next. But one thing was certain.

Benedict Ronan was no longer my mate.