The Luna’s Second Chance Mate

At nine months pregnant, I felt the end of my tether as an email notification flashed across my phone. Opening it, my heart sank: an electronic bank statement showing Daniel, my mate and Alpha, transferring $30,000 each month to the same woman. These payments went back two years, right around the time we lost our first pup.

Then, my phone chimed with a message from her—a friend request and a smug note attached:

“The lucky she-wolf getting $30,000 from your Alpha.”

I felt an unnatural calm settle over me, like the stillness before a storm. Stroking my belly, I pressed accept on her friend request.

Immediately, she messaged:

“Did you see the bank statement?”

Ignoring her, I scrolled through her profile. The first photo was from two years ago, April 21, with her draped over a man’s shoulder. Her hand rested on him, a large diamond ring gleaming on her finger. The caption read, “Thank you for the birthday gift, love.”

Though only his back was visible, I recognized him. Daniel wore the shirt I had gifted him, the one with the crest of our pack embroidered on the collar. April 21, the very day we lost our first pup—while I lay alone in the pack hospital, my mate had been celebrating another she-wolf’s birthday.

My hand trembled as I scrolled through her posts. Each photo flaunted luxury gifts identical to things I owned. The only difference was the scent of jasmine—her signature perfume. Then, her most recent post appeared: an ultrasound image. She was pregnant.

I felt bile rise, and my hand flew to my belly. As I tried to breathe through the rage, my phone buzzed with new messages. Photos and videos from her flooded in, all depicting her and Daniel—laughing, playing, living the life of a couple. Each video burned deeper than the last, every photo digging into my heart like claws.

In one video, Daniel stood by the ocean, calling her “my Carina.”

“Do you love me?” she asked in the video, her voice soft.

The man I had loved for years, the Alpha of our pack, replied with the warmth I hadn’t seen in forever.

“Always, Cara. Forever.”

I watched the video on loop, my rage building. Then, as dusk settled, Daniel finally walked into our den. He took one look at me sitting in the dark and clucked his tongue.

“Olivia, you shouldn’t sit in the dark. What if you fall?” he scolded gently, flipping the light switch. The scent of jasmine clung to him, a mocking reminder. Keeping calm, I asked, “Where were you?”

“At the office, love. Why?” His voice was light, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

I pushed harder. “Nothing, I just… I suddenly want those dumplings from the east side of the territory.” I touched my swollen belly, feigning a craving, while our pup stirred inside me.

Annoyance flickered in his eyes as he muttered, “They’re not anything special, and you’re far along. You should be careful.” He turned away, already heading toward the bathroom. “Maybe call your mother for some stew.”

The bathroom door clicked shut, and I let out the breath I had been holding. Stroking my belly, I whispered, “It’s you and me, sweetheart. We’re about to face this war together.”

While the sound of water filled the den, Daniel’s phone blinked on the table, vibrating with an incoming message. With the weight of betrayal pressing down on me, I rose, moving slowly to pick it up. Attempting all the usual passwords, I felt relief and disgust when I successfully unlocked it with a date I knew too well—Cara’s ultrasound appointment.

Inside his messages, her profile greeted me. The chat was littered with endearments, confessions of love, and promises for the future. I recorded everything, saving these painful words, each piece of evidence cutting deeper. I then switched to his order history, and there it was—gifts, supplements, everything a pregnant she-wolf would need, all sent to Cara.

Heart pounding, I sent myself every screenshot, every video. Then, I carefully deleted the evidence from his phone and placed it back on the table.

When Daniel finally emerged, toweling his hair dry, I feigned sleep. But I felt him slide in beside me, his arm reaching out to touch my belly. In my heart, I knew this was a final act. Once his fingers brushed my skin, I forced myself not to recoil, listening as he whispered, “Sweetheart, there’s an urgent matter I need to deal with. I’ll be back soon.”

“Can’t you stay?” I whispered, testing him. If he stayed, maybe a part of me could forgive him.

But he gently declined, his voice strained. “I have to, love. It’s the pack. I promise I’ll be home before dawn.”

As he left, the calm shattered, and I moved swiftly, my heart racing. I grabbed my coat and waited until I saw his taillights disappear down the road. Quickly, I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address I knew too well.

When we arrived, I watched as Daniel’s car parked outside her cabin near the eastern border. I saw her step out, running to him with a smile. My chest tightened as he pulled her into his arms, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture so familiar yet foreign.

With trembling hands, I hit record on my phone, capturing the evidence of his betrayal one last time. Clutching my belly, I made myself a promise: the moment I brought my pup into the world, we would leave. This wasn’t just betrayal—it was the death of the bond I had once cherished.

As the two of them drove away into the night, I whispered to my pup, “I’m fighting for us now. No one will take what’s ours ever again.”