Luna Rejects Cheating Alpha

The examination room felt smaller than a coffin, its sterile white walls pressing in around me as Dr. Aris Thorne's words echoed in my skull like a death knell. Three months. Fading Wolf Syndrome. Terminal.

My hands trembled in my lap, fingers interlaced so tightly my knuckles had gone white. The pack healer's weathered face was etched with sympathy, his silver eyes holding the kind of gentle sorrow reserved for the dying. I wanted to scream, to rage against the Moon Goddess who had blessed me with a fated mate only to snatch away my life just as I'd found my purpose. Instead, I sat frozen, my wolf Lyra whimpering like a wounded pup deep in my consciousness.

"Luna," Dr. Thorne said softly, his voice carrying the reverence my title demanded even as my world crumbled. "Would you like me to mind-link Alpha Dylan immediately? The mate bond can provide comfort during—"

"No." The word escaped before I could stop it, sharp and final. His bushy eyebrows rose in surprise, and I forced myself to breathe, to think past the roaring in my ears. "Not yet. I need... I need time to process this."

But that wasn't the truth, and we both knew it. The truth was that something had been wrong between Dylan and me for weeks now. The truth was that our mate bond, once a constant warm presence in my chest, had grown cold and distant. The truth was that my Alpha came home smelling like secrets and lies, his scent tainted with something that made Lyra pace anxiously in my mind.

Dr. Thorne nodded slowly, his healer's oath binding him to my wishes. "Of course. But Luna, please don't wait too long. The syndrome progresses quickly, and Alpha Dylan deserves to know—"

"Three months," I interrupted, my voice steadier now. "You said I have three months. That's enough time." Enough time for what, I didn't know. But the instinct to keep this secret burned in my chest like wildfire.

The drive home passed in a blur of autumn trees and lengthening shadows. My hands gripped the steering wheel until my fingers ached, Lyra's distress bleeding through our connection and making my vision swim. When I pulled into the driveway of the house Dylan and I had made our den, I sat in the car for long minutes, staring at the warm lights glowing in the windows.

Three years ago, I'd walked through that front door as Dylan's fated mate, my heart bursting with joy and purpose. I'd spent countless hours learning the traditions of our pack, memorizing the intricate ceremonies and protocols that would make me worthy of being his Luna. Every detail of our home bore my touch—the wildflowers I'd arranged on the mantle, the soft throws I'd woven from pack territory wool, the photographs of our happiest moments scattered throughout the rooms.

Now it felt like a mausoleum.

The moon was high and full when Dylan finally came home, his key turning in the lock with the quiet precision of someone trying not to wake a sleeping mate. I lay in our bed, eyes closed, breathing steady, as his familiar footsteps climbed the stairs. But when he slipped beneath the covers beside me, the scent that clung to his skin made my stomach clench with nausea.

Perfume. Sweet, cloying, artificial—nothing like the natural scents of our pack lands. And underneath it, the musk of arousal that wasn't meant for me.

Dylan's arm settled around my waist, his touch gentle but somehow foreign. Through our mate bond, I felt his guilt pressing against my consciousness like a physical weight, but he kept his mental shields raised, blocking me from the thoughts that might explain his behavior.

"How was the territory meeting?" I whispered into the darkness, testing him.

His body tensed almost imperceptibly. "Long. Complicated. The eastern border dispute is getting worse." His hand moved to rub the back of his neck—a tell I'd learned to recognize over our three years together. He only did that when he was lying.

The mate bond should have made deception impossible between us. The fact that he could lie so easily, that he'd learned to shield his thoughts from me, sent a chill through my bones that had nothing to do with my illness.

"I'm sorry you're dealing with so much stress," I murmured, injecting just the right amount of sleepy concern into my voice. "The pack is lucky to have such a dedicated Alpha."

His arm tightened around me, and I felt a spike of something—remorse? Fear?—through our bond before he locked it away again. "Go back to sleep, love. Everything will be fine."

But as I lay there listening to his breathing even out, feeling the familiar warmth of his body beside mine while the foreign perfume burned in my nostrils, I knew that nothing would ever be fine again. The Moon Goddess had given me a death sentence and a cheating mate in the same day, and I was utterly, completely alone.

Lyra whimpered again, weaker now, and I closed my eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. Three months to live, and my fated mate was already choosing someone else.

I would not beg. I would not break.

I would simply decide what to do with the time I had left.