My Alpha Forced a Bond to Save Another Woman

I set the last candle on the dining table and stepped back to check the arrangement. The flames flickered against the crystal glasses, casting warm light across the white linen. Everything looked perfect. Three years ago today, Cody had marked me as his Luna in front of the entire Ironvale Pack. Three years ago, I had believed I was the luckiest she-wolf alive.

I smoothed down the silk dress I'd chosen—deep blue, his favorite color—and glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty. He'd promised to be home by seven. The roasted lamb was resting under foil. The wine was breathing. I'd made his favorite dessert, the chocolate tart that took four hours because the ganache had to set at exactly the right temperature.

I touched the mark on my neck, tracing the raised scar tissue with two fingers. The gesture had become a habit over the years, something I did when I was anxious or happy or waiting. Right now, I was all three.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin, sluggish as always. She'd never been strong. Delia, Cody's mother, had told me it was normal for some she-wolves to have delicate constitutions. The pack healer, Rowan, had echoed the same thing during my monthly check-ups, always with a sympathetic smile as he drew yet another vial of blood for 'routine monitoring.' I'd learned not to question it. Learned to be grateful that Cody had chosen me despite my weakness.

Eight o'clock came and went. I texted him. No response.

At eight-thirty, I called. Voicemail.

I sat down at the table and poured myself a glass of wine. The candles burned lower. My wolf—silent for weeks as usual—suddenly shifted inside me, restless and uneasy in a way I couldn't name. It felt like a warning, but I didn't know what I was supposed to be warned about.

By nine o'clock, the lamb was cold. I wrapped everything in foil and put it in the fridge, blowing out the candles one by one. The house felt too quiet. I pulled out my phone again and texted Silas, Cody's Beta.

*Is the meeting still going?*

His response came quickly. *What meeting?*

I stared at the screen. My pulse kicked up.

*The alliance meeting with the neighboring pack. Cody said he'd be back by seven.*

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then reappeared.

*Alpha didn't mention any meeting to me tonight, Luna. Let me check with him.*

I set the phone down on the counter. My hands were shaking. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Cody had forgotten to tell Silas. Or it was informal, not official pack business. Or—

My wolf stirred again, harder this time. Not a warning. A pull.

I didn't think. I grabbed my coat and slipped out the back door of the pack house, following the instinct I'd learned to ignore. Following the scent trail that belonged to my mate.

It led away from pack territory entirely, into the woods that bordered Crescentfall land. I shifted halfway, letting my wolf's senses sharpen my nose and ears while keeping my human form. The trail was strong. Recent. And underneath Cody's familiar pine-and-leather scent was something else—something floral and sweet that made my wolf recoil.

I walked for nearly an hour before I saw the cabin.

It was small, tucked into a clearing I'd never noticed before, with warm light spilling from the windows. Cody's truck was parked beside it. My chest tightened. I crept closer, my boots silent on the frozen ground, and peered through the gap in the curtains.

Cody was on the bed, shirtless, tangled in white sheets with a woman I didn't recognize. She was beautiful—dark hair spilling over the pillows, her skin flushed. She laughed at something he said, and he kissed her throat.

I should have felt devastated. Betrayed. Shattered.

But what I felt was confusion, because the woman's scent—the floral perfume that clung to the sheets and filled the room—was familiar in a way I couldn't place. And because Cody wasn't looking at her the way a man looked at his lover. He was looking at her the way someone looked at something precious they were trying to protect.

"We'll need to increase the dosage again," the woman said, her voice muffled through the glass. "She's stabilizing, but the deterioration is faster than we expected."

"I'll talk to Rowan," Cody said. "We can schedule another extraction next week. Felicity won't question it. She never does."

My name. He'd said my name.

I pressed closer to the window, my breath fogging the glass.

"Are you sure she doesn't suspect?" the woman asked. She sat up, and I saw her face clearly for the first time. My stomach dropped. I knew her. Not personally, but I'd seen photographs. Makenna Murray. My half-sister. The daughter my mother had kept when she abandoned me.

"She has no idea," Cody said. He reached for a folder on the nightstand and flipped it open. I could see medical charts, rows of numbers, dates. "Her wolf is too suppressed to sense the bond is false. And even if she did suspect, what would she do? She's too weak to survive a rejection. Too loyal to run."

"She's my sister," Makenna said softly. There was no affection in it. Just statement of fact.

"She's a resource," Cody corrected. "One we need to keep healthy enough to keep you alive."

Makenna leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I know. I just—sometimes I wonder if she's in pain."

"Does it matter?" Cody's voice was flat. "You're the one who's dying, Makenna. Not her."

I stepped back from the window. My legs felt unsteady. My wolf had gone completely silent, as if she'd retreated so far inside me I might never find her again.

I turned and walked back into the woods. I didn't run. I didn't cry. I walked, step by step, until the lights of the cabin disappeared behind me and the only sound was my own breathing and the crunch of frost under my boots.

By the time I reached the pack house, my mind was clear. Painfully, brutally clear.

I showered. I scrubbed the forest smell off my skin and washed my hair twice. I pulled on soft pajamas and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cold anniversary dinner I'd left on the counter.

When Cody came home an hour later, he smelled like pine soap and something floral underneath it. He smiled when he saw me, crossing the room to kiss my forehead.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "The meeting ran longer than I expected."

I smiled back. "It's okay. I saved you a plate."

He ate at the kitchen counter while I sat beside him, watching. He told me about the alliance discussion that never happened, about the treaty terms that didn't exist. I nodded in all the right places. Laughed when he made a joke.

When he went to shower, I stood in the bathroom doorway and watched him strip off his clothes. Watched him step into the steam. Then I walked to the mirror and stared at the mark on my neck—the mark I'd touched with reverence for three years.

It wasn't a mate bond. It was a brand.

And I was going to burn it off.