My Blood Mate Betrayal.

“Rodriguez, please—not again." My voice cracked, barely a whisper. My claws scraped against the cold stone floor of our den, brittle from exhaustion. My body trembled where I lay, curled in on myself, my belly heavy with life.

He towered over me, shadows clinging to the bristles of his dark fur, amber eyes lit with something far from love.

"I can’t keep doing this," I said, breath hitching. "It’s killing me. It’s endangering our child."

Rodriguez’s gaze narrowed. The warmth that once lived there had long turned to ice. "She needs you," he said.

"No," I whispered, curling tighter around my womb. "She needs you. Not me. What about our baby? What about us?"

His eyes flicked to my side—just for a moment. I watched a flicker of conflict ripple through him. But then it was gone, crushed beneath duty or maybe guilt. Maybe love. Not for me. Never for me.

"The baby will survive," he said coldly. "Elisa needs your strength more."

Elisa.

The name tasted bitter, like blood in the mouth. She had been gone for seasons, thought dead. His first mate. She’d returned broken, all bone and fever, her beauty a ghost. And yet, to him, she was everything.

Since her return, I had ceased to matter.

Not a mate. Not even a wolf.

Just a vessel. A thing. Her food source.

“Please, Rodriguez.” My throat tightened. “I’ve already given too much. Three hunts this week. I’m empty. I can’t keep feeding her. It’ll kill me.”

His lip curled. “Stop being selfish.”

The word struck like claws across my chest.

I gasped, stumbling back. My legs buckled, but before I could fall, he caught me by the scruff and dragged me out into the cold night.

Moonlight painted the clearing in silver-blue. Elisa lay among the leaves, her white fur matted, her frame skeletal. She didn’t even lift her head as we approached. She didn’t need to.

The pack healer, Maya, stood nearby, her eyes sharp as broken glass. “Alpha,” she said, voice low, “Anna is weak. She shouldn't be here.”

“She’ll survive,” Rodriguez growled. “Do it.”

I dropped to the ground, too tired to fight anymore. Maya hesitated—just a breath—but then she came forward. Her muzzle brushed my neck like an apology, and then I felt her bite. Not to wound, but to open the flow.

The pain was brief.

The draining was not.

My life slipped out of me in a slow, crawling tide. Warmth, strength, soul—all of it leaking into the earth beneath Elisa’s frail form.

“Rodriguez…” I whispered. “Please… I can’t…”

But he was already gone, mentally. Watching Elisa. Always Elisa.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was the way his eyes lit up when she stirred.

I woke up in a hospital bed, too clean, too cold. Antiseptic stung my nose, but beneath it was something darker. Familiar. Primal. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, restless.

Rodriguez wasn’t there. Not once since I’d collapsed had he come. But his scent lingered—just not here. It reeked down the hallway, soaked into Elisa’s room like rot. I heard the nurses whisper. He stays with her. He sleeps by her side.

And I—his wife, his mate—lay here, forgotten.

Our child, our children—forgotten.

I curled my fists, ignoring the IV needle pinching my skin. The wolf inside me clawed against the surface, screaming. I held her back. Barely.

The door opened.

Not him. Just a nurse. Young, kind, oblivious.

“Mrs. Milford, your prenatal check-up is this afternoon.”

I nodded.

She left.

An hour later, I called him. Stupid, stupid hope.

He answered. His voice, sharp. “What?”

“Rodriguez, it’s me,” I said. “The baby’s check-up—can you come?”

A pause.

Then: “I’m busy.”

A soft laugh, Elisa’s laugh, filtered through the background.

“Just go alone,” he said. “Elisa needs me.”

I swallowed the scream rising in my throat. “This is important.”

“So is Elisa’s health.”

Click.

Silence.

My hands trembled. Not from weakness. From rage.

At the clinic, the screen blinked to life as the sonographer ran the wand across my belly.

“You’re having twins,” she said softly.

Twins.

I should have felt joy. I should have cried. But all I felt was the weight of Rodriguez’s betrayal pressing on my chest like stone.

Once she delivers the baby, I’ll get rid of her.

I had overheard him.

That night.

Like I was nothing.

My wolf rose, teeth bared inside me.

The sonogram picture trembled between my fingers.

Two heartbeats.

Two lives.

Not his gifts to take.

Not hers to claim.

The air outside the clinic was hot and metallic, like blood and rust. I pressed a hand against my belly as I walked, feeling them shift inside me—my babies. Mine.

Back at the den, I moved quietly, like prey. Not out of fear—but calculation. Something inside me had changed. I was done begging.

Rodriguez was waiting when I returned. Leaning against the frame of the den, arms crossed, jaw tight. The moment he saw me, his eyes flicked to my stomach. He knew. Somehow, he knew.

“Twins,” he said flatly.

I said nothing.

He pushed off the wall. “Good. Elisa will be pleased.”

The words landed like claws across my chest.

“Pleased?” I asked, voice low. Dangerous.

He stepped closer. “She’s always wanted pups.”

“They’re not hers.”

His gaze hardened. “They will be. You’re not fit to raise them.”

There it was. Finally, the rot beneath the fur. Not even disguised. He wasn’t pretending anymore.

I met his stare. “You want me to bleed for her. Birth for her. And then what? Just vanish?”

“You’ve always been unstable,” he said. “Emotional. You fainted from one feeding.”

“One?” I laughed, bitter and hollow. “You made me feed her like a dying queen while your child withered inside me.”

Rodriguez’s jaw twitched. “This isn’t about you anymore.”

“You’re right. It’s about them.”

I stepped back. His body tensed, expecting resistance. He didn’t understand—he hadn’t noticed I was no longer pleading.

“I’m their mother. I will never let her have them.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I pretended to.

Rodriguez left after midnight, silent as shadow. But I was already dressed. Already waiting.

I followed him.

The trees swallowed his scent at times, but I knew where he was going. Elisa’s resting place—deep in the grove where the pack’s sick were isolated.

I crouched behind a fallen birch, the bark cold and damp against my palm.

Their voices carried low through the hush of trees.

“She’s breaking,” he said. “The birth will be soon.”

Elisa’s voice was fainter, raw. “I want them, Rodriguez. I can still give them what she can’t.”

“You will,” he said. “After she delivers… Maya will handle the rest.”

The betrayal wasn’t what broke me.

It was how easy it came to him.

I turned back before I heard more. I didn’t need details.

He planned to rip them from me like fruit off a branch.