He Slept With My Sister, When I Was Giving Birth

Evelyn — They said the mate bond was sacred. That he'd protect me. Cherish me. Stay. But while I was screaming in a hospital bed, bringing his child into the world— he was in hers. Now I carry more than his baby. I carry the truth no one wants to say out loud. And I’m done pretending I wasn’t the one left bleeding. Chapter 1 Evelyn The blue glow of the TV washed over me in the darkness. I sank deeper into the couch, one hand rubbing my swollen belly. On screen, a reporter stood at Moon pack's borders, detailing the latest security measures. Pack warriors moved in the background, but the one face I was searching for wasn't there. Where was Damon? I checked my phone: 12:04 AM. My back ached from sitting too long, and the baby had been unusually active tonight, kicking and rolling as if she could sense my unease. Seven months pregnant, and I was still waiting up for my mate like some lovesick teenager. "He said he'd be back by ten," I whispered to my belly. "Daddy had to settle a dispute at the borders, that's all." The baby kicked in response, a sharp jab just beneath my ribs. Almost like she was calling me on my bullshit. The words sounded hollow, even to me. The knot in my chest had been growing for weeks now—that unmistakable twinge that came with the mate bond. Something wasn't right. I shifted position, trying to get comfortable, when a sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I gasped, clutching the armrest. "No, no, no..." I'd had Braxton Hicks before, but this was different. My fingers trembled as I tried to steady my breathing. Another cramp hit me, stronger this time, doubling me over. This is too early. Something's wrong. I knew what was happening. The mate bond was supposed to be sacred, protective, especially during pregnancy. But when one mate betrayed that trust... My eyes twitched with the effort of holding back tears as I fumbled for my phone. I reached for our mind link first, a desperate attempt to connect to Damon. Damon, I need you. The baby—something's happening. Nothing. Just the static emptiness of being blocked out. My throat tightened with the realization. He wasn't just absent; he'd deliberately shut me out. Fine. There was still the phone. I grabbed it from the side table, my hands shaking so badly I had to try twice to unlock it. I pulled up Damon's contact—his smiling face from happier times staring back at me as I pressed call. One ring. I shifted, trying to find a position that didn't hurt. Two rings. Another contraction built, making me bite my lip to keep from crying out. Three rings. "Please pick up, please pick up..." Four— "What?" Damon's voice cut through, sharp and annoyed. My heart leapt at the sound of him, despite everything. But I could hear music in the background. Laughter. The clink of glasses. No sounds of a border dispute, that was for sure. "Damon," I gasped, fighting through the pain. "Something's wrong with the baby. My water broke. I think—" "I already told you where I am, now can you let me be?!" His voice crackled with irritation. I could practically see him rolling his eyes, the way he did lately whenever I spoke. "Damon, please—I need help—" But all I heard was the beep of the call ending. I stared at the phone in disbelief, the screen going dark. Had he really just hung up on me? While I was in labor with his child? I called back immediately, heart hammering against my ribs. Straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. And again. And again. And again. By the fifth attempt, I was sobbing, leaving a message that was probably unintelligible through my tears. "Please come home. The baby's coming. I'm scared." Warm liquid trickled down my thighs, soaking into the couch beneath me. My water had broken. The panic rose in my chest like a tide, threatening to drown me. I tried my parents' landline next, fingers slipping on the screen. The call went straight to voicemail. Of course. The one time I actually needed my family... Another contraction hit, stronger than before. The pain wasn't just in my belly anymore—it radiated through my chest, my heart, my soul. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I struggled to stand. My legs shook beneath me, barely supporting my weight. I needed to get to the bedroom, to the overnight bag I'd packed just in case. Even though it wasn't supposed to be needed for another two months. The contraction ebbed, giving me a moment's reprieve. I staggered forward, one hand pressed against my stomach, the other reaching out for support. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before me, the bedroom door impossibly far. Another wave hit, this one stealing my breath entirely. My knees buckled. I caught myself against the wall, my vision swimming with black spots. So this was how it would end. My baby born too soon because her father couldn't keep his promises. Me, alone on the floor of our home, the mate bond twisting like a knife in my chest. As the pain subsided again, I heard the back door open. Heavy footsteps approached from the kitchen. "Miss Evelyn?" Luis, our gardener. What was he doing here so late? "Miss Evelyn!" His weathered face appeared in my narrowing vision, eyes widening as he took in the scene. "The baby—" "Help me," I managed to whisper. "Please." His calloused hands were surprisingly gentle as he helped me to my feet. "Hospital. Now," he said firmly, already guiding me toward the door. My last thought before another contraction claimed me was that my mate should have been the one holding me now. Not our gardener. Not a near-stranger who had more concern in his eyes than Damon had shown in months. * * * Chapter 2 Evelyn The hospital room was too bright, too sterile. I lay in bed, exhausted beyond words, staring at the ceiling tiles. Twelve hours of labor. Twelve hours of fighting to bring my daughter safely into this world, two months before she was ready. The door opened, and I tensed, turning my head with effort. Damon walked in, still wearing yesterday's clothes. His tie hung loose around his neck, his hair disheveled. And there, on his collar—a smudge of pink lipstick that might as well have been written in blood. My stomach knotted at the sight. He hadn't even bothered to change. Or to shower. Or to hide the evidence. He stopped at the foot of my bed, hands in his pockets, keeping his distance like I was contagious. "I heard you gave birth this morning," he said, his voice flat. "Congratulations." That single word hung in the air between us. Congratulations. As if I'd just aced an exam or won a small lottery. Not like I'd spent half a day fighting for our baby's life while he was somewhere else. With someone else. "Where have you been?" I asked. My voice came out as a raspy whisper after hours of screaming through contractions. "I could have died if it weren't for Luis." He blinked. "Luis?" "The gardener," I clarified. "He's the one who brought me to the hospital. He's the one who stayed until they took me into delivery." Damon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, almost looking uncomfortable for a split second. But he didn't answer my question. Didn't explain why he'd ignored my calls all night. Didn't even ask about his own daughter. "I had a freaking premature birth," I said, each word sharper than the last, "all because I'm marked by a cheating mate..." My voice broke, tears spilling down my cheeks. "And all you can say is congratulations?" Something flashed in his eyes—anger, maybe, or just annoyance at being inconvenienced by my emotions. "I have no time to exchange words with you, Evelyn." He straightened his tie, a gesture so normal it felt wrong in the middle of all this. And just like that, he turned and walked away. As if I were nothing. As if our daughter were nothing. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall freely now. I'd known our marriage was in trouble. I'd felt his growing distance, seen the signs. But I never thought he'd abandon us when we needed him most. That wound would never fully heal, I knew. Some betrayals cut too deep. A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. A nurse stood there, a tiny bundle swaddled in her arms. "Someone's been missing her mama," she said softly. As she placed my daughter in my arms, something warm stirred inside my cold, broken heart. She was so small, so fragile, her skin almost see-through. But she was fighting. Her tiny chest rose and fell with determined breaths, her miniature fingers curled into defiant fists. "Hello, little one," I whispered, tracing the curve of her cheek with my finger. For a moment, the ache in my heart subsided, replaced by something fiercer, more powerful. I would protect her. I would give her the love her father couldn't. It was a sad thing, to be born into a home with a father like Damon. But she would have me. And somehow, that would have to be enough. * * * Chapter 3 Evelyn "It was the gardener who took me to the hospital." The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. I stared at the thin hospital blanket covering my legs, picking at a loose thread. "Luis. The guy who mows our lawn." Susan sat in the chair beside my bed, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She'd come straight from work, still wearing her scrubs with the little cartoon frogs on them. "When I couldn't reach Damon..." I trailed off, not sure how to explain the fear of that moment. The panic. The pain. Susan reached over and squeezed my hand. "Hey, it's okay." Her voice was steady, the same voice she'd used when we'd hide under blankets during thunderstorms as kids, sharing a flashlight and making up stories to drown out the thunder. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." But I did want to. I needed to. The words had been building up inside me since yesterday, threatening to choke me if I didn't let them out. "He hung up on me, Sus." My voice was quiet. "I told him something was wrong, that the baby was coming, and he hung up. Then he wouldn't answer." Susan's eyebrows pulled together. "Are you sure he understood what you were saying? Maybe there was bad reception, or—" "He understood." I swallowed hard. "And then he showed up this morning with lipstick on his collar. Didn't even ask about the baby. Just said 'congratulations' like I'd won a raffle or something." The bassinet next to us made a small noise as the baby—my daughter—shifted in her sleep. So tiny she barely took up any space in there. Her little chest rising and falling with breaths that seemed too fragile to sustain life. Susan followed my gaze to the bassinet but quickly looked away. "I'm sorry about the landline," she said, changing the subject. "It's been acting up all week. And I had this awful migraine yesterday, couldn't even look at my phone without feeling sick." She touched my arm. "If I'd known..." "It's not your fault." I gave her a tired smile. "You're here now." Susan nodded, looking relieved. She glanced at her watch. "Mom and Dad send their love. They'll come by tomorrow—Dad's got that meeting with his publisher today." Of course. Our parents were always busy with something. Dad with his books, Mom with her charity work. Susan and I had practically raised each other. "Does she have a name yet?" Susan gestured vaguely toward the bassinet, still not looking directly at it. "Ava," I said. "I was thinking Ava Rose." "Pretty." Susan fiddled with the strap of her purse. "Has Damon seen her?" "No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "He left before the nurse brought her in. Honestly, I don't think he even wants to see her." Susan's expression was hard to read. "Things have been bad between you two for a while now, haven't they?" I nodded, memories flashing through my mind: dinner tables with only one place set, nights waiting up for him only to fall asleep alone, the growing distance I couldn't seem to bridge no matter what I tried. "I think he's cheating on me," I said finally. The words didn't hurt as much as I expected. Maybe because I'd known it for months, felt it in the mate bond that once connected us but now felt stretched thin and frayed. "I can feel it... here." I touched my chest, just over my heart. "But I don't know who it is." Something flickered in Susan's eyes, there and gone too fast to catch. She shifted in her seat, her hand slipping from mine. "You want me to find out?" she asked, her voice controlled. "Would you?" I leaned forward, desperate for any help, any ally in this mess my life had become. "You've always been good at getting people to talk. Maybe you could..." "I'll handle it," Susan said, cutting me off. She stood abruptly, smoothing down her scrubs. "But Evelyn, you need to prepare yourself. Confronting a cheating mate rarely ends well." She didn't quite meet my eyes. "Let me talk to him first, okay? Maybe I can get through to him." Relief flooded through me. "Thank you," I said, reaching for her hand again. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Susan squeezed my fingers, but it felt mechanical, like she was going through the motions. "I should go. Early shift tomorrow." "Already? But you just got here." "I'll come back tomorrow, I promise." She gathered her things, pausing at the door. "Try to get some rest. You look exhausted." Before I could respond, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. The room felt emptier, quieter without her. Outside the window, afternoon was sliding into evening, long shadows stretching across the hospital parking lot. I could see people going about their normal lives, getting into cars, heading home to families who were waiting for them. Ava made a small sound, and I turned to look at her, really look at her for the first time since the nurses had cleaned her up and placed her in my arms. She had my nose, I thought. Maybe Damon's chin. Her skin was still wrinkled and red, her eyes unfocused when they opened briefly. Would he ever look at her? Would he ever hold her and feel that rush of love I'd felt, even through the haze of pain and exhaustion? I touched my stomach, still swollen and tender. Everything hurt—my body, my heart, my pride. But looking at Ava, I felt something else too. Something stronger than the pain. "We'll be okay," I whispered to her, not entirely sure I believed it. I got used to the 3 AM quiet. The particular stillness of the house when everyone else was asleep and it was just me and Ava in the yellow glow of her nursery lamp. Her tiny fingers would curl around mine while she nursed, and I'd watch shadows play across the ceiling, wondering where Damon was sleeping. He came home less and less. When he did appear, it was only to shower and grab fresh clothes before disappearing again. One evening, I found him standing in the doorway of the nursery I'd spent months decorating—the clouds I'd painted on the ceiling, the bookshelf filled with stories I remembered from childhood. He looked at it all like he was seeing a stranger's house, then silently moved his remaining things to the guest room down the hall. I tried to talk to him once, catching him in the kitchen early one morning. "She has your eyes," I said, watching him pour coffee into a travel mug. He stared at me for a long moment, then screwed the lid on his mug and walked out without responding. Susan visited every few days, bringing takeout and watching bad reality TV with me while Ava slept. She never mentioned Damon, and I stopped asking if she'd talked to him. The answer was in the growing distance between us, in the cold silences that filled our home. I was changing Ava one morning when my phone buzzed with a text. Need Q3 projections for board meeting. Bring to office ASAP. - Marissa (That was Damon's assistant) I stared at the message, my pulse quickening. This was the first real connection to Damon in weeks—even if it was through his assistant. "What do you think, Ava?" I asked, tickling her belly. "Should we go see Daddy at his office?" She blinked at me, uncomprehending but beautiful. Twenty minutes later, I'd found the folder in his home office and was heading to the kitchen, an idea forming. The chicken porridge I'd made yesterday was still in the fridge—his favorite. I packed a container carefully, adding a sprig of parsley the way he liked. "Maybe this is our chance," I told Ava as I strapped her into her carrier. "Maybe seeing you, seeing us... maybe it will remind him of what's important." The hope was small, fragile, probably foolish. But it was all I had left to hold onto. * * * Chapter 4 Evelyn Outside Damon's office building, the late morning sun turned the glass façade into a wall of fire. I stood on the sidewalk, Ava's carrier heavy in one hand, the bag with his documents and food in the other, wondering if I'd made a mistake coming here. This is ridiculous. I'm his mate and the mother of his child. I shouldn't be afraid to walk into his office. But my heart hammered against my ribs anyway, a trapped bird beating against its cage. The security guard at the front desk recognized me, his eyes brightening. "Luna Evelyn! It's been weeks." His gaze dropped to the carrier, and his smile widened. "And this must be the little one." "Yes, this is Ava," I said, grateful for the warmth in his voice after weeks of Damon's cold silence. "The Alpha will be pleased to see you both," he said, buzzing me through. Will he, though? I wondered, stepping into the elevator. I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall—dark circles under my eyes, hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, wearing the first clean shirt I could find. Not exactly the put-together Luna I used to be. As the elevator climbed, I rehearsed what I would say. I know things have been difficult between us. I want us to talk. Really talk. For Ava's sake, if nothing else. Simple. Direct. No accusations, no tears. The elevator doors slid open on the top floor. The familiar corridor stretched before me, lined with artwork from local pack artists—Damon's way of supporting the community. I'd helped him select most of these pieces, back when he still valued my opinion. His assistant Marissa wasn't at her desk. Unusual for her to be away, but it made things easier. I shifted Ava's carrier to my other hand and approached Damon's office door. Through the frosted glass, I could make out shadowy movements. He was there, and he wasn't alone. Probably in a meeting. I hesitated, then raised my hand to knock. The porridge would be getting cold. Knock first, I reminded myself. Don't just barge in. My knuckles rapped against the wood, three quick taps. Without waiting for a response—a habit from years of coming and going freely in his spaces—I pushed the door open. For one suspended moment, my brain couldn't process what I was seeing. Like looking at a painting that appeared to be one thing from a distance, only to discover it was something else entirely up close. Damon was there, yes. But he wasn't in a meeting. He stood with his back against his desk, his shirt half-unbuttoned. And wrapped around him, her legs straddling his thigh, her hands in his hair, was a woman. They broke apart at the sound of the door, two pairs of startled eyes turning toward me. The flask of porridge slipped from my fingers. It hit the floor with a dull thud, the lid popping off, hot food spilling across the polished hardwood. But I barely noticed. Because the woman disentangling herself from my mate, smoothing down her skirt with practiced ease, was Susan. My sister. The same sister who had held my hand in the hospital. Who had promised to help me. Who had looked me in the eyes and lied. "Why?" The word escaped me, small and broken. Susan didn't answer. She didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. Instead, she stepped away from Damon, her chin lifting slightly, her eyes meeting mine with an emotion I couldn't name. Something cold and foreign that had no place in my sister's face. I turned to Damon, searching. Regret or apology. Anything that would make sense of this nightmare. "Of all people, it had to be you," I said to Susan, my voice steadier than I expected. "You, Susan. My own Sister." In front of me, Damon's hands settled on Susan's waist, casual and possessive, as if I weren't even there. As if I hadn't just caught them in the act of betraying me in the most intimate way possible. Susan's lips curved into something close to a smile. My heart wasn't breaking. Breaking implied a quick, clean snap. This was a slow, excruciating compression, like being crushed from the inside out. "How..." I swallowed, my mouth dry. "How long has this been going on?" Damon shrugged, his eyes cold. "What does it matter? I really just don't love you anymore." The words hit me so hard, I stumbled back a step. "But I'm your fated mate," I whispered. "Remember when you marked me?" The night he'd claimed me, promised me forever. The first man I'd ever been with, the only man I'd ever wanted. Something flickered in his eyes—a shadow of the man I'd fallen in love with, perhaps. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by a hardness I'd never seen before. "You can stop whatever games you're playing now and go to hell with that bastard of yours!" he spat, his voice rising. "We both know that child isn't mine." I stared at him, uncomprehending. The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "What bastard?" Heat rushed to my face as understanding dawned. I glanced at Ava, sleeping peacefully in her carrier, oblivious to the ugliness around her. "You can treat me however you want, but I won't forgive you for calling my precious baby a bastard!" Before I could think, I was moving toward him, my palm connecting with his cheek in a sharp crack that echoed through the room. The sting in my hand was strangely satisfying. I turned to leave, my fingers closing around the door handle, desperate to escape this room, this betrayal, these people I no longer recognized. "Wait." Damon's voice stopped me. Not gentle, not apologetic. Just cold. "Evelyn, just you wait, so I can prove to you that your bastard daughter doesn't belong to me." I turned slowly, confusion cutting through my anger. What was he talking about? Before I could ask, he tossed something onto the floor between us. Photographs, dozens of them, spreading across the hardwood like fallen leaves. I didn't need to bend down to see what they showed. The images were clear enough from where I stood. Me, or someone who looked exactly like me, in a hotel room. In bed with a stranger, his hands on my body in ways that left nothing to the imagination. "This is not me!" I gasped, bile rising in my throat. "I can't... recall being that way with a man, I—" Damon laughed. "Are you that dull?" he sneered. "You can't recall, huh?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Take another look at those pictures and think back. Deep. Where were you, seven months ago, on a Friday night of the second week?" The question hit me like I had suddenly been poured a bucket of Ice water. Seven months ago. The timing of my pregnancy. And that specific date... I looked to Susan instinctively, the way I'd always looked to her when I needed help. We were supposed to be in this together because I was with her that same night. That night when we'd gone out for drinks. When I'd woken up the next morning in a hotel room with no memory of how I'd gotten there. Susan had been there too, had assured me nothing happened, that we'd just had too much to drink and decided to get a room instead of driving home. "Susan..." I began, reaching for the one person who could corroborate my story, who knew I would never cheat on Damon. But Susan stepped away, her eyes cold. "Don't expect me to cover your dirt for so long. My conscience is beginning to judge me." She brushed past me, heading for the door. As she passed, she leaned close, her lips nearly touching my ear. "That look of your blood boiling over just makes me happy," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "Now let's see who becomes Luna between us." My blood ran cold. This wasn't just an affair. It was a calculated takedown. By my own sister. I turned to face Damon, the man I'd once believed would love me forever. The stranger who now looked at me with contempt. "I want a divorce," I said, the words clear and final. In that moment, with the weight of their betrayal pressing down on me, it was the only truth I had left. * * * Chapter 5 Damon "I want a divorce." The words hit me like a punch. Evelyn stood there, her eyes hard in a way I'd never seen before. The woman who always forgave me, who always came back, was gone. I stepped toward her, trying to hide my surprise. "You want a divorce?" I tried to sound mocking. "No. You're just trying to get my attention. It's not working." She didn't react the way I expected. No tears. No begging. She just shifted the baby carrier to her other hand, her knuckles white from gripping it too hard. "I can't be with a cheater who didn't care about my pain when he slept with my sister." Her voice broke on the last word. She started hitting my chest with weak punches. I let her. Her fists barely hurt, but each one landed somewhere deeper. "Why are you so upset when you cheated first?" I caught her wrist. It felt small in my hand, birdlike. I remembered holding it the first time we met, how perfectly it had fit. Something stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard. "Wasn't I enough for you?" I hadn't meant to ask that. She looked up at me, anger giving way to disbelief. "I didn't cheat on you," she said quietly. "I can't prove it, but you have to believe me." For a split second, I almost did. There was something in her eyes—the same honest look from when we first met. But then the photos flashed in my mind again. The images I couldn't unsee. Her birthmark just below her shoulder blade. The curve of her hip that I knew so well. That stranger's hands on her breasts, his mouth on the spot where I'd placed my mark. Her head thrown back, eyes closed. I'd stared at those pictures for hours after Susan brought them to me, drinking until I couldn't feel the pain. How many times had Evelyn been with me just like that? How many times had she told me I was her only one? And now she stood here, lying to my face. "I can't believe you." I stepped back, pointing at the mess of photos on the floor. "Not with those pictures showing me our whole relationship was fake." I walked to my desk, keeping my back to her so she wouldn't see my hands shake. I shoved them in my pockets. "Meet me in court," I said over my shoulder. "Tomorrow. Ten o'clock." I walked out without looking back, passing Susan in the hallway. She reached for my arm but I pulled away. I needed air. Outside, I loosened my tie, breathing in deep. The sky was too bright, too blue. Like the day at the lake when I'd first told Evelyn I loved her. Pull yourself together, Damon. I had a pack to run. A woman who actually wanted me. I didn't need Evelyn's tears or lies. I didn't need the small voice in my head asking: What if she's telling the truth? The crowd outside the packhouse courtroom parted as I approached, heads bowing in deference to their Alpha. Inside, the elders had already assembled, along with both our sets of parents. My father nodded grimly. My mother wouldn't meet my eyes. Evelyn hadn't arrived yet. I paced the length of the chamber, energy I couldn't dispel crackling through my limbs. "Are you certain about this, son?" My father's voice was low enough that only I could hear. I gave him a sharp look. "You've seen the evidence." He sighed, a sound that carried the weight of his years. "I've seen photographs. I've also seen the way that girl looks at you. Never known a better Luna for this pack." "She betrayed me," I snapped. "Betrayed all of us." He held up his hands in surrender, backing away. Still acting like he knew better, as always. As if I hadn't been running this pack successfully for years now. A murmur rippled through the crowd. I turned to see Evelyn entering, her head held high despite the whispers that followed her. Her gaze swept the room, landing briefly on her parents before settling on me. No tears today. No pleading. Just that same cold resolve I'd seen in my office. She'd worn the formal Luna robes, deep blue with silver embroidery at the hem. The traditional dress of a mated female Alpha. I wondered if it was her way of reminding everyone of her position, of what she stood to lose. She moved to her designated place across from me, her steps measured and slow. We faced each other across the ceremonial circle inlaid in the stone floor. The head elder stepped forward, his voice carrying to the farthest corners of the room. "Alpha Damon has called this council to formally address accusations against Luna Evelyn. The Alpha will now present his judgment." I'd rehearsed this speech a dozen times since yesterday. Had the words ready. But standing there, looking at Evelyn's pale face, the woman I'd once sworn to protect, the words seemed to dry up in my throat. I forced them out anyway. "Luna Evelyn has betrayed the trust of her Alpha and her pack. She has violated her mate bond and brought dishonor to her position." A ripple went through the assembled crowd. Evelyn's mother let out a small sound of distress. "For these offenses, I hereby demote her from the rank of Luna to—" I hesitated, just for a second. Say it, Damon. "To warrior." Gasps echoed through the chamber. Everyone understood what this meant—from the second highest position in the pack to one of the lowest ranks. From standing beside me in all decisions to taking orders from nearly everyone else. * * * Chapter 6 Damon Evelyn didn't flinch. Didn't cry out. Just stood there, hands folded in front of her, accepting the judgment with a composure I hadn't expected. Before the elder could call for the ceremonial acceptance of judgment, the doors burst open. Three of my best warriors rushed in, their expressions grim, clothing torn and bloody. "Alpha!" the first one called, dropping to one knee before me. "Rogues have breached the eastern border. Five of our head warriors are dead, and they've burned down the plantation fields." The room erupted in chaos, pack members shouting questions, demanding answers. I raised my hand for silence. "How did they get past our defenses?" I asked, cold fury replacing the conflicted emotions of moments before. The warrior shook his head. "We don't know, Alpha. But we captured one of them. Under questioning, he revealed that—" He hesitated, glancing nervously at Evelyn. "Speak," I commanded. "He said the Luna gave them the location of the secret route into Moon Pack territory. Said she's been feeding them information for months." The room went still. All eyes turned to Evelyn, whose face had drained of color. "That's not true," she said, her voice barely audible. "I would never betray the pack." But the seed of doubt had been planted. The timing was too convenient, coming right as our relationship fractured. And hadn't she already betrayed me once? Hot rage flooded my veins, overtaking any lingering hesitation. The attacks, the deaths, the fires—all because of her? "Enough," I growled, the wolf rising in my voice. "I've heard enough lies." I turned to the elders. "I change my judgment. Luna Evelyn is hereby divorced from her mate bond and banished from Moon Pack territory, effective immediately." Evelyn swayed on her feet, reaching out to steady herself against a nearby bench. "Damon, please," she whispered. "You can't believe I would do this." I couldn't listen. Couldn't risk being swayed by that pleading voice. Five warriors dead. Fields burning. How many more would die if I showed weakness now? "Guards," I called, "escort the former Luna to the border. She has until sundown to clear pack lands." "My baby," she said, desperation edging into her voice for the first time. "Let me take Ava with me. Please, Damon. She needs her mother." Something inside me recoiled at the thought of releasing the child—my child, according to the mate bond, regardless of who had fathered her. And deeper, uglier: if Evelyn wanted Ava so badly, then taking her away would be the perfect punishment. "No," I said, hardening my heart against her plea. "The child stays. She's part of this pack." Evelyn lunged forward. Her eyes changed color—human brown to wolf amber in a heartbeat. The first guard reached for her arm. She backhanded him across the face, sending him sprawling onto the floor. "Watch out!" someone yelled. Her nails grew longer, sharper. She slashed at the second guard, ripping his uniform. When the third tried to grab her from behind, she threw her head back, cracking his nose. Blood sprayed across the stone floor. Pack members scrambled back. More guards rushed in. I stood my ground. Evelyn knocked two more aside, moving with her wolf's speed. Then she was right in front of me, breathing hard, half-shifted. Close enough that I could smell her—the soap she'd used that morning, the milk scent from the baby, the anger rolling off her in waves. She raised her hand. Claws extended, ready to strike. I didn't flinch. Didn't call for help. Her eyes met mine, and something passed between us. The anger in her face crumbled. Her claws retracted. The amber faded from her eyes. "Please," she said, barely above a whisper. "You know me. I wouldn't betray the pack." She swallowed hard. "Ava needs me." I could have touched her then. Could have wiped the tears now tracking down her cheeks. My hand twitched at my side. Instead, I turned away. "Take her out," I said to the guards over my shoulder. Behind me, I heard scuffling. The thud of bodies. Her scream when they finally pinned her arms. "You'll regret this!" Her voice bounced off the walls. "You're making a mistake, Damon!" I kept my back to her, eyes fixed on the empty ceremonial circle. Her shouting turned into something worse—choked sobs that tore at something deep in my chest. "Ava!" Her final cry as they dragged her through the doors. Then silence. * * * Chapter 7 Damon Five years. I stood at my office window, watching rain streak down the glass. Five years since I'd signed those papers. Five years since I'd watched the guards drag Evelyn away. The mansion felt different without her. Quieter. The colors somehow duller, though nothing had actually changed. We still had the same furniture, the same artwork. I hadn't let the staff redecorate, though Susan had tried a few times. Susan. Another complication I didn't want to think about right now. A crash from down the hall pulled me from my thoughts. Then small, quick footsteps running toward my office. "Daddy!" The door burst open and Ava tumbled in, her dark hair escaping from what had probably been a neat braid that morning. One of her socks had slipped down around her ankle, and there was a smudge of what looked like chocolate on her cheek. Five years old today. Hard to believe. "Dad, it's my birthday!" She launched herself at me, latching onto my leg. "Everyone in the mansion gave me a present except you!" I felt the familiar twinge of irritation at "Dad." I'd never encouraged her to call me that. Had actually told her not to, more times than I could count. But she persisted, as stubborn as her mother. Her mother. I pushed the thought away. "Ava." I kept my voice calm but firm as I gently detached her arms from my leg. "How many times have I told you not to call me that? I'm not your fa—" I stopped. Her bottom lip was already trembling, her golden-brown eyes filling with tears. Eyes that looked too familiar. "Daddy!" Her voice rose with that particular pitch that children discover when they know they're about to be denied something. "You're the only parent I know!" She grabbed fistfuls of my shirt, holding on as if I might vanish if she let go. I set her down beside me, more firmly this time. She crumpled to the floor immediately, tears spilling over. The staff hovering in the hallway exchanged looks. I could read their thoughts plain enough: Poor little girl, with a father who won't even acknowledge her. "Goddamn it," I muttered, too low for her to hear. Five years of this dance. Five years of seeing Evelyn's features in her face—the shape of her eyes, the curve of her cheek, the stubborn set of her jaw. And always that nagging doubt in the back of my mind, the one I refused to acknowledge. The one that whispered: What if she really is yours? I knelt down beside her, sighing. "Happy birthday, Ava." I kept my voice steady. "Now that you're five, aren't you getting too old for these tears?" She hiccupped, still crying but watching me through wet lashes. I don't know what made me do it. Maybe her birthday. Maybe the way she looked at me with those damn eyes. I unclasped my watch—silver with a moonstone face, a Hilton family heirloom meant to be passed to the next Alpha—and fastened it around her tiny wrist. It hung there, comically large, nearly slipping off when she moved her arm. But you would have thought I'd given her the moon itself from the way her face lit up. She stopped crying instantly, running her fingers over the watch face in wonder. I looked at her—really looked at her. At those eyes the exact shade of Evelyn's, at the stubborn little chin that jutted out when she was upset. At the hair that never stayed in place no matter how the nannies tried to tame it. Just like her mother's. The house had grown cold since Evelyn left. Even on the hottest summer days, there was a chill that never quite disappeared. I'd gotten used to it, that emptiness. But I missed her. God help me, I did. Especially since finding out that she wasn't the one who betrayed us to the rogues. A confession from the true culprit three years too late, long after Evelyn was gone. I looked back at Ava, at the watch sliding around her wrist. I still didn't believe she was mine. The timing, the photos—they all said otherwise. But I couldn't hate her, either. Not really. Not when she had so much of Evelyn in her. "Daddy, you said Mommy would be here for my fifth birthday." Her voice was small, hopeful. The guilt hit me like an actual punch to the gut. I'd been telling her that story for years now—that her mother traveled a lot, that she came by when Ava was sleeping, that she left the presents I claimed were from her. Easier than the truth. Easier than explaining why her mother wasn't here, why she'd never seen her, why Evelyn had left without saying goodbye. Left without her. "I'm sorry, Ava." I watched her hope crumble. "Your mom... she can't make it today." Her lower lip trembled again. "Mom doesn't want me because she doesn't love me, right?" Before I could answer, she backed away, stumbling over her own feet. Her elbow caught the edge of a small table, knocking over the cake one of the staff had brought in. Frosting and cake smeared across the floor as she turned and ran from the room, the watch bouncing against her arm. * * * I stayed kneeling there, staring at the mess, feeling something uncomfortably like shame settle in my chest. "You should tell her the truth, Damon." I looked up to see Cole leaning against the doorframe. My Beta had a knack for showing up at my least proud moments. "If you let her discover it herself, she's going to hate you," he continued. "I can assure you of that." I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my knees. "I know," I admitted. "But how do you tell a five-year-old that her mother was banished? That I'm the one who sent her away?" Cole shrugged. "You figure it out. Better from you than from someone else." He stepped into the room, lowering his voice. "The rogues hit the southern border again last night. Three injured, no deaths this time." "Increase patrols along the ridge line," I said, grateful for the change of subject. "And send extra guards to the western entrance. If they're testing our southern defenses, it might be a distraction." Cole nodded, then hesitated. "Some of the pack were talking about organizing a night out. Cards, drinks. You should come. You've been..." He searched for a diplomatic way to put it. "...intense lately." "It's Ava's birthday." The excuse came automatically. "I should stay home with her." Cole's eyebrows rose slightly at that, but he was smart enough not to comment. We both knew I hadn't spent a full evening with Ava in months. I glanced at my wrist, momentarily confused by the absence of my watch. Then I remembered. "It's time for me to check on Susan anyway." Cole's expression shifted, something like concern flashing across his face. "How is she?" "The fever's not breaking." I moved toward the door. "I heard about a new pack doctor, actually. Supposed to be good with complicated cases." "I'll make some calls," Cole offered. "See if we can get an appointment." I nodded my thanks and headed down the hall toward the east wing, where Susan had been staying since her condition worsened two months ago. Her door was ajar. I knocked lightly before pushing it open. The room was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon light. Susan lay in bed, her skin pallid against the dark sheets, her hair limp with sweat. She looked nothing like the vibrant woman who'd shown me those photographs five years ago, who'd convinced me of Evelyn's betrayal, who'd stepped into the role of Luna without hesitation after the banishment. Something in my chest tightened at the sight of her suffering. Not love—I'd never felt that for Susan, despite her hopes. But a sense of obligation. Of responsibility. She'd been there when I needed someone, and I owed her for that, at least. "How are you feeling?" I asked, touching her forehead. Still burning. "The fever is taking over my entire being," she said, her voice weak. "I need a doctor soon, or I'll die." Always dramatic, even now. But she wasn't entirely wrong. This illness had dragged on too long, resisting all the usual remedies. I sat on the edge of her bed, and she immediately latched onto my arm, pressing her cheek against it. Looking for comfort, or maybe just showing possession. With Susan, it was often hard to tell the difference. "We'll find you a doctor," I assured her. "Cole is making arrangements." She sighed, relaxing slightly. Then she sat up, deliberately shifting in a way that made her silk nightgown slide down. The thin strap fell away, exposing her bare breast. I caught the flash of pale skin, the dark nipple, before turning my head. "You shouldn't do that," I said quietly. "Is she still in your heart?" Susan's voice took on the hard edge it always did when she thought of Evelyn. "It's been years, and she'll never come back! Why do you make me feel like I'm not enough?" The old argument, one I was tired of having. I stood, putting distance between us. "I don't permit you to speak of my mate in that manner," I said, my voice cooler than I intended. "Your mate?" Susan laughed, a brittle sound. "You divorced her, remember? Banished her. She's nothing to you now." I didn't answer. Couldn't. Because the truth was, I didn't know what Evelyn was to me anymore. Ex-mate, officially. But the bond had never fully broken, not really. I still felt her absence like a physical ache some days. "I heard of a highly skilled pack doctor," I said instead, changing the subject. "I'll book you an appointment and you'll be fine in no time." I left before she could respond, closing the door firmly behind me. In the hallway, I leaned against the wall for a moment, eyes closed, trying to get my thoughts in order. Five years since I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Five years of living with the consequences. And now, on Ava's birthday, the past felt closer than ever. I pushed off from the wall and headed back toward my office. I still had a pack to run. But first, I needed to find Ava. To... not to apologize, exactly. But to check on her. Make sure she was okay. It was her birthday, after all. And whatever else she might or might not be to me, she deserved that much. * * * Chapter 8 Evelyn Blood stuck to my gloves, making my fingers tacky. This patient's blood seemed different somehow—darker, thicker than usual. I dropped the scalpel onto the metal tray the nurse held out. My back hurt. Six hours hunched over an operating table will do that to you. "Sutures," I said, and Rachel handed them over without me having to explain which kind. After two years working together, she knew what I needed before I asked. The patient's chest moved up and down steadily. He'd make it—though it had been touch and go for a while. The tumor had wrapped around his pulmonary artery like it was hanging on for dear life. But I was more stubborn than any growth. I tied off the last stitch and stood up straight, rolling my shoulders. Something popped in my neck. "Close him up and get him to recovery," I told the team. "I want updates every hour on his vitals." Rachel nodded. The other nurses and surgical assistants looked relieved. Another win for Dr. Graham. Another life saved. If only they knew how many I'd lost. The thought came out of nowhere, followed by a sound I only heard in my memory now—a baby crying. Small but loud, like she knew what she wanted. I shut my eyes, trying to push it away. Five years later, and it still hit me at random moments. During surgery. In the middle of grocery shopping. Right as I was falling asleep. "Dr. Graham?" Rachel's voice pulled me back. "You okay?" I opened my eyes and forced a smile. "Just tired. Let's finish up." Later, I stood at the sink in the break room, scrubbing under my fingernails. No matter how many pairs of gloves I wore, blood always found its way there somehow. I grabbed a can of water from the mini-fridge and gulped half of it down, suddenly realizing how thirsty I was. Surgery did that—made me forget about everything except the body in front of me. A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped, spilling water on my scrubs. "Whoa, sorry about that." Mr. Robins stood behind me, his face creasing with a smile. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you." I wiped at the water stain spreading across my shirt. "It's fine. I'm always jumpy after a long surgery." "I bet. Heard it was a tough one." He leaned against the counter. For a guy in his sixties, Robins stayed fit. Only his silver hair gave away his age. "But you pulled it off, as usual." I shrugged. I never knew what to do with compliments. "We'll see how he does in recovery before I start celebrating." "Always so careful." His smile got bigger. "That's why you're so good at this. Never settling, always pushing." I looked away from his approving face. Robins had been on my side since I'd stumbled into Wood Pack territory five years ago with nothing but the clothes I had on and a medical degree I'd never gotten to use. He took a chance on me when nobody else would, and I'd worked my ass off to prove him right. "That tumor you removed last month is all over the medical blogs," he said, showing me his tablet. The screen showed an article about a tricky surgery I'd done. "It's given us a chance to show everyone how good you are, Evelyn." "I was just doing my job," I said, though part of me liked the recognition. "You've made yourself important here." His expression softened. "I remember when you first applied for the position—no references, just raw talent and determination." Something in his voice made me look up. Robins never mentioned how desperate I must have seemed when I first arrived at Wood Pack—hungry for work, for purpose, for anything to fill the emptiness. "Thanks," I said, meaning it. "For everything. I wouldn't be here if not for you." He waved it off. "I know talent when I see it. But I didn't come here just to tell you how great you are." He straightened up, his face turning more serious. "I've got news." "Yeah?" "Because of your reputation, we got a request from another pack. Their Alpha needs someone to treat a person close to him—a complicated case their doctors can't figure out." A weird feeling crawled up my back. "Which pack?" "Moon Pack." Two words, and suddenly the floor wasn't solid anymore. Moon Pack. Damon's territory. The place I used to call home. The place that had the one thing I never stopped aching for. Ava. "I—I can't," I managed. "Send someone else." Robins frowned. "Is there a problem? This could be a good connection for us. Moon Pack is one of the strongest around." I hesitated, searching for an excuse. "I'm in the middle of several critical cases right now. Dr. Mercer could—" "This request came specifically for you," Robins interrupted. "They've heard about your work." He studied my face, noticing my discomfort. "Is there something else?" I shook my head quickly. "No, it's just... timing." He looked unconvinced. "Would it help to know you'd be under my protection? As Wood Pack's Alpha, I'd make sure you were safe during the visit. Moon Pack can be... territorial." My brain went into overdrive. Going back to Moon Pack was the last thing I wanted. Seeing Damon again, facing all those memories, all that shame. But... Ava. My daughter would be five now. Five years without seeing her face, hearing her voice. Did she even know who I was? Did she ask about me? Or had Damon erased me completely? "Who's the patient?" I asked, stalling. "The Alpha didn't say exactly. Just someone important to him who's been sick for months. Not responding to regular treatments." Someone important to him. My heart lurched. Ava? Could my daughter be sick? The thought made my stomach drop. No, I doubted it was her. Damon had made it clear she wasn't his—had banished me and kept her just to hurt me. He wouldn't seek out the best doctor for a child he'd claimed wasn't his. Then again, I knew Damon. For all his pride and stubbornness, he wasn't cruel, especially not to children. If Ava was sick, he would get her help, regardless of what he believed about her parentage. But it could just as easily be Susan. The idea sent a wave of bitterness through me. Was I really thinking about helping the woman who stole my mate, my position, my life? But if I said no, I'd be giving up the chance to see my daughter. Maybe even the chance to... No. I couldn't let myself hope. Damon made his choice five years ago. Nothing would change that. "When would we go?" I heard myself ask. "Next week. I'll handle everything." Robins squeezed my shoulder. "This is good, Evelyn. For both of us." I nodded, not trusting my voice. As soon as he left, I sagged against the counter, my legs suddenly weak. Moon Pack. I was going back to Moon Pack. "Get it together," I whispered to myself. "It's just a medical thing." But nothing about Moon Pack could ever be "just" anything to me. Not when it had my past. My child. My heart. I pulled out my phone, my hands not quite steady as I searched for news about Damon. There wasn't much—he'd always been private—but I found a few official photos from pack events. He looked the same. Good-looking. Powerful. Cold. And there, next to him in several pictures, was Susan. Every inch the Luna in fancy dresses, her hand on his arm like she owned him. My stomach twisted at the sight. No pictures of Ava. Of course not. Pack kids were kept out of the public eye for safety. Was she happy? Did she like school? Did she have friends? All the questions I should know the answers to flooded my mind, bringing back grief I thought I'd buried years ago. Yesterday had been her birthday. Five years old now. I'd marked it the same way I did every year—a small cupcake with a single candle, lit in my apartment with no one to see the tears that followed. I kept the only photo I had of her—a hospital snapshot of her tiny red face, tubes helping her breathe—tucked in my wallet, worn from the countless times I'd traced her features with my fingertip. Five birthdays I'd missed. Five candles I'd blown out alone, whispering wishes that never came true. I put my phone down, suddenly unable to look at Damon's face anymore. The break room felt too small. I needed air. In the hallway, I almost ran into another doctor. "Sorry," I mumbled, trying to step around him. "Dr. Graham!" His voice stopped me. "I was just looking for you. The woman in 307 is asking for you." I blinked, dragging my mind back to reality. "Mrs. Wilson? I thought Dr. Peters was handling her." "She insisted on seeing you." He shrugged. "Said you're the only one who actually listens." That pulled a small smile from me despite everything. "Tell her I'll be there in ten minutes. I just need some fresh air first." Outside, the evening air felt cool on my face. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. One week. In one week, I'd be back in the place that broke me, face to face with the people who did the breaking. But no one here knew that part of my story. To Robins and the others at Wood Pack, I was just Dr. Graham, the surgeon who'd shown up five years ago looking for work. I'd never told them where I came from or why. Never mentioned Moon Pack, or Damon, or the daughter I'd been forced to leave behind. I'd be stupid to pass up this chance. Five years of dreaming about my daughter, wondering if she was okay, if she even remembered me. A piece of paper fluttered against my leg, caught by the wind. I bent to pick it up, recognizing Robins' handwriting: "Dinner at my place, by 7 ~ Robins" I checked my watch. 6:30. Just enough time to see Mrs. Wilson and then head over. Robins lived in the Alpha house in the center of Wood Pack territory, a big place where he often had staff over for dinner. I squared my shoulders and went back inside. I had a patient to check on, then dinner to get to. The rest—Moon Pack, Damon, Ava, Susan—would have to wait. But as I walked, a thought took shape in the back of my mind. This wasn't just a medical job. This was my chance—maybe my only chance—to see my daughter again. And maybe, whispered a darker part of me, a chance to even the score. * * *