The Alpha Betrayed Mate

THE DOUBLE QUESTION

5 Years Ago.

The roar came before Clay did.

Everyone in that room was terrified by it.

“Step back!” his voice thundered through the walls, raw with command and fear.

Zanny barely had time to turn her head before Clay burst onto the scene, the sword already drawn, moonlight flashing along its blade. His eyes took in the scene in a single breath. Selene froze in terror, the beast mid-pounce, death poised inches away.

But Zanny didn’t hesitate. She moved swiftly.

In one instinctive motion, she shoved Selene behind her and stepped forward, placing herself squarely between the beast and her friend. The creature launched itself with a savage snarl, claws slashing through the air where Selene had stood a heartbeat before.

“Zanny!” Clay shouted.

He struck the beast.

Steel met flesh with a brutal sound as Clay’s sword carved across the beast’s side. The creature howled, the sound sharp and furious, twisting midair as it hit the stone and spun toward him instead. Faster than any normal animal, it leapt again, claws raking deep into Clay’s shoulder.

Blood spilt, dark against his armour. If not that he had swerved, it would have been a fatal hit.

Clay grunted but did not fall, driving his weight forward, locking the beast away from the women. The two crashed against the wall, growls and snarls tearing through the night as teeth snapped inches from his throat.

Zanny’s heart hammered. Fear burned through her veins, and then something colder, steadier replaced it.

She pushed herself up from the stone floor, every movement deliberate despite the tremor in her hands. Her fingers closed around the short knife at her thigh, the metal cool, grounding.

She advanced while the beast reared back, preparing to strike Clay again. Clay steadied him, ready for another brace.

Zanny didn’t scream. She didn’t hesitate.

She drove the blade forward towards the beast.

The knife sank deep into the creature’s flank, buried to the side. The beast shrieked, it was a sound of shock more than pain, and wrenched itself free, blood splattering across the stone. Its glowing eyes met Zanny’s for a split second, something like recognition flashing through them.

Then it fled.

With a final, furious snarl, it vaulted backwards, crashing through the tall arched window in a storm, shattering it in the moonlight, disappearing into the forest beyond.

Silence fell hard and suddenly.

Clay staggered, bracing himself against the railing, blood seeping through his fingers. Selene rushed to him, hands shaking. Zanny stood frozen where she was, knife still clutched in her hand, chest heaving.

Clay looked at her, then really looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

Not as a Luna-to-be.

Not as something to protect.

But as a woman who had stood her ground between a monster and the people she loved.

“Are you hurt?” Clay asked, but Zanny was still in shock. She was not known to be a fighter, but she could not stand to see her friend killed.

“No!” exclaimed Selene. She was still panicking.

“Can you ask your friend if she was hurt by the beast?” Clay asked again

“Zanny! Zanny! Zanara Valour!” shouted Selene. It was as if the mention of her full name made her come back to reality.

“Yes, I-- I - - I mean no, I wasn’t hurt,” Zanny said.

“Take her to the clinic,” Clay ordered.

Footsteps thundered into the chamber, boots striking stone as the guards and warriors rushed in with weapons drawn, eyes wild and searching for blood. The scent of fear still clung to the air, sharp and metallic, mingled with the lingering trace of the beast.

Clay straightened despite the pain in his shoulder, forcing himself upright before they could see how badly he was hurt.

“Stand down,” he ordered, his voice steady even as his arm burned. “The threat is gone.”

The men hesitated, scanning the shattered window, the claw marks in the stone, the blood smeared across the floor. One of them swore under his breath.

“What happened, Clay?” another asked.

Clay sheathed his sword with a sharp motion. “A beast breached the outer wards. It targeted the women.” His gaze flicked briefly to Zanny, who still stood unmoving, the knife loose in her hand, her eyes distant. “It won’t return tonight.”

Murmurs rippled through the group. Some bowed their heads in respect, others tightened their grips on their weapons, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

“We have not seen a beast for two centuries,” said one of the men.

Selene moved then. She slipped her arm around Zanny’s shoulders with practised ease, gently prying the knife from her fingers. “She’s in shock,” Selene said softly, her voice full of concern. “She needs the clinic.”

Zanny didn’t protest. She barely seemed to hear. Her body followed when Selene guided her forward, her steps slow, unsteady, as if she were walking through water.

As they passed Clay, Selene paused.

Her fingers brushed his arm, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. She tilted her face up to him, eyes shining. “You were incredible,” she murmured, her voice low and intimate. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did…”

Clay stiffened. “Take care of her,” he said, his tone clipped, his gaze fixed on Zanny’s pale face.

Selene smiled, something subtle and unreadable flickering across her expression. “Of course,” she replied, tightening her hold on Zanny as she led her away.

Behind them, the men began sealing the chamber, barking orders and inspecting the damage. Glass crunched underfoot. The night slowly reclaimed its silence.

Zanny glanced back once, her eyes briefly meeting Clay’s across the ruined room. There was no accusation in her gaze, only shock, confusion, and a fragile strength he hadn’t known she possessed.

Then Selene guided her through the doors and down the corridor toward the clinic, her soft reassurances filling the space where Zanny’s thoughts could not yet reach.

The last of the broken windows was being swept aside when one of the warriors lingered behind. He was older than the rest, scarred by years of battle, his gaze sharp with the kind of perception that came from surviving too many nights like this one.

He waited until the others were out of earshot.

“Alpha,” he said carefully, lowering his voice, “did you notice… Selene?”

Clay didn’t look at him at first. He was still standing where Zanny had been moments earlier, staring at the bloodstain on the stone as if it might speak back to him.

“Notice what?” he asked.

The man hesitated, then shrugged. “The way she touched you. The way she looked at you.”

A few of the other warriors exchanged glances. One of them let out a quiet chuckle. “You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

Clay finally turned, his expression hard. “This isn’t the time.”

“No,” another man said, more serious now. “But it’s worth saying.”

Clay crossed his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. “Selene was shaken. Anyone would be.”

The older warrior shook his head slowly. “Shaken doesn’t look like that.”

Silence settled between them.

One of the younger men shifted his weight. “You know what they used to say about her husband,” he said hesitantly.

Clay’s eyes flicked to him. “Watch your words.”

“I’m not accusing,” the man replied quickly. “Just repeating what the elders whispered. That his death wasn’t bad luck or war… that Selene’s beauty draws trouble. That men forget caution around her.”

Another added, almost reluctantly, “Some said he died trying to prove something to her.”

Clay’s jaw tightened. “Enough.”

“But Zanny,” the older warrior said softly, “she didn’t hesitate. She stepped between the beast and Selene without a thought. That wasn’t training. That was instinct.”

A different silence followed that. Heavier. More dangerous.

Clay looked toward the corridor where Zanny had disappeared, something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Zanny is strong,” he said finally. “Stronger than any of you realize.”

“And Selene?” someone asked.

Clay didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was low. “Selene is… complicated.”

The men exchanged looks again, unease creeping into their expressions. One of them glanced toward the moonlit window, shattered glass still clinging to its frame.

“Complicated has a way of turning deadly,” the older warrior murmured.

Clay’s gaze sharpened, a chill running through him that had nothing to do with the night air.

Somewhere down the corridor, a distant door closed.

And Clay suddenly wondered which woman he should be more afraid for and which one he should be watching more closely.