When the Alpha Chose His Pack Over His Mate Chapter 13

When the Alpha Chose His Pack Over His Mate Chapter 13

Sky Harris was growing increasingly dissatisfied with Rowen Watson’s recent distracted state. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t the same as he used to be. Still, their marking ceremony was just around the corner, and she consoled herself with the thought that her future would soon be secure.

The Watson pack house had undergone a complete transformation over the past two months, from the grand hall to the private chambers, all meticulously refurbished. Sky had already fully assumed her role as the future Luna, and the pack members followed her every instruction with cautious deference.

With only three days left until the ceremony, Rowen returned from his duties and stepped into the backyard, only to be met with the sound of fabric being torn. He found Sky standing there, scissors in hand, cutting into a crimson gown with reckless abandon.

“Rowen, you’re back!” she chirped, her voice bright but tinged with something sharp. “This old marking dress is so outdated. It’s just taking up space. The fabric is decent, though. I thought I’d repurpose it for a new skirt. It’ll look stunning, don’t you think?”

Rowen’s expression faltered, a pang of pain tightening in his chest. “Wait—” he started, but it was too late. The gown, the one I had painstakingly embroidered years ago, was already in pieces.

Sky didn’t stop, her lips curling into a pout. “We’re about to have our marking ceremony. Everything should be new and fresh. What’s the point of holding onto old things?”

Rowen watched, helpless, as she snipped through the delicate stitching at the collar, the one that had once carried the symbols of eternal unity. His heart clenched, a wave of regret washing over him.

Just then, a pack member rushed in, interrupting the scene.
“Alpha, the team sent to Ivy’s last known location has returned.”

Rowen’s attention snapped to the messenger. He barely glanced back at Sky before striding out of the room. Moments later, the messenger stood in the study, his face weathered from the journey.

“Alpha, we searched everywhere in the area—her relatives’ homes, old acquaintances—but we couldn’t find her,” he reported, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Rowen’s brows furrowed. “I only asked you to deliver some supplies. How could you fail at such a simple task? Did you check her parents’ graves?”

“We did. The locals said she hasn’t been back to visit them.”

Rowen froze, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. Had I been so upset that I’d vanished completely? No, I wasn’t the type to act so irrationally. I’d always been the dutiful mate, the one who held the pack together with quiet strength.

He believed, even if he’d told me he wanted to take another mate, I would have accepted it without complaint. That’s just who I was—gentle, accommodating, and endlessly devoted to him and the pack.

Lost in thought, Rowen barely noticed when Sky burst into the study, her energy electric. “Rowen, look! The marking dress from the Southern tailor just arrived. What do you think?” she asked, holding up the garment with pride.

Rowen’s gaze flickered briefly over it before he turned away, his voice flat. “It’s fine.”

Sky frowned, sensing his distance. “What’s wrong? Are you tired?”

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. “Just a lot on my mind with pack duties.”

Sky didn’t press further, instead launching into a detailed rundown of the ceremony preparations—the menu, the guest list, every last detail. Rowen half-listened, his mind elsewhere.

He wondered, would I hate him for this? For choosing Sky over me? But hadn’t I already known about his decision? The thought gnawed at him.

After the failed search, Rowen sent two more teams to look for me, but they returned empty-handed. His silence grew heavier, his thoughts darker. It struck him suddenly—my belongings were gone, as if I’d never been part of the pack at all.

As the ceremony drew closer, Rowen became increasingly stubborn. He called for Zen Hoffman, his Beta, and demanded, “Ivy’s always been obedient. She might have returned to the city. I told her not to come back to the pack house without my permission. Did she come to you?”

Zen wiped his brow, clearly uncomfortable. “Alpha, Ivy hasn’t contacted me.” Rowen nodded absently, then added, “She’s always been respectful. If she shows up tomorrow to congratulate us, don’t let anyone stop her. I’ll explain it to Sky.”

“Understood,” Zen replied.

“And,” Rowen continued, “redecorate the west wing to match the east wing’s old setup. When she comes back, she’ll need a familiar space.”

“But Alpha,” Zen hesitated, “Sky has already repurposed the west wing as a guest suite for her aunt’s upcoming visit.”

Rowen slammed his coffee cup onto the table, his frustration boiling over. “This is my pack. I’m just trying to keep a place for her. If she comes back and everything’s changed, how do you think she’ll feel?”

Zen, startled by his Alpha’s uncharacteristic outburst, stammered, “I’ll see to it immediately, Alpha.”

As the window curtain fluttered in the breeze, Rowen rose to close it. His gaze fell on the stack of books in the corner of the study—the ones I used to read. He walked over, picked one up, and flipped through the pages. It was dull, uninteresting. But then he stumbled upon my journal.

My handwriting, neat and delicate, filled the pages with my hopes and dreams for the pack. Wishes for his mother’s health, prayers for his success, every entry brimming with love and devotion.

With each page, Rowen’s chest tightened, his breath growing shallow. By the time he reached the end, his hands trembled, the journal nearly slipping from his grasp. He shouted, his voice laced with panic, ‘Someone, fetch Zen—now!’