The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth as another wave of agony tore through my abdomen. My wolf whimpered somewhere deep inside, a broken sound that echoed the fracturing of my very soul. This was the eighteenth time. Eighteen forced terminations. Eighteen times my body had been violated, my potential children ripped away before they could even form.

The stone bed beneath me was cold, unforgiving, much like the pack healer who stood over me with clinical detachment. Elder Moira's weathered hands moved with practiced efficiency, but I could see the concern creeping into her ancient eyes as she pressed a blood-soaked cloth against my lower abdomen.

"The bleeding won't stop," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But in the suffocating silence of the healing chamber, every word rang like a death knell.

My vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges. Through the haze, I heard the soft beep of Moira's communication device as she placed the call I'd been dreading.

"Alpha Ryker," her voice was steady, professional. "Your mate's condition is... critical. The procedure has caused severe hemorrhaging. She needs immediate—"

The voice that cut through the speaker was like ice water in my veins. Cold. Distant. Utterly devoid of any emotion that might suggest he cared whether I lived or died.

"Is she dead yet?"

Four words. Four simple words that shattered what remained of my already broken heart.

Moira's intake of breath was sharp, audible even through my fading consciousness. "Alpha, she's your mate. She needs—"

"Answer the question, Moira." Ryker's tone carried that familiar edge of authority that had once made me feel protected. Now it only made me feel like prey. "Is she dead?"

"No, but—"

"Then don't call me again until she is."

The line went dead.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Moira, who had served this pack for over a century, seemed stunned by the casual cruelty in her Alpha's words. I felt her hand tremble slightly as she pressed another cloth to my wound.

But I wasn't shocked. Not anymore. This was who Ryker had become. This was who he'd always been, underneath the facade I'd been too young and too foolish to see through.

As my life ebbed away, my mind drifted back to the beginning. To when I was eight years old and still believed in fairy tales.

I could see it so clearly now—the grand hall of my father's estate, filled with the warm glow of chandeliers and the laughter of allied pack leaders. I'd been hiding behind one of the massive marble pillars, watching the adults in their formal attire, when he'd found me.

Ryker had been twenty-five then, already an Alpha, already carrying himself with that dangerous confidence that would later prove to be my downfall. But to my eight-year-old eyes, he'd seemed like something out of a storybook—tall and strong, with those piercing gray eyes that seemed to see everything.

"What are you doing hiding back here, little wolf?" he'd asked, crouching down to my level with an amused smile.

I'd been too shy to answer, but he hadn't seemed to mind. Instead, he'd reached into his jacket and pulled out a delicate silver chain, from which hung a crescent moon pendant that caught the light like captured starfire.

"This is for you," he'd said, fastening it around my small neck with gentle fingers. "When you're older, this will protect you. A promise from me to you."

I'd touched the pendant reverently, my young heart swelling with something I didn't yet understand. "Will you really protect me?"

His smile had been warm then, genuine. "Always, Ivy. I promise."

What a lie that had turned out to be.

The memory shifted, fast-forwarding twelve years to the night that destroyed everything. I was twenty, wearing that same silver pendant, standing in the doorway of another grand ballroom. But this time, the atmosphere was different. Tense. Dangerous.

Ryker was doubled over near the refreshment table, his face pale and slick with sweat. Someone had poisoned him—a rival pack's attempt at assassination. The wolfsbane in his system was driving his wolf into a frenzy, and without an outlet, it would kill him.

Harper, his childhood friend and the woman everyone expected him to choose as his Luna, stood frozen in horror as Ryker's condition deteriorated. She loved him, that much was obvious, but she was terrified of his wolf in this state.

I hadn't hesitated. Clutching the moon pendant he'd given me all those years ago, I'd approached him with the naive belief that love could conquer anything.

"Ryker," I'd whispered, touching his fevered forehead. "Let me help you."

What followed was a night of passion born from desperation, not love. His wolf had claimed me, marked me, bound us together in ways that couldn't be undone. And in my foolish heart, I'd thought it meant something.

The next morning, Harper had found us tangled in the sheets, my neck bearing Ryker's claiming mark. The look of betrayal and devastation on her face still haunted me. She'd run from the room, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I'd tried to follow.

But I never caught up to her. None of us did.

They found Harper's body three hours later, torn apart by rogue wolves in the forest. She'd been running blind, heartbroken, and had stumbled into their territory.

Ryker blamed me. For Harper's death. For the bond that trapped him. For existing.

And for the past five years, he'd made sure I paid for it. Over and over again.

The heart monitor's steady beeping was growing fainter now, more erratic. Moira's voice seemed to come from very far away as she called for assistance, but I knew it was too late.

As the darkness closed in around me, my last coherent thought was a desperate wish: *If I could do it all over again, I would never have fallen in love with him. I would never have saved him that night.*

The long, flat tone of the heart monitor filled the room.

Then, suddenly, I was gasping.

My eyes flew open, and instead of the sterile healing chamber, I found myself staring at an ornate ceiling I recognized all too well. The scent hit me immediately—expensive cologne mixed with wolfsbane and the musk of an Alpha in distress.

I sat up abruptly, my heart racing, and turned to see him.

Ryker lay on the bed beside me, his shirt unbuttoned and clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. His face was contorted in pain, his breathing labored. The same gray eyes that had haunted my nightmares were now clouded with fever and the effects of the poison coursing through his system.

This was the hotel suite. The night everything went wrong. The night that started my five years of hell.

I was twenty again.

And somehow, impossibly, I had been given a second chance.

The shock hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. My hands trembled as I touched my face, my neck, my body—everything was whole, unmarked by the years of torment I'd just endured. The silver pendant hung around my neck, cool against my skin, exactly as it had been that night twelve years ago when Ryker first gave it to me.

My wolf stirred within me, and I gasped at the sensation. She was strong again, vibrant, not the broken creature who had whimpered her last breath in that cold healing chamber. Her presence filled the hollow spaces inside me that had been empty for so long.

*We're alive,* she whispered, wonder and confusion threading through her mental voice. *How are we alive?*

I didn't have an answer. All I knew was that somehow, impossibly, I'd been given another chance. And this time, I wouldn't waste it.

Ryker's groan pulled my attention back to the present. He was writhing on the bed beside me, his shirt plastered to his chest with sweat, his breathing ragged and labored. The wolfsbane coursing through his system was driving his wolf to the edge of madness, just as it had before. In my previous life, I had thrown myself at him without hesitation, desperate to save the man I thought I loved.

What a fool I'd been.

I slid off the bed, my legs unsteady but strong. Twenty years old again, with all the knowledge of what was to come. The irony wasn't lost on me—I finally had the power to change everything, and all I wanted was to walk away.

But I couldn't. Not yet. Because if I left him here to die, Harper would still blame herself. She'd still run into the forest in her grief, still die at the hands of those rogues. And despite everything Ryker had put me through, I couldn't let that happen to her. She was innocent in all of this.

My phone sat on the nightstand where I'd left it, and I grabbed it with shaking fingers. Harper's number was still in my contacts, saved under a heart emoji that now seemed like mockery. I pressed call before I could lose my nerve.

It rang twice before her sweet voice answered, cautious and confused. "Ivy? It's past midnight. Is everything okay?"

I closed my eyes, steeling myself for what I had to do. "Harper, listen to me carefully. Ryker is in room 208 at the Moonrise Hotel. He's been poisoned with wolfsbane, and he's going to die if someone doesn't help him soon."

Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken questions. When she finally spoke, her voice was small, uncertain. "Why are you calling me? Why aren't you with him? Everyone knows you've been following him around for months, trying to get his attention..."

The words stung because they were true. I had been pathetic, hadn't I? Chasing after a man who barely acknowledged my existence, convinced that the bond I felt was real, that it meant something. I'd been so young, so naive.

"Because he doesn't need me," I said, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "He needs you. He's always needed you, Harper. You're the one he loves."

Another pause, this one filled with the sound of rustling fabric and hurried footsteps. "I... I don't understand. You've been in love with him since we were children. Everyone knows—"

"I was wrong," I interrupted, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I confused gratitude with love, childhood infatuation with something real. But it wasn't real, Harper. It never was."

Ryker's breathing grew more labored behind me, and I knew we were running out of time.

"Please," I whispered into the phone. "Just come. Room 208. He needs you to ground his wolf, to give him something to fight for. And Harper? Don't let anyone else come with you. This is between you and him."

I hung up before she could respond, before the tears threatening to spill could choke off my words.

Fifteen minutes later, I heard the soft knock at the door. I opened it to find Harper standing in the hallway, her dark hair disheveled from sleep, her eyes wide with worry and confusion. She was beautiful in that effortless way that had always made me feel invisible beside her—delicate features, kind eyes, the sort of warmth that drew people like moths to flame.

"Ivy, I don't understand what's happening," she said, trying to peer past me into the room. "Why did you call me? Where is he?"

I stepped aside, letting her see Ryker writhing on the bed, his face contorted with pain. Her sharp intake of breath was audible, and I saw the exact moment her confusion transformed into fierce determination.

"The wolfsbane is driving his wolf insane," I explained quietly. "He needs an anchor, someone his wolf trusts completely. Someone he loves."

Harper's gaze snapped to mine, searching for deception, for some hidden motive. "But you... everyone thinks you two are..."

"Everyone is wrong," I said firmly. "They always have been. He doesn't love me, Harper. He loves you. He's always loved you. I was just too blind to see it."

She stared at me for a long moment, and I could see her trying to process this shift, this sudden change in the dynamics she thought she understood. Finally, she nodded and moved toward the bed.

I caught her arm gently as she passed. "Harper? After tonight... after you save him... don't let him push you away. Don't let him convince you that duty is more important than love. Fight for him, because he's too stubborn to fight for himself."

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she squeezed my hand. "Ivy, I'm so sorry. I never meant to come between—"

"You didn't," I said, managing a smile that felt like breaking glass. "You were never the one standing between us. I was standing between you."

I stepped back, giving her space to enter the room fully. As she moved toward Ryker, I began to close the door, but her voice stopped me.

"Where are you going?"

I looked at her one last time—this woman who would have been my rival in another life, who was instead my salvation in this one. "Somewhere I should have gone a long time ago. Somewhere I can finally be free."

I closed the door softly and pressed my back against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the hallway floor. Through the thin walls, I could hear Harper's gentle voice as she tried to soothe Ryker's wolf, the rustle of fabric, the gradual quieting of his pained breathing.

Tears fell silently down my cheeks, but for the first time in years—in two lifetimes—they weren't tears of despair. They were tears of relief, of liberation, of finally letting go of a dream that had been my nightmare.

My phone buzzed in my hand. A text from my father, sent just minutes ago: "Ivy, are you awake? I have something important to discuss with you. There's an opportunity in Europe, with the Continental Wolf Council. A fresh start, if you want it."

I stared at the message, remembering how in my previous life, I'd ignored this text, too consumed with Ryker to care about anything else. But now...

Now it felt like a lifeline.

I typed back quickly: "I'm interested. When do we leave?"

His response came immediately: "Tomorrow, if you're ready. There's someone there who's been asking about you, Ivy. Someone who thinks you might be exactly what their pack needs."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the door. Behind it, the sounds had grown quieter, more intimate. Harper was saving him, just as I knew she would. Just as she was meant to.

And for the first time in five years—or twenty, depending on how you counted—I was free.

The morning light filtered through my bedroom curtains, casting long shadows across the floor where I knelt beside an open suitcase. My hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them inside with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this countless times before. But this time was different. This time, I wasn't running away—I was choosing to leave.

The cardboard box beside me held the remnants of a foolish girl's dreams. Letters I'd written but never sent, photos I'd secretly taken at pack gatherings, pressed flowers from walks where I'd imagined he might notice me someday. And at the bottom, wrapped in tissue paper like some precious relic, lay the silver crescent moon pendant.

I lifted it carefully, the chain catching the morning light. Such a small thing to have caused so much pain. In my previous life, I'd worn it until the very end, even as Ryker's indifference slowly killed me. Even as he forced me to lose child after child, I'd clutched this pendant like a talisman, believing somehow that the boy who'd given it to me still existed somewhere beneath the monster he'd become.

What a fool I'd been.

The pendant felt heavier now, weighted with the knowledge of what it truly represented—not love, but pity. Not a promise, but a pretty lie told to a lonely child. I placed it gently in the box with the rest of my delusions.

A sharp knock at my door made me freeze. The scent that drifted through the wood was unmistakable—pine and leather, with an undertone of something darker now. Something that smelled like another woman's perfume.

"Ivy." His voice carried that familiar note of authority, the one that used to make my heart race. Now it just made me tired. "I know you're in there. Open the door."

I stood slowly, my knees protesting after kneeling for so long. My reflection in the vanity mirror showed a young woman with steady eyes and calm features—nothing like the desperate, broken creature I'd been in my previous life. This time, I was in control.

When I opened the door, Ryker stood in the hallway looking exactly as I remembered from that night. His dark hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled, and there were faint red marks along his throat that definitely hadn't been there before. Harper's marks. Good. At least something had gone right.

His gray eyes swept over me, searching for something I no longer possessed. "You left," he said, and there was an odd note in his voice I couldn't quite identify. "Last night, you just... left."

"Yes," I replied simply. "I did."

He stepped closer, and I caught the full force of his scent—Harper's sweetness clinging to his skin like a second layer. It should have hurt. In my previous life, it would have destroyed me. Now I felt nothing but a distant sort of satisfaction.

"You're avoiding me," he accused, his eyes narrowing as they took in my packed belongings visible through the doorway.

I tilted my head, considering his words. "No, Ryker叔叔. I'm not avoiding you. I'm simply moving on."

The effect was immediate and electric. He went completely still, his entire body tensing as if I'd struck him. "What did you call me?"

"叔叔," I repeated calmly, using the formal address I'd abandoned years ago when my foolish heart had convinced me we were equals, that we could be something more. "Uncle Ryker. It's appropriate, don't you think? You're my father's ally, his friend. You've known me since I was a child. Uncle is the proper way to address you."

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, and his hand shot out to brace against the doorframe, effectively caging me in. "You haven't called me that in years."

"I know," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "It was presumptuous of me to use your given name so casually. I apologize for the impropriety."

His jaw clenched, and I could see his wolf stirring beneath the surface, agitated by my sudden formality. "Cut the act, Ivy. What game are you playing?"

"No game." I stepped back, putting distance between us, and gestured toward the box of memories. "I wanted to congratulate you on your mating with Harper. She's perfect for you—kind, gentle, everything a Luna should be. You two will be very happy together."

Ryker's gaze followed mine to the box, and his expression grew thunderous as he recognized its contents. "What is that?"

"Spring cleaning," I said lightly. "Getting rid of things I no longer need."

He pushed past me into the room, his movements sharp and predatory. When he saw the pendant lying on top of the pile, his face went white. "You're throwing this away?"

"I'm throwing it all away," I confirmed, watching as he lifted the necklace with trembling fingers. "Childhood keepsakes have no place in an adult's life."

"This isn't just a keepsake," he said, his voice rough. "I gave this to you. I promised—"

"You promised to protect me," I interrupted, and for the first time, a note of steel entered my voice. "But we both know how well you keep your promises, don't we?"

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken history. In my previous life, this would have been the moment I broke down, the moment I begged him to love me, to choose me. But that girl was dead, buried beneath years of pain and betrayal.

Ryker set the pendant down carefully, as if it might shatter. When he looked at me again, his eyes held a darkness I remembered all too well. "You think you can just... change your mind? Decide you don't want this anymore? It doesn't work that way, Ivy."

"Doesn't it?" I asked, genuinely curious. "People change their minds all the time. They grow up, they realize their mistakes, they choose different paths."

"You've been in love with me since you were eight years old," he said, stepping closer again. His voice dropped to that low, dangerous tone that had once made me weak in the knees. "You think you can just turn that off? Pretend it never existed?"

I studied his face—the sharp cheekbones, the full lips, the eyes that had haunted my dreams and nightmares alike. Once, I would have done anything to have him look at me with even a fraction of this intensity. Now I saw it for what it truly was: not love, but possession. Not passion, but control.

"You're right," I said quietly. "I did love you. For twelve years, I loved you with everything I had. But love isn't meant to be a prison, Ryker叔叔. It's not meant to hurt."

His hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. "So you're just going to throw it all away? Everything we could have had?"

I reached up and gently removed his hand from my face, my touch light but firm. "We never had anything. You made that very clear."

"That's not—" He stopped, his jaw working as if he was struggling with words that wouldn't come.

"You chose Harper," I continued, my voice steady and sure. "You chose her last night, just as you should have. She's your mate in every way that matters—your equal, your partner, your other half. I was never those things to you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, but there was something almost desperate in his tone now.

I picked up the box of memories, holding it against my chest like a shield. "I know exactly what I'm talking about. I know that you look at her the way I always dreamed you'd look at me. I know that you'd move heaven and earth to protect her, while you'd watch me burn without lifting a finger."

His face went ashen, and I knew my words had hit their mark.

"I also know," I continued, moving toward the door, "that you're going to be happy with her in a way you could never be with me. And that's exactly as it should be."

Ryker moved to block my path, his expression shifting from anger to something that might have been panic. "Where are you going?"

"Away," I said simply. "Far enough that I won't be a complication in your life anymore."

"You think you can just run away? Start over somewhere else and forget this ever happened?"

I looked up at him one last time, this man who had shaped so much of my life, who had been both my greatest dream and my worst nightmare. "I'm not running away, Ryker叔叔. I'm choosing myself for the first time in my life."

I stepped around him, my movements calm and deliberate. "I truly hope you and Harper will be happy. You deserve each other—in the best possible way."

As I reached the doorway, his voice stopped me one final time. "Ivy."

I turned back, and for a moment, I saw something in his eyes that might have been regret. Or perhaps it was just the light.

"The pendant," he said quietly. "Keep it. Please."

I shook my head, a small smile playing at my lips. "Some gifts are meant to be returned, Uncle Ryker. This is one of them."

And with that, I walked away, leaving him standing in my empty room with a box full of a dead girl's dreams.