The realization that Aiden remembered our past life should have terrified me. Instead, as I walked through the corridors of the pack house, I found myself almost... relieved.

His rejection, while it stung with familiar pain, was actually the key to my freedom.

I paused by a window overlooking the gardens, watching servants scurry about preparing for tonight's welcome feast. In my previous life, I had spent weeks agonizing over what Aiden's arrival meant, dreaming foolish dreams about fate and destiny. Now I could see the situation with crystal clarity.

If Aiden pursued Seraphine—which his lingering gaze at her had already confirmed he would—then the political marriage my family was orchestrating would fall apart naturally. Alpha Thorne couldn't very well force me into a union with a man who was publicly courting my half-sister. It would be a humiliation he'd never recover from.

Aiden's obsession with Seraphine was my ticket out of this place.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. "Come in," I called, turning from the window.

To my surprise, it wasn't a servant who entered, but Seraphine herself. Her golden hair was perfectly arranged, her silk dress the color of summer roses, but her expression was anything but serene.

"We need to talk," she said, closing the door behind her with more force than necessary.

I kept my face carefully neutral. "Of course. What about?"

Her green eyes narrowed as she studied me. "I saw you."

"Saw me doing what?"

"Don't play innocent with me, Elara." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I saw Aiden seeking you out after the introductions. I saw the way he looked at you."

My heart skipped, but I forced myself to remain calm. She must have been watching from somewhere when Aiden had cornered me in the empty corridor, when he'd made his demands and threats. But she couldn't have heard what was said—if she had, she'd know there was nothing for her to worry about.

"I don't know what you think you saw—"

"I saw enough." Her voice turned sharp as broken glass. "You're trying to steal him from me."

The accusation was so absurd I almost laughed. If only she knew that Aiden had spent those precious minutes warning me to stay away from him, threatening me with consequences if I interfered with his pursuit of her.

"Seraphine, I would never—"

"Wouldn't you?" She circled me like a predator, her silk skirts rustling. "You've always been jealous of me. Always wanted what I had. And now the most eligible Alpha heir in the southern territories is here, and you think this is your chance."

I met her gaze steadily. "Aiden Vale came here for you. Everyone knows that."

"Then why was he talking to you privately? Why did he look at you like..." She trailed off, her jaw clenching.

Like he knew me, I finished silently. Like he remembered.

"I don't know what you think you saw," I repeated, "but I assure you, I have no interest in interfering with your courtship."

It was the truth, but Seraphine's expression only grew more suspicious.

"Good," she said finally. "Because I won't let you ruin this for me. I won't let you take what's mine."

After she left, I sank into the chair by my window, my hands trembling slightly. I had forgotten how paranoid Seraphine could be, how her jealousy could twist even innocent interactions into threats. In my past life, her suspicion had made my existence miserable even before the mate bond ceremony.

This time, I would have to be even more careful.

The evening feast was a grand affair. The great hall had been transformed with silk banners in the Vale colors, and the long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fresh bread, and delicacies imported from across the territory. The air hummed with conversation and laughter as pack members mingled with their distinguished guests.

I had chosen my outfit carefully—a simple green dress that complemented my dark hair without being flashy enough to draw attention. I took my assigned seat at the far end of the high table, safely away from the center of attention where Seraphine held court beside Aiden.

From my vantage point, I could watch the elaborate dance of courtship playing out exactly as it had before. Seraphine was radiant, her laughter musical as she charmed the visiting Alpha heir. Aiden seemed genuinely captivated, his dark eyes following her every movement.

Perfect.

The evening progressed smoothly until the dancing began. As was traditional, Alpha Thorne opened the floor with his mate, followed by the other ranking members of both packs. I remained seated, content to observe from the sidelines.

That's when I noticed the servant approaching with a tray of wine glasses.

"For you, miss," the young woman said, offering me a crystal goblet filled with deep red wine.

I started to decline—I rarely drank at formal functions—but something in her nervous demeanor made me pause. Her hands shook slightly as she held the tray, and she avoided meeting my eyes.

"Thank you," I said, accepting the glass.

As the servant hurried away, I caught sight of Seraphine watching me from across the room. There was something in her expression—a anticipation that made my stomach clench with sudden dread.

I looked down at the wine in my hands, the deep red liquid catching the candlelight. It looked normal, smelled normal, but...

A memory surfaced from my past life. Not of this exact moment, but of other times when Seraphine's cruelty had been disguised as accidents or coincidences. The way she could orchestrate humiliation while keeping her own hands clean.

I should have set the glass down. Should have trusted my instincts.

Instead, habit and social conditioning won out. When Alpha Marcus Vale approached our table and raised his own glass in a toast to the alliance between our packs, I lifted mine along with everyone else.

The wine hit my tongue with a bitter aftertaste that definitely hadn't been there when I'd smelled it. By then, it was too late.

The world tilted sideways almost immediately. My vision blurred, and when I tried to stand, my legs betrayed me. The crystal goblet slipped from my suddenly nerveless fingers, and I watched in slow-motion horror as it tumbled toward my white dress.

The red wine splashed across the pristine fabric like blood, staining the silk beyond redemption. But worse than the ruined dress was the way I stumbled, my drug-addled reflexes failing me as I crashed into the table behind me, sending plates and glasses clattering to the floor.

The great hall fell silent.

Every eye turned toward me as I stood there swaying, wine dripping from my dress, my face burning with humiliation. The whispers started immediately—cruel, cutting observations about my clumsiness, my inability to handle her drink, my obvious attempt to draw attention to myself.

Through the haze of whatever Seraphine had slipped into my wine, I saw Aiden watching from the dance floor. For a moment, our eyes met across the crowded room. I saw recognition there—not just of who I was, but of what was happening. He knew this was deliberate. He knew Seraphine was behind it.

And he did nothing.

He simply turned away, leading Seraphine back into the dance as if I didn't exist.

Just like before. Just like it had always been.

I stood there in the center of the ballroom, wine staining my dress and dignity in tatters, while the pack that should have protected me laughed at my downfall.

But this time, instead of tears, I felt only cold, crystalline resolve.

Let them laugh. Let Seraphine have her moment of triumph.

I would remember this. And when the time came to leave this place forever, I would remember exactly why I could never look back.

The days following the feast blurred together in a haze of humiliation and cold determination. Word of my "drunken display" had spread through the pack like wildfire, each retelling more embellished than the last. By the third day, I had supposedly thrown myself at Aiden's feet, begging him to choose me over Seraphine.

The lies should have hurt more than they did.

Instead, each whispered insult, each pitying look, each cruel laugh only strengthened the wall of ice forming around my heart. I had lived through this before—the slow erosion of dignity, the systematic destruction of my place in the pack. But this time, I wasn't a naive girl hoping things would get better.

This time, I was planning my escape.

I spent my mornings in the pack library, ostensibly studying healing herbs but actually researching the northern territories. Which packs were accepting refugees. Which routes were safest for lone wolves. How much coin I would need to start over somewhere far from here.

My afternoons were spent with my mother, helping her tend to her small garden behind the pack house. Lydia had grown quieter since the feast, her worried glances following me wherever I went. She knew something had changed in me, but she didn't ask questions I wasn't ready to answer.

"The lavender is blooming beautifully this year," she said softly, her fingers gentle as she pruned the purple stalks.

I knelt beside her, my hands working automatically while my mind calculated travel times and supply costs. "It is. We should harvest some for sachets before the first frost."

"Elara." Her voice was careful, controlled. "About what happened at the feast..."

"It's forgotten," I lied smoothly. "These things happen."

She studied my profile, and I could feel the weight of her concern. "You've been different since that night. Distant."

I met her eyes, seeing my own dark hair and pale skin reflected in her features. In my past life, I had never noticed how much sadness she carried, how her smiles never quite reached her eyes.

"I'm fine, Mother. Just... learning to see things more clearly."

Before she could respond, the sharp click of heels on stone announced an unwelcome visitor. Seraphine appeared around the corner of the garden path, resplendent in a gown of pale yellow silk that made her look like captured sunlight.

"How domestic," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Playing in the dirt suits you, sister."

Lydia's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. In the pack hierarchy, Seraphine outranked us both.

"Did you need something?" I asked, not bothering to stand or brush the soil from my hands.

Seraphine's green eyes glittered with malicious pleasure. "Actually, yes. I wanted to personally invite you to tomorrow's hunt."

My blood turned to ice. "Hunt?"

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Her smile was razor-sharp. "I've organized a special competition for our visiting Alphas. An old tradition—Alpha's Hunt. The bravest wolves will chase prey through the forest, and whoever catches their quarry wins a prize."

The way she said 'prey' made my skin crawl. "How... traditional."

"Isn't it?" Seraphine stepped closer, her perfume cloying in the afternoon air. "Of course, we needed suitable prey for such distinguished hunters. Something... challenging."

The realization hit me like a physical blow. "No."

"Oh yes." Her voice was pure silk wrapped around steel. "You'll be the prize, dear sister. Whoever catches you gets to keep you."

Lydia shot to her feet, soil scattering from her skirts. "Seraphine, that's barbaric. Elara is not some animal to be hunted."

"Isn't she?" Seraphine's laugh was musical and cruel. "She's unwed, unclaimed, and frankly, becoming quite the burden on the pack. This way, she'll finally serve a useful purpose."

"The pack council would never approve such a thing," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Wouldn't they?" Seraphine pulled a scroll from her sleeve, unfurling it with theatrical flourish. "Alpha Thorne's seal. The visiting Alphas were quite enthusiastic about the idea when I proposed it. Apparently, it's been centuries since anyone organized a proper hunt."

I stared at the official seal, my father's signature stark black against the parchment. He had signed away my freedom, my safety, my very life for the entertainment of his guests.

"The hunt begins at dawn," Seraphine continued, her voice bright with false cheer. "You'll have a head start, of course. We're not completely unreasonable. But after that..." She shrugged delicately. "May the best Alpha win."

She turned to leave, then paused, looking back over her shoulder. "Oh, and Elara? Do try to put up a good fight. It's so much more entertaining when the prey struggles."

After she was gone, Lydia and I stood in stunned silence among the lavender and herbs. The peaceful garden suddenly felt like a cage, the pack house looming over us like a prison.

"We have to stop this," Lydia whispered, her face pale as parchment.

"How?" The word came out harsher than I intended. "You saw the seal. Father has already decided."

"I'll talk to him. I'll make him see reason."

I caught her hand, squeezing gently. "Mother, when has Alpha Thorne ever changed his mind once it's made? Especially when it involves choosing between his acknowledged daughter and his wife's bastard?"

The cruel words hung between us, but they were true. We both knew it.

That evening, Lydia did try to speak with Alpha Thorne. I heard their voices through the walls of his study—her pleading, his dismissive responses. When she emerged an hour later, her eyes were red-rimmed and defeated.

"He says it's already arranged," she said quietly. "The other Alphas are expecting it. To cancel now would be... insulting."

"And my life is less important than their entertainment."

She pulled me into her arms, holding me tight. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I'm so sorry."

I let her hold me, but my mind was already racing ahead to tomorrow.

In my past life, I had never faced anything like this—Seraphine's cruelties had been more subtle then, more psychological than physical.

But I should have expected her to escalate, especially with Aiden's obvious preference for her fueling her confidence.

The hunt would begin at dawn.

Would I be able to survive it?