Death had not been the end for me.

It had been a cruel joke.

The Moon Goddess, whether out of mercy or torment, had granted me another chance—a chance to rewrite my fate.

In my past life, I had been a fool. I had loved blindly, trusted recklessly. I had been chosen as the future Luna of the Waltz Pack, but on the day of my mating ceremony, Xander —the man I had given my heart to—abandoned me for Rhea.

The shock of betrayal had been too much for my grandmother, my only family, my only light. She collapsed that same night.

I had thought that was my lowest point. I was wrong.

Another man—my childhood friend, my sworn protector—Dante, had held my hand and whispered, "You still have me. I will never let you down."

I had believed him.

And then, I had married him.

I thought that was the end of my loneliness, that I had finally found someone who would never betray me.

But after I became his Luna, everything changed.

Dante grew distant. Cold.

At first, I told myself it was just the pressure of his role in the pack. He was the Beta, after all. He had responsibilities. He had wolves depending on him.

I reassured myself that his absence at dinner, his long nights away from home, and the way he barely met my gaze anymore weren’t personal. He was simply busy.

I made excuses for the silence between us, for the way his touch became rare, fleeting.

When we first married, he had been everywhere. I couldn’t take a step without feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, the weight of his gaze tracking my every move.

But as the weeks turned into months, that warmth faded.

And then, he stopped touching me at all.

I would wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. I would find his scent lingering by the door but never in our room.

I asked him once, just once—why he seemed so far away.

He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and muttered something about stress.

I told myself to be patient. That things would get better.

That he still loved me.

But deep down, I knew.

A mate should not feel like a stranger in their own home.

And then came the whispers.

At first, they were easy to ignore.

Wolves talking in hushed tones as I walked past. Eyes full of pity whenever I entered the main hall of the packhouse. The way the older she-wolves would lower their voices when I approached.

I didn’t want to listen.

I couldn’t listen.

Because if I did—if I let myself hear the words they weren’t saying to my face then I would have to face the truth.

And I wasn’t ready for that.

So I kept pretending.

I smiled when I was supposed to. I fulfilled my duties as the Beta’s Luna. I told myself that I was imagining things.

That Dante wasn’t pulling away from me.

That our bond wasn’t unraveling thread by thread.

That it was my fault.

I thought he regretted our lack of pups.

The way his expression tightened whenever a pack member announced a new pregnancy.

The way his laughter dimmed, just slightly, when another wolf proudly spoke about their mate carrying their heir.

The way his hand would tense in mine, his thumb ceasing its gentle strokes against my skin, his breathing just a little too controlled—too practiced.

I told myself it was nothing.

That I was reading too much into it.

That maybe he was just lost in thought, distracted by the weight of his responsibilities, by the countless burdens he carried as an Alpha.

But then I saw the way he barely reacted when someone teased him about when we would start our own family.

The easy grin that never quite reached his eyes.

The way he would brush it off with a chuckle, effortlessly redirecting the conversation—yet his shoulders would stiffen, his jaw locking in that way I had come to recognize as a silent battle within himself.

And I knew.

I knew.

He was mourning.

Even if he never spoke of it.

Even if he never voiced the words.

I saw the disappointment in his eyes when I bled each month, a silent reminder that I had failed to give him what he wanted.

What the pack expected.

I told myself that if I could just give him a pup, everything would be okay again.

That he would love me like he did before.

That he would come back to me.

So I tried.

I tried so hard.

I changed my diet. I drank the herbal teas the elder she-wolves whispered about. I visited the pack healer in secret, hoping for a solution.

And every night, I waited.

I waited for him to reach for me. To pull me close and want me like he used to.

But he never did.

Because he was already reaching for someone else.

The truth came in the form of a scent.

Feminine. Sweet. Familiar.

Clinging to his clothes when he returned home late one night.

It was subtle, almost hidden beneath the layers of his own scent, but I knew.

I knew.

Because a wolf never forgets a scent.

And I had smelled that scent before.

Rhea.

My childhood friend. My once-sister in all but blood.

I felt like I was suffocating.

I followed him the next night.

And the night after that.

I told myself I was being paranoid. That I was imagining things.

But then I saw it with my own eyes.

Dante.

The mate I had trusted.

The mate I had mated.

Holding her the way he used to hold me.

His lips on hers.

His hands gripping her waist.

And worst of all—

The way he looked at her.

Like she was his world.

Like I had never been.

I don’t remember walking away.

I don’t remember how I got home.

All I remember is the way my heart stopped beating that night.

Because the truth wasn’t just in the betrayal.

It was in the way he hadn’t even hesitated.

There was no guilt in his eyes. No hesitation in his touch.

Just desire.

Love.

And it wasn’t for me.

It had never been for me.

The next morning, I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream.

I didn’t confront him.

What was the point?

I had spent my life trusting too much.

Believing too much.

And where had it gotten me?

Alone.

Dante came home, kissed my cheek like he hadn’t just spent the night in her bed, and I let him.

But that didn’t stop the ache in my chest.

The night of the Blood Moon, I lay dying, gasping for breath, reaching for my mate.

Dante never looked back.

He ran—to save Rhea, who had suffered nothing but a scratch.

And as the light faded from my eyes, I learned the truth.

My life had been a game.

Xander. Dante. Rhea. The three of them had planned it all.

I was nothing but a pawn.

I had thought I knew pain. Thought nothing could cut deeper than betrayal.

I was wrong.

They hadn’t just cast me aside. They had stolen my future.

My body trembled—not from weakness, but from rage.

I clenched my fists, nails piercing my palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside me—where life was meant to be.

Where my children should have been.

They had gone to the pack doctor,the one I trusted and paid him.

Paid him to butcher me.

To steal the one thing that should have been mine alone to give.

I had never questioned the fever after that visit, the exhaustion, the aching bones. Too broken to suspect.

And they had smiled.

Xander, tucking my hair behind my ear with hands that had signed away my future.

Dante, laughing beside me as if he hadn’t ensured I would never bear his heir.

And Rhea gazing at me with false sympathy, knowing she had orchestrated it all.

This wasn’t betrayal.

This was destruction.

They hadn’t wanted me to heal. Had made sure that even if I rose from the ashes, I would never be whole.

But they failed.

Because I was still here.

And that meant I could still make them pay.

They had written their wills, left everything to her.

I had died in agony.

But now—

Now, I was back.

I stared at the crisp envelope in my hands.

Riverdale University.

The same school I had followed Xander to like a lovesick fool.

I tore it in half.

Then into quarters.

Shredding it until the pieces fluttered to the floor like dead leaves.

The classroom fell silent.

"Astrid, what are you doing?!" My teacher’s voice broke through the hush.

I met her gaze, steady. Cold.

"I’m not going to Riverdale."

Murmurs erupted. My name had been first on the list.

"But… why?" she asked.

I didn’t blink. "The National Special Research College accepted me. They’re sending medical support for my grandmother."

Her frown softened. "Astrid, I know things have been hard for you, but you must work even harder now. Your family name depends on you."

As I walked the hall, whispers followed me.

Then a foot shot out.

Shit—

Pain exploded as I stumbled, barely catching myself.

Laughter rang behind me.

I turned, eyes flashing gold.

The girl who tripped me paled. Staggered back.

I clenched my fists, suppressing the instinct to tear her apart.

Not yet.

Not here.

Voices drifted toward me as I rounded the corner.

Familiar ones.

Rhea.

And my two childhood friends.

"I did see Astrid getting out of the Alpha’s car," Rhea murmured sweetly. "But maybe she really did get in on her own."

"Rhea, don’t defend her," one scoffed. "She won’t even announce her grades. She’s obviously guilty."

"Yeah, she’d do anything to rise above her rank."

I froze.

Betrayal settled deep in my bones.

I had fought for them. Defended them.

And here they were, dragging my name through the mud.

Again.

But this time, I felt nothing.

I stepped forward.

Three pairs of eyes widened.

I smiled.

"What do you want to talk to me about?"

Xander smirked, masking fake warmth.

"Astrid, we heard you got into Riverdale. That’s great. We’ll be in the same school again."

Liar.

Dante grinned. "Yeah, we’re happy for you."

Hypocrite.

Betrayers.

They had thrown me to the wolves.

Looking back, I should have seen it coming. The way Rhea’s eyes darkened whenever the elders praised my strength, the way her lips curled into a forced smile when the Alpha took notice of my abilities. She was my friend, or so I thought, but beneath that mask of warmth, something sinister lurked.

She wasn’t satisfied being just another she-wolf in the pack. She wanted more. She wanted to stand where I stood.

At first, it was small things—little slights, barely noticeable at the time. A careless "forgotten" invitation to pack gatherings, always comparing her beauty to mine. I laughed it off, thinking she was joking. After all, Rhea had always been blunt, sometimes tactless, but I never thought she meant real harm.

I should have paid closer attention.

The first real sign came during our training sessions. Rhea and I had always sparred together, pushing each other to be better, but suddenly, her strikes became sharper, her blows landing with more force than necessary. She smiled after knocking me down, but there was no warmth in her eyes—only satisfaction. I ignored it, convincing myself I was imagining things.

Then came the rumors.

"Astrid’s getting too close to the Alpha. She’s too ambitious for a she-wolf. Maybe she’s trying to challenge the hierarchy."

"Did you hear? Xander and Dante—are at odds because of her. A she-wolf causing division? How disgraceful."

"She’s always been favored unfairly. Maybe she’s using her charms to stay on top."

At first, I brushed them off. I had grown up with Xander and Dante. We had been inseparable since we were pups. Our bond was one of loyalty, of friendship, nothing more. And as for the Alpha, he recognized my skills, nothing else. But the whispers grew louder, spreading like wildfire through the pack. I caught sidelong glances, the wary stares of my fellow wolves, the way conversations would hush when I entered a room.

And Rhea… she was always there, shaking her head sympathetically. "I don’t know who’s spreading these lies,"she’d say, gripping my hand as if she truly cared. "You don’t deserve this, Astrid. Maybe… maybe if you step back a little, they’ll stop."

Step back.

I stared at her, my gut twisting. There was something so careful in her wording, so rehearsed. As if she had practiced this in her head before coming to me. As if she had known I would confront her.

"You think stepping back will change anything?" I asked, my voice calm but sharp. "You think the pack will suddenly stop whispering if I just disappear?"

Rhea sighed, her golden eyes filled with something that almost resembled pity. Almost.

"Not disappear, Astrid. Just... ease up a little." She rubbed my palm, as if comforting me. "You don’t have to prove yourself so much. You already have."

I laughed—low, humorless. "Is that what they’re saying? That I’m trying too hard?"

Rhea pursed her lips, hesitating, like she was debating whether or not to tell me the truth.

"You’ve always been strong," she admitted, tilting her head. "But strength isn’t everything, Astrid. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to let others take the lead."

I stiffened. "And who do you think should lead, then?"

She blinked, her expression unreadable.

I shook my head, jaw tightening. "I haven’t challenged anything, Rhea. I’ve only done what any warrior should do—what any future leader should do. I’ve trained harder than anyone. I’ve earned my place here."

Rhea’s smile was faint, almost sad. "I know that, Astrid. But does it really matter if they don’t?"

I stilled.

And that’s when I saw it.

The tiniest flicker of satisfaction in her gaze. The slight upturn at the corners of her lips. A shift in her posture—like she had finally guided me exactly where she wanted me.

This wasn’t just sympathy. This wasn’t just concern.

This was manipulation.

The realization settled like ice in my veins. I had trusted her for years. I had told her my fears, my struggles, my ambitions. I had let her in, never once questioning her loyalty.

And she had used it against me.

"You’re not really worried about me, are you?" I asked, my voice quiet.

Rhea blinked. "What?"

"You want me to step back," I said, tasting the truth as it left my lips. "Because if I do, it leaves space for someone else to step forward."

Rhea’s lips parted, but no words came out.

She didn’t deny it.

She didn’t even try.

I exhaled slowly, my pulse steady but my mind racing. "I’ve been so blind," I murmured, more to myself than to her. "I thought you were my friend."

Her brows drew together, her expression shifting into something that almost looked hurt. "I am your friend, Astrid. I just—"

"Just what?" I snapped, stepping closer. "Just want me to fade so you can shine?"

Rhea swallowed. "It’s not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

She was quiet.

And that silence told me everything.

That was when I understood.

Rhea hadn’t just been watching me all these years—she had been waiting. Waiting for an opportunity to undermine me, to make me doubt myself, to plant the seeds of my own downfall. She didn’t need to challenge me directly; she just had to make everyone else turn against me.

Still, I hesitated.

But then, the real betrayals began.

Rhea remained silent, but the way she gripped her skirt told me everything.

I tilted my head slightly, letting my gaze linger on her.

She could sense it, couldn’t she?

The shift in me.

The old Astrid—the naive, desperate girl they had once toyed with—was gone.

They had killed her.

And in her place, something much, much darker

And awakened.