The knife slipped from my fingers.

Steel rang against marble. Plates shattered a second later, porcelain bursting like bone beneath my feet. The sound echoed through the dining hall, sharp enough to make the guards outside the doors stiffen.

Derula didn’t flinch. 

He was standing, glaring at me like he didn't just drop bomb on me. 

“Eidlene is back,” he repeated, as if he were announcing the weather. “We’ll divorce.”

I stared at the fragments by my slippers. One shard had sliced my toe. Blood welled, warm, quiet. I didn’t feel it. I didn't mourn it. 

My blood had ran cold. 

Divorce.

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Derula folded his arms, crown glinting beneath the chandelier. His eyes—once warm, once mine—were flat, calculating. A king measuring loss like coin. 

I'm the coin or ...the loss? 

I swallowed. 

“You’ll leave by tomorrow,” he continued. “I don’t want you here when she arrives.”

The room tilted.

I gripped the edge of the table. My palms slipped on polished wood. Three years of meals I cooked myself. Three years of sitting alone at this table while he met councils, fought wars, ruled a pack that never bowed to me.

Treated me lesser than his subjects. 

I didn't mind that. 

But now: Eidlene.

Her name pressed against my ribs, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

“You said…” My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. “You said she was gone.” I desperately hung on those words. 

“She was.” His jaw tightened. “Now she’s not.”

I straightened, forcing my spine rigid. Queens did not crumble. Even omega queens. Especially omega queens. 

“You bonded with me,” I said. “You stood before the pack. You called me your mate.”

“I did.”

The past flickered—his hand clasping mine before the blood moon fire, the howl of approval, the way the pack had gone silent when they scented my weakness. 

Omega.

The promises with excitement in his eyes. 

What went wrong? 

Why did the marriage that I suffered three years for it to take shape...suddenly...my hands dared shake by my sides. 

Derula exhaled sharply. “Things change.”

I laughed. The sound startled me more than him. It came out thin, almost hysterical.

“What changed?” I asked. “Was it when I gave you my kidney? Or when I stopped producing pheromones and had to inject myself every month just to be touched by you?”

His eyes flickered. Just once.

Then they hardened.

“That was your choice.”

The words struck harder than any slap.

I remembered the sterile white room. The Blue Moon physician’s mask. The pain tearing through my side while Derula lay pale beside me, unconscious, dying. I remembered signing the consent form with shaking hands because no one else would.

I’m his queen, I had told myself then. This is what queens do.

My knees buckled. I caught myself before I fell.

“It’s not fair,” I whispered.

Derula’s head snapped up. “What’s not fair?”

The edge in his voice made the guards tense again.

I lifted my gaze to his. “You never let me leave. You never let me give up. And now—”

“Eidlene is pregnant.”

The word pregnant fell like an executioner’s blade.

“With my child,” he added.

Silence swallowed the room.

So that was it.

The whispers suddenly made sense—the sideways looks, the pity masked as contempt. The council meetings I was excluded from. The way his mother’s gaze always drifted to my belly and away again.

Childless.

“I can’t abandon her,” Derula said. “The pack needs an heir.”

I nodded slowly, as if my body had forgotten how to rebel.

“Let’s talk,” I said, even as something tore loose inside my chest. “I’m not leaving you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He turned away, already done. “I’ve put up with this long enough.”

Put up with me.

The words replayed while memories bled through my skull.

Standing before the council when he was sick, lying through my teeth to keep the Rangers from sensing weakness.

Kneeling before his parents while they insulted my bloodline, my scent, my worth.

Lying on a table while healers sliced into me again and again, chasing a child my body could no longer make.

Put up with me.

I swayed.

“Eidlene can live here,” I said suddenly. The words tasted like ash. “You don’t need to move out.”

Derula turned back. Surprise flickered across his face—then relief.

“You’re… fine with that?”

I nodded. Once. Twice.

What choice did I have?

“I’m okay with it.”

My nails dug into my palms. Still no tears came.

He studied me for a long moment, then gave a short nod. “Good.”

That was how I lost my crown without ever taking it off.

......

Eidlene arrived at dawn.

She wore white.

The pack gathered in the courtyard, howling their approval as she stepped beside Derula, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t have to.

I stood behind them, shadowed, silent, already forgotten.

“She will be your Luna,” Derula announced.

Cheers erupted.

No one noticed when I stepped back.

....

They moved me from the royal chambers within the week.

A smaller room. A colder wing. Servants stopped meeting my eyes. Some laughed when they thought I couldn’t hear.

Derula laughed with them.

He stopped coming home at night.

Then one evening, as I crossed the penthouse balcony, the air shifted.

A presence.

Footsteps behind me.

I turned—

Hands slammed into my back.

The world vanished.

Wind screamed past my ears as the ground rushed up, merciless and fast. I hit with a sound I never heard, only felt—a rupture, a crushing finality.

Pain flared. Then dimmed.

Blood pooled beneath me, warm at first, then cold.

I tried to breathe. My chest refused.

I thought of the girl I’d been before him. Before crowns. Before love.

“I don’t want to die,” I whispered to no one.

The darkness answered.

.......

Voices dragged me back.

Angry. Sharp.

“What did you do to my wife?”

I gasped.

Air burned into my lungs like fire. I jerked upright, pain screaming through every bone. The room swam—silver walls, unfamiliar banners, kneeling figures.

“My king, we—”

“Silence.” The voice was lethal. Controlled. “She’s been unconscious for three days.”

Hands steadied me. Warm. Careful.

“I want everyone fired,” the man said. “Now.”

I blinked.

The scent hit me then—iron, pine, dominance so heavy it pressed against my skull.

Rangers Pack.

Enemy territory.

He turned toward me.

“My queen,” he said softly. “You’re awake.”

I froze.

Lucien.

The Lycan King who had terrorized Blue Moon borders for years. The butcher king. The enemy.

Yet his eyes—gods—his eyes held nothing but relief.

“If anything happens to my wife—” His voice dropped, dangerous. “There will be no place left to hide.”

The door creaked.

I followed his gaze.

Derula stood at the entrance, head bowed.

“My king,” he said to Lucien.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Lucien’s arm tightened around me.

And for the first time since I fell, I felt something other than pain.

Shock.

CHAPTER ONE

The knife slipped from my fingers.

Steel rang against marble. Plates shattered a second later, porcelain bursting like bone beneath my feet. The sound echoed through the dining hall, sharp enough to make the guards outside the doors stiffen.

Derula didn’t flinch.

He was standing, glaring at me like he didn't just drop bomb on me.

“Eidlene is back,” he repeated, as if he were announcing the weather. “We’ll divorce.”

I stared at the fragments by my slippers. One shard had sliced my toe. Blood welled, warm, quiet. I didn’t feel it. I didn't mourn it.

My blood had ran cold.

Divorce.

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Derula folded his arms, crown glinting beneath the chandelier. His eyes—once warm, once mine—were flat, calculating. A king measuring loss like coin.

I'm the coin or ...the loss?

I swallowed.

“You’ll leave by tomorrow,” he continued. “I don’t want you here when she arrives.”

The room tilted.

I gripped the edge of the table. My palms slipped on polished wood. Three years of meals I cooked myself. Three years of sitting alone at this table while he met councils, fought wars, ruled a pack that never bowed to me.

Treated me lesser than his subjects.

I didn't mind that.

But now: Eidlene.

Her name pressed against my ribs, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

“You said…” My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. “You said she was gone.” I desperately hung on those words.

“She was.” His jaw tightened. “Now she’s not.”

I straightened, forcing my spine rigid. Queens did not crumble. Even omega queens. Especially omega queens.

“You bonded with me,” I said. “You stood before the pack. You called me your mate.”

“I did.”

The past flickered—his hand clasping mine before the blood moon fire, the howl of approval, the way the pack had gone silent when they scented my weakness.

Omega.

The promises with excitement in his eyes.

What went wrong?

Why did the marriage that I suffered three years for it to take shape...suddenly...my hands dared shake by my sides.

Derula exhaled sharply. “Things change.”

I laughed. The sound startled me more than him. It came out thin, almost hysterical.

“What changed?” I asked. “Was it when I gave you my kidney? Or when I stopped producing pheromones and had to inject myself every month just to be touched by you?”

His eyes flickered. Just once.

Then they hardened.

“That was your choice.”

The words struck harder than any slap.

I remembered the sterile white room. The Blue Moon physician’s mask. The pain tearing through my side while Derula lay pale beside me, unconscious, dying. I remembered signing the consent form with shaking hands because no one else would.

I’m his queen, I had told myself then. This is what queens do.

My knees buckled. I caught myself before I fell.

“It’s not fair,” I whispered.

Derula’s head snapped up. “What’s not fair?”

The edge in his voice made the guards tense again.

I lifted my gaze to his. “You never let me leave. You never let me give up. And now—”

“Eidlene is pregnant.”

The word pregnant fell like an executioner’s blade.

“With my child,” he added.

Silence swallowed the room.

So that was it.

The whispers suddenly made sense—the sideways looks, the pity masked as contempt. The council meetings I was excluded from. The way his mother’s gaze always drifted to my belly and away again.

Childless.

“I can’t abandon her,” Derula said. “The pack needs an heir.”

I nodded slowly, as if my body had forgotten how to rebel.

“Let’s talk,” I said, even as something tore loose inside my chest. “I’m not leaving you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He turned away, already done. “I’ve put up with this long enough.”

Put up with me.

The words replayed while memories bled through my skull.

Standing before the council when he was sick, lying through my teeth to keep the Rangers from sensing weakness.

Kneeling before his parents while they insulted my bloodline, my scent, my worth.

Lying on a table while healers sliced into me again and again, chasing a child my body could no longer make.

Put up with me.

I swayed.

“Eidlene can live here,” I said suddenly. The words tasted like ash. “You don’t need to move out.”

Derula turned back. Surprise flickered across his face—then relief.

“You’re… fine with that?”

I nodded. Once. Twice.

What choice did I have?

“I’m okay with it.”

My nails dug into my palms. Still no tears came.

He studied me for a long moment, then gave a short nod. “Good.”

That was how I lost my crown without ever taking it off.

......

Eidlene arrived at dawn.

She wore white.

The pack gathered in the courtyard, howling their approval as she stepped beside Derula, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t have to.

I stood behind them, shadowed, silent, already forgotten.

“She will be your Luna,” Derula announced.

Cheers erupted.

No one noticed when I stepped back.

....

They moved me from the royal chambers within the week.

A smaller room. A colder wing. Servants stopped meeting my eyes. Some laughed when they thought I couldn’t hear.

Derula laughed with them.

He stopped coming home at night.

Then one evening, as I crossed the penthouse balcony, the air shifted.

A presence.

Footsteps behind me.

I turned—

Hands slammed into my back.

The world vanished.

Wind screamed past my ears as the ground rushed up, merciless and fast. I hit with a sound I never heard, only felt—a rupture, a crushing finality.

Pain flared. Then dimmed.

Blood pooled beneath me, warm at first, then cold.

I tried to breathe. My chest refused.

I thought of the girl I’d been before him. Before crowns. Before love.

“I don’t want to die,” I whispered to no one.

The darkness answered.

.......

Voices dragged me back.

Angry. Sharp.

“What did you do to my wife?”

I gasped.

Air burned into my lungs like fire. I jerked upright, pain screaming through every bone. The room swam—silver walls, unfamiliar banners, kneeling figures.

“My king, we—”

“Silence.” The voice was lethal. Controlled. “She’s been unconscious for three days.”

Hands steadied me. Warm. Careful.

“I want everyone fired,” the man said. “Now.”

I blinked.

The scent hit me then—iron, pine, dominance so heavy it pressed against my skull.

Rangers Pack.

Enemy territory.

He turned toward me.

“My queen,” he said softly. “You’re awake.”

I froze.

Lucien.

The Lycan King who had terrorized Blue Moon borders for years. The butcher king. The enemy.

Yet his eyes—gods—his eyes held nothing but relief.

“If anything happens to my wife—” His voice dropped, dangerous. “There will be no place left to hide.”

The door creaked.

I followed his gaze.

Derula stood at the entrance, head bowed.

“My king,” he said to Lucien.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Lucien’s arm tightened around me.

And for the first time since I fell, I felt something other than pain.

Shock.

CHAPTER TWO

NYRA

Shock didn’t come when Derula rejected me.

It didn’t come when my body hit the ground and the world cracked open.

It came now.

Derula stood at the doorway.

Not sprawled. Not shaken. Not guilty.

Standing straight. Head bowed. Perfectly obedient.

My fingers curled into the sheets. What is going on?

For years, I had begged for that posture—for that reverence. I had torn myself apart trying to earn it.

And now he offered it to another king.

Lucien felt him before he spoke.

His body shifted, subtle and lethal. A predator acknowledging an intruder. His gaze slid over Derula slowly, unhurried, stripping him of rank, pride, and relevance in a single sweep.

“What is it this time?” Lucien asked. His voice was calm. Too calm.

The sight made my chest ache.

For years, I had begged to see that look directed at me.

Lucien noticed him immediately.

His body shifted subtly—like a predator acknowledging another presence. His eyes swept over Derula slowly, measuring, calculating, dismissing.

“What is it this time?” Lucien asked coolly. “I’m not going anywhere. My wife needs me.”

My wife.

The words struck harder than the fall ever had.

Needs me?

My mind reeled.

Moments ago, I had been drowning in pain, my body burning, my lungs screaming. I remembered darkness. Fear. Death.

Now I was lying in a grand room filled with power, being claimed—so effortlessly—as the wife of the Lycan King of the Rangers Pack.

Had I woken up in the wrong universe?

Had death rerouted me somewhere I didn’t belong?

“The Blue Moon Pack wishes to make peace with—” Derula began.

Something felt wrong.

I stared harder at him.

The voice… the stance… the presence.

That wasn’t him.

It looked like Derula—down to the sharp jaw, the familiar eyes, the same broad shoulders that once felt like home.

But it wasn’t him.

The realization sent a chill racing down my spine.

Lucien’s lips curved slowly, dangerously.

“Peace?” he repeated, his voice dropping into a low growl. “Lycan King Derula wants peace with me?”

The air thickened.

I had seen that look before—from a distance. In council chambers. Through glass walls during meetings where kings measured power instead of words.

That bloodthirsty stare had once terrified the entire Blue Moon Pack.

Yet when Lucien turned toward me—

It vanished.

His gaze softened instantly, as though violence did not exist where I was concerned.

“I want every part of her checked,” he commanded.

Doctors immediately straightened.

Lucien stepped closer to me, lowering himself beside the bed. His large hand enveloped mine, warm, grounding, possessive.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly. “I need to deal with that little scrawny king.”

He leaned in.

His lips brushed my cheek.

I sucked in a sharp breath, frozen in shock.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he murmured. “I love you.”

Love me?

The word echoed violently in my head.

Before I could react, he stood and left, alphas following behind him like shadows.

The door closed.

Silence descended.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain someone could hear it.

What was going on?

How did I get here?

How was I married to Lucien—married—without a single memory of it?

I forced myself out of the bed, my legs trembling as they touched the floor. The room was enormous—dark marble, gold accents, symbols carved into stone walls that screamed authority.

Then I saw it.

A portrait.

My breath caught painfully in my throat.

Lucien stood beside me in the painting, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other resting possessively on my hip. I was smiling—soft, genuine, unafraid.

But it was his expression that unsettled me.

He was looking at me like I was sacred.

Like I was something worth destroying the world for.

I staggered back.

No.

This couldn’t be real.

I needed answers—now.

The man who looked like Derula entered again and bowed. “The king asked me to inform you that his meeting may take longer than expected. You shouldn’t wait for him.”

What was I supposed to say?

What would a queen say?

“O… okay,” I managed.

He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped.

I gathered the hem of my long nightdress and walked closer. “Do you know who I am?”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“When,” I asked carefully, “did I marry King Lucien?”

He stared at me.

Long. Hard.

Then he turned and walked out without answering.

Panic bloomed.

Moments later, the doors burst open.

Doctors flooded the room.

“Examine her again,” the look-alike ordered sharply.

Before I could protest, I was pushed back onto the bed.

Needles pierced my skin.

Lights burned into my eyes.

“Move your fingers.”

“Open your mouth.”

“Follow the light.”

I felt like a test subject.

“Do you recognize him?” one doctor asked, pointing to the man standing at the foot of the bed.

I stared.

All I saw was Derula’s face.

And anger surged violently through me.

“I don’t know him.”

The room froze.

“You don’t know me?” the man demanded. “I’m your brother.”

Brother?

“I’m Derreck,” he continued. “Your twin brother.”

The world tilted.

“I… I…” My voice collapsed.

I had been an orphan my entire life.

No parents.

No siblings.

No one—except Derula.

“I think the queen has suffered memory loss,” a doctor said cautiously.

Derreck pulled out a gun instantly.

My breath hitched.

“This does not leave this room,” he warned coldly. “Did you hear me?”

The doctors nodded frantically.

Derreck lowered the gun. “Can you cure her?”

“We’re not sure,” one doctor said nervously. “The fall—”

Fall?

“What fall?” I wanted to scream.

“Wherever she fell from was extremely high. The impact likely affected her hippocampus. We’ll need time to determine if—”

“CURE HER!” Derreck roared.

The room shook.

“Get out!”

The doctors fled.

Derreck turned on me, rage blazing in his eyes. He grabbed my collar, yanking me close.

“You expect me to believe you don’t remember?” he snarled.

My heart raced.

“After haunting me our entire lives, you suddenly forget?”

Haunting?

“You’re afraid Merida will take your place,” he continued bitterly. “Your marriage contract with Lucien will end soon anyway. Whether you pretend or not, you won’t stay queen for long.”

Contract marriage?

To Lucien?

My head throbbed violently.

“What,” I forced out, “is going on?”

Derreck released me abruptly, stepping back as though touching me disgusted him.

“You’ll remember soon enough,” he said coldly. “And when you do, you’ll regret ever waking up.”

The door slammed shut.

I collapsed onto the bed, shaking.

Just who will explain what's going on in three words!!

Am I dead or am I alive?!!!