I never loved Ezequiel Mendez, and our union was born out of necessity, not choice.

His father, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, sought my father’s warriors, and my father craved the power that came with aligning our family with theirs.

For twenty years, I never defied Ezequiel.

When he criticized me for lacking the refinement of high-born she-wolves, I learned to play the piano, paint, and master the etiquette expected of a Luna.

When he said I didn’t understand the pack’s politics or how to manage its affairs, I studied the pack laws until I could recite them by heart.

I never pleaded for mercy when he turned against my family, and I didn’t object when he brought his so-called “Moonlight Princess,” Celine Hall, into our home.

The only time I ever asked him for anything was for our daughter, Paislee.

She had fallen in love with the same man as Milena, Celine’s daughter.

The day I begged Ezequiel, he didn’t grant my request.

I brought it up again on the day of the assassination attempt.

I stepped in front of him, taking the blow meant for him. Bleeding and broken, I collapsed into his arms.

“I’ve never asked you for anything,” I whispered, my voice weak but steady. “But Paislee and Augustine are truly in love. If you look closely, you’ll see it.

“You and I both know the consequences of being mated to someone you don’t love.”

There was one more thing I wanted to ask Ezequiel, but time ran out.

I wanted to tell him that if there was another life, we should avoid each other entirely.

---

My name is Anais Jenkins, a name my father gave me, claiming it was after my mother’s hometown.

I knew it was a lie. He couldn’t even spell the name properly.

He despised me for being a daughter he deemed useless—until the day Ezequiel’s father, the Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, passed through our territory, desperate for allies.

His pack was on the brink of collapse, and he needed my father’s warriors.

My father, who had always dreamed of being part of a powerful pack, saw his chance.

To repay my father’s assistance, Ezequiel’s father arranged for me to be mated to his son.

I knew Ezequiel didn’t want this. On the day of our marking ceremony, he only said the words “I accept” and nothing more.

But he had no choice. His father had promised him the title of future Alpha if he complied.

Ezequiel wanted power, so he accepted me.

And I wanted to survive, so I couldn’t refuse.

When his father secured dominance over the region, I became the future Luna.

But Ezequiel made it clear he didn’t think I deserved the title—in any way.

So, after he was named future Alpha, I learned all the things I never cared for: music, art, and the intricate laws of the pack.

I never challenged him, and the pack members whispered behind my back, calling me submissive and weak.

When my father’s pack was disbanded, I didn’t plead for mercy.

When Ezequiel brought Celine Hall, his “Moonlight Princess,” into our home, I didn’t object.

Ezequiel treated me with a cold formality. Some called it respect, others indifference.

If it was respect, he never punished me for my father’s failures, and no one dared suggest he strip me of my title as Luna.

If it was indifference, he never loved me. Our daughter, Paislee, was conceived only because of a night when he’d been drunk and lost control.

I drank the potion to prevent a pregnancy, but two months later, I was still carrying her.

I tried to end it, but the pup clung to life as if determined to survive.

When Ezequiel found out, he stopped me from trying again.

“Keep it,” he said.

Later, when he brought Celine and her daughter, Milena, into our home, I realized the truth.

Milena was the same age as Paislee.

And I remembered the night Ezequiel had stumbled into my room, his scent heavy with alcohol.

Those words—“Keep it”—weren’t meant for me.

After Celine Hall entered the Silver Moon Pack, my life became noticeably easier. She requested authority to assist in managing the pack’s affairs from Ezequiel Mendez, the Alpha, and I willingly handed over the symbolic Luna’s necklace to her. She even demanded to live with the same privileges as a Luna, and Ezequiel didn’t object, so I complied. For a while, Celine and I coexisted without conflict.

That peace lasted until Paislee turned fifteen. During a pack run outside the territory, she met Augustine Robinson, a scholar from a rival pack who was visiting the city. Paislee confided in me that they had fallen in love, and Augustine, believing her to be the daughter of a well-to-do family, had even promised to return and formally mark her as his mate once he completed his studies.

Unfortunately, Milena Gomez, Celine’s daughter, had also set her sights on Augustine. Celine went to Ezequiel, asking him to arrange a mate bond between Milena and Augustine.

I ordered the pack members to keep this news from Paislee and went to see Ezequiel in his study. It was the first time I had ever asked him for anything. I brought with me a pendant Augustine had crafted for Paislee, a portrait of her with the inscription, “May the Moon Goddess guide our bond.”

“Augustine and Paislee are truly in love,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the request. “I beg you, Alpha, to let them be together.”

Ezequiel’s response was silence. He didn’t give me an answer, not even when I left the room. I understood—granting my request would mean rejecting Celine and Milena. Paislee and I had always been outsiders in the pack, after all.

Three days later, during a ceremony for the newly graduated scholars, I brought it up again. I took an arrow meant for Ezequiel, collapsing into his arms, my blood staining his clothes. The intimacy of the moment was bitter, coming at such a cost.

“I’ve never asked anything of you,” I whispered, my strength fading. “But Paislee and Augustine are meant for each other. If you truly look, you’ll see it.”

“I know,” Ezequiel said, his voice strained. His hands pressed against my wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was futile.

“You and I both know what it’s like to be bound to someone you don’t love,” I continued, my breaths shallow. “Please, don’t let Paislee suffer the same fate.”

There was one more thing I wanted to ask him, but time was running out. I wanted to beg him that if there was another life, we would simply avoid each other. But I didn’t have the strength to say it.

In my final moments, I saw Ezequiel’s lips move, though I couldn’t hear his words. I could only make out the shape of his response: he agreed to my request. But he didn’t agree to the second.

---

I found myself back at the moment I first met Ezequiel. In that previous life, he had been walking among a group of weary warriors, the sunlight filtering through the trees and illuminating him as if he were the only one worth seeing. Even my brother Kevin had joked, “Anais, that Ezequiel looks more like a female than you do.”

Back then, aside from the nickname “Anais,” I looked no different from any other male in the pack. My father, Creed Jenkins, had raised me as a son, believing daughters to be useless. It wasn’t until my mate bond with Ezequiel was arranged that he began to expect me to act more like a female. He had my brothers buy me cosmetics, jewelry, and dresses, as if those things could transform me into someone I wasn’t.

I had been a puppet then, and even after the mate bond, I remained one—only the expectations shifted from my appearance to my behavior. In the end, Paislee nearly followed the same path.

This time, I stole some valuables from my father and fled before Ezequiel’s group could reach the mountain. But halfway down the trail, I heard voices approaching. The sun was high in the sky—this time, they had arrived hours earlier than in the past life. I hid, listening as the voices grew louder and then faded.

When I peeked out, I saw Ezequiel walking ahead of the group. The sun glistened on his forehead, and he looked troubled, as if something weighed heavily on him. But all I cared about was whether he would turn around and notice me.

Thankfully, he didn’t.

My brother Joaquin had once said I looked like our father—plain, at best. After the pack had expanded its territory, Joaquin had joked, “Thank the Moon Goddess Anais was already promised to the Alpha. Otherwise, she’d be lost among the other females.”

He’d also warned me to keep an eye on Ezequiel, fearing he might be swayed by other females. But Joaquin, who spent his days indulging in trivial pursuits, didn’t know that Ezequiel’s heart had already belonged to Celine Hall. When our mate bond was arranged, Ezequiel had barely glanced at me, his eyes as calm and unfeeling as still water.

I was grateful for my plain appearance—it meant Ezequiel would never take notice of me. If my father found out I’d stolen from him, he wouldn’t stop until he’d beaten me within an inch of my life.

Once I was far enough away, I quickened my pace. I didn’t stop until I reached a remote town on the outskirts of the Silver Moon Pack’s territory.

In the past, the pack had been divided by power struggles, with rogue werewolves rising against the ruling Alphas. Ezequiel’s father, Zamir Stewart, had been one of the most prominent leaders, carving out his own territory. The outskirts were poor and overlooked, making them the safest place to hide.

In my previous life, Ezequiel had postponed our mark ceremony for three years, claiming he had greater ambitions to fulfill. Our bond had been nothing more than a political alliance—a way to strengthen the ties between our families. My absence wouldn’t change that. In my father’s eyes, losing a daughter was a small price to pay for an alliance with the Silver Moon Pack.

As for Ezequiel, he would likely bond with Celine sooner, conquer more territory, and win her favor. And I? I would finally be free.