The scent of pine and frost hung heavy in the air as I stood at the edge of the ceremonial clearing, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged bird desperate for freedom. The full moon cast everything in silver light—the ancient stone altar, the gathered pack members, and Marcus standing beside it in his ceremonial robes, looking every inch the proud Beta who was about to claim his mate.

My mate.

I smoothed down the white dress that had taken me weeks to choose, the fabric soft beneath my trembling fingers. Three years of courtship had led to this moment. Three years of stolen kisses, whispered promises, and dreams of the future we would build together.

"You look beautiful tonight, Selena." Rina appeared at my side, her voice warm with what I believed was genuine affection. My best friend since childhood, she had helped me prepare for this ceremony, braiding flowers into my hair and assuring me that Marcus was lucky to have me.

I turned to her with a grateful smile, not noticing the way her eyes glittered in the moonlight, sharp as winter ice.

"Thank you for being here," I whispered, squeezing her hand. "I couldn't do this without you."

She squeezed back, her grip just a little too tight. "Of course. What are friends for?"

Elder Elena stepped forward, her ancient voice carrying across the clearing as she began the ceremonial words. The pack fell silent, hundreds of eyes focused on Marcus and me as we approached the altar. My legs felt unsteady, but I attributed it to nerves, to the overwhelming joy of finally becoming Marcus's official mate.

I had loved him since we were teenagers. He was everything I thought I wanted—confident, ambitious, with a smile that could make my knees weak. I had waited patiently while he sowed his wild oats, convinced that his wandering eye would settle once we were properly mated.

How naive I had been.

"Marcus Kane," Elder Elena intoned, "do you take this woman as your mate, to bond with her under the moon's blessing?"

I looked up at him expectantly, my heart so full of love it felt like it might burst. This was our moment. Our beginning.

Marcus met my gaze, and something cold flickered in his eyes. Something that made my stomach clench with sudden dread.

"No," he said clearly, his voice carrying across the silent clearing. "I do not."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered backward, certain I had misheard. "What?"

"I said no." He stepped away from me, his expression twisting into something cruel and dismissive. "I reject you, Selena. You are not worthy to be my mate."

A collective gasp rose from the assembled pack. I felt their stares like brands on my skin, burning with shock and pity. My vision blurred, the world tilting dangerously.

"Marcus, please," I whispered, reaching for him desperately. "You don't mean this. We planned—"

"We planned nothing." He caught my wrist, his grip bruising. "You planned. You assumed. But I never promised you anything."

Then Rina stepped forward, and my world shattered completely.

She moved to Marcus's side with fluid grace, her hand sliding possessively over his chest. The look they shared was intimate, familiar—the look of lovers who had been together far longer than a single night.

"How long?" The words scraped out of my throat like broken glass.

Rina tilted her head, her expression a mockery of the sweet friend I had known. "Does it matter? Long enough to know what you could never give him."

"Rina was everything you weren't," Marcus said, his arm encircling my former best friend's waist. "Passionate. Exciting. Not some frigid little mouse who lies there like a piece of wood."

The laughter that rippled through the crowd was like acid in my veins. I could see it in their faces—the knowledge that everyone had known. Everyone except me.

"She's so boring in bed," Rina added with a theatrical sigh, loud enough for the entire pack to hear. "I almost felt sorry for you, Marcus. Almost."

More laughter. Crueler now. I was drowning in it, suffocating on their amusement at my humiliation.

Marcus released his Beta pheromones then, a wave of dominance that crashed over me like a tide. My knees buckled involuntarily, my body responding to the chemical command even as my mind screamed in protest.

"Kneel," he commanded, his voice thick with power.

I fought it. God, how I fought it. But my Beta physiology betrayed me, forcing me down onto the cold stone as the pack watched. Some looked away in embarrassment, but too many stared with fascination, drinking in my degradation like fine wine.

"This is what you are," Marcus said, looking down at me with disgust. "Weak. Pathetic. A Beta who doesn't even have the spine to stand up for herself."

Then he turned to Rina, cupping her face in his hands with a tenderness he had never shown me. "But you, my love. You are everything I need."

He kissed her then, deep and claiming, before tilting his head to expose her neck. His canines elongated, and I watched in horror as he bit down on her throat, marking her as his mate while I knelt in the dirt like a discarded toy.

The mating bond snapped into place between them, their scents mingling in the air—his pine and earth mixing with her jasmine and steel. The smell of their union made me gag.

Elder Elena's voice cut through my anguish like a blade. "Selena Mills, you are hereby stripped of your status as a mate candidate. Your behavior has brought shame upon this pack."

"My behavior?" I looked up at her in disbelief, tears streaming down my face. "What did I do wrong?"

"You failed to hold your mate's interest," she replied coldly. "You failed to be worthy of him. Such failure cannot be tolerated."

The pack murmured their agreement, their judgment falling on me like stones. I was the failure. I was the one who wasn't enough.

"You have one hour to gather your belongings and leave our territory," Elder Elena continued. "You are banished from this pack, never to return."

I struggled to my feet, my legs shaking so badly I could barely stand. Around me, the pack began to disperse, already forgetting about the broken girl who had just lost everything.

But Marcus wasn't finished with me yet.

"Run along now," he called out mockingly as I stumbled toward the tree line. "Maybe you'll find some other fool to take pity on you. Though I doubt it."

Rina's laughter followed me into the darkness, high and cruel. "Don't forget to write!"

I ran then, crashing through the underbrush as their voices faded behind me. The snow began to fall, thick flakes that clung to my ceremonial dress and turned my tears to ice on my cheeks.

I had nowhere to go. No family, no friends, no pack to protect me. I was alone in the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on my back and a heart that felt like it had been carved out with a rusty knife.

The cold bit through my thin dress, but I kept running, driven by some desperate need to put distance between myself and the site of my humiliation. My feet went numb, then my hands, but still I pressed on through the deepening snow.

It was the howl that stopped me.

Low and hungry, it echoed through the trees somewhere behind me. Then another answered from my left. And another from my right.

Wolves. Wild ones, not pack members. And they had caught my scent.

I tried to run again, but my frozen limbs betrayed me. I stumbled, fell, and felt the sharp crack of something breaking in my chest. Blood filled my mouth, warm and metallic.

The first wolf emerged from the shadows, its yellow eyes fixed on me with predatory hunger. Then the others appeared, circling me like the vultures they were.

I closed my eyes as they closed in, their growls filling the air. The pain was swift and terrible, but as my life bled out into the snow, one thought burned bright in my dying mind.

Revenge.

I would have my revenge on them all.

The darkness took me, but my vow remained, echoing in the space between life and death with the force of a blood oath.

When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at a familiar ceiling—my childhood bedroom ceiling, with its water stain shaped like a butterfly.

I sat up slowly, my heart pounding. Sunlight streamed through the window, warm and golden. No snow. No blood. No pain.

My hands flew to my throat, searching for wounds that weren't there. My skin was whole, unmarked, alive.

A knock at the door made me jump.

"Selena?" Marcus's voice called through the wood, warm and affectionate. "Are you ready for breakfast, sweetheart? We have the venue walkthrough today, remember?"

The venue walkthrough. For our wedding.

I looked at the calendar on my nightstand and felt my blood turn to ice.

Three years ago. I was three years in the past, back at the beginning of my engagement to Marcus.

Back before I knew what he really was.

A smile spread across my face, cold and sharp as winter steel.

This time would be different.

This time, I would be ready for them.

My eyes snapped open like I'd been struck by lightning.

The familiar water stain on my bedroom ceiling stared back at me—that butterfly-shaped mark I'd memorized during countless sleepless nights as a teenager. But this couldn't be real. I had died. I remembered the teeth, the claws, the way my blood had steamed in the snow.

My hand flew to my throat, fingers frantically searching for the wounds that should have been there. Nothing. Just smooth, unmarked skin and the rapid flutter of my pulse.

I sat up slowly, my body trembling as the full horror of my memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. The humiliation. Marcus's cruel laughter. Rina's betrayal. The pack watching as I was forced to my knees, their faces twisted with amusement at my degradation.

But I was alive. Whole. And according to the calendar on my nightstand, it was three years ago—the day after Marcus had proposed.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. A second chance. The universe had given me a second chance.

I stumbled to the bathroom on unsteady legs, gripping the sink as I stared at my reflection. The face looking back was younger, softer, unmarked by the trauma that had aged me beyond my years. But my eyes—my eyes held the weight of everything I'd endured. They were the eyes of someone who had died and clawed her way back from hell.

"Marcus," I whispered to my reflection, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Rina." Their names tasted like poison on my tongue. "You will pay for everything. I will strip you of all you hold dear, just as you did to me."

The girl in the mirror smiled back, and it was a terrible thing—all sharp edges and cold promise.

A knock at my bedroom door shattered the moment.

"Selena?" Marcus's voice drifted through the wood, warm and affectionate in that practiced way I now recognized as performance. "Are you ready for breakfast, sweetheart? We have the venue walkthrough today, remember?"

The venue walkthrough. For our wedding that would never happen.

I closed my eyes, steeling myself. I had to be careful. One wrong move, one slip that revealed I knew what was coming, and I'd lose any advantage this miraculous rebirth had given me.

"Coming!" I called back, forcing my voice into the sweet, compliant tone he expected.

I dressed quickly in a soft pink sundress—the kind of feminine, demure outfit the old Selena would have chosen to please him. When I opened the door, Marcus was waiting in the hallway, devastatingly handsome in that way that had once made my heart skip. Now, looking at his perfectly styled hair and practiced smile, I felt only revulsion.

"There's my beautiful fiancée," he murmured, reaching for me with those hands that had once held Rina while I knelt in the dirt.

He pulled me close, his scent of sandalwood and arrogance filling my nostrils as he leaned in for a kiss. Every instinct screamed at me to pull away, to claw at his face, to make him hurt the way he'd hurt me. Instead, I forced myself to remain still as his lips pressed against mine.

The kiss was brief, perfunctory—nothing like the passionate claiming he'd given Rina in front of the entire pack. I was just the placeholder, the convenient choice until something better came along.

When he pulled back, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance?

"You seem distant this morning," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Everything alright?"

"Just tired," I lied, pressing a hand to my temple. "I have a bit of a headache."

His expression shifted to one of mild irritation, quickly masked. The old Selena wouldn't have noticed, but I catalogued every micro-expression now, filing them away for future use.

"Well, we can't postpone the walkthrough," he said, his voice taking on that edge I'd once mistaken for passion. "This wedding is important, Selena. For both our families."

Important for his social climbing, he meant. For the connections my family's modest wealth could provide.

"Of course," I agreed sweetly. "I wouldn't dream of disappointing you."

The day passed in a blur of forced smiles and wedding preparations that felt like planning my own funeral. But it was that evening, at the pack gathering, that the real test began.

The Blue Moon Bar was packed with young pack members, the air thick with laughter, music, and the mingled scents of dozens of wolves. I spotted Rina immediately—she stood near the bar in a tight red dress that left little to the imagination, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk.

She was beautiful, I had to admit. The kind of stunning that drew every eye in the room. No wonder Marcus had chosen her over me.

"Selena!" she squealed when she saw me, rushing over with a drink already in hand. "You look adorable! Though maybe a little... conservative?"

The subtle dig hit exactly where it was meant to. In my past life, I would have blushed and stammered an apology. Now, I simply smiled.

"You know me," I said lightly. "I prefer to leave something to the imagination."

Her smile faltered for just a moment before snapping back into place. "Of course! That's so... you." She pressed the drink into my hands—something fruity and strong that burned on the way down. "Come on, let's celebrate! Your wedding is only weeks away!"

I remembered this night with perfect clarity. Rina would ply me with alcohol, encouraging me to "loosen up" while making subtle comments to others about what a prude I was. She'd paint me as the boring fiancée who couldn't keep her man satisfied, setting the stage for her own grand entrance into his bed.

But this time, I was ready for her game.

"You're right," I said, taking another sip of the cocktail. "I should celebrate."

For the next hour, I played my part perfectly. I drank what she gave me, laughed at her jokes, and pretended not to notice the way she kept glancing toward Marcus across the room. But I heard every whispered comment she made to the other pack members.

"She's so sweet, but honestly, can you imagine her keeping a man like Marcus interested?"

"I worry about her. She's just so... innocent. Some men need more fire, you know?"

"Marcus deserves someone who can match his passion."

Each comment was a knife between my ribs, designed to isolate me, to make the pack question whether I was worthy of their future Beta. In my first life, the alcohol had numbed me to the subtle cruelty. This time, stone-cold sober despite the drinks, I absorbed every word like evidence for the prosecution.

By ten o'clock, I was swaying convincingly, playing up the effects of alcohol I wasn't actually feeling. The bar had grown louder, more crowded, the air thick with smoke and sweat.

"I need some air," I mumbled, pressing a hand to my forehead.

Rina's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Of course, honey. You look a little green around the gills."

I stumbled toward the exit, hearing her stage-whisper to someone behind me: "Poor thing can't handle her liquor. I hope Marcus knows what he's getting into."

The cool night air hit my face as I pushed through the bar's heavy door, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The street was quieter here, lit by the soft glow of streetlamps and the nearly full moon overhead.

I took a few steps away from the entrance, then let my legs give out beneath me, just as they had three years ago. But this time, I wasn't surprised when strong arms caught me before I could hit the pavement.

The scent hit me first—storm-battered pine and raw dominance, so powerfully Alpha that it made my knees weak for entirely different reasons. I looked up into the face of my rescuer and felt my breath catch.

He was tall, easily six-foot-three, with dark hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it and sharp features that belonged on a magazine cover. But it was his eyes that held me captive—pale green like sea glass, ancient and knowing in a way that made me feel like he could see straight through to my soul.

"Easy there," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones. "I've got you."

For the first time since my rebirth, I felt something other than hatred and the burning need for revenge. Something warm and electric that started in my chest and spread outward like wildfire.

This was Lucien. It had to be.

And this time, I would not let him slip away.

The world tilted dangerously as strong arms caught me, preventing my carefully orchestrated fall from becoming a real one. The scent that enveloped me was unlike anything I'd ever experienced—storm-battered pine mixed with something wild and untamed, so powerfully Alpha that it made my knees weak for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd pretended to drink.

I looked up into the face of my rescuer and felt my breath catch in my throat. He was tall, easily six-foot-three, with dark hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it and sharp features that could have been carved from marble. But it was his eyes that held me captive—pale green like sea glass, ancient and knowing in a way that made me feel completely exposed.

"Easy there," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones. "I've got you."

This had to be Lucien. The mysterious Alpha who had appeared at the edges of my memories from that first life, always watching from the shadows but never intervening. Until now.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, playing up the drunken slur while my mind raced with possibilities. "Just need a minute."

His pale green eyes studied me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. There was something predatory in his gaze, but not in the cruel way Marcus looked at his prey. This was different—protective, possessive, like he was cataloguing every detail of my face for future reference.

"No, you're not," he said simply. Without another word, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing at all.

I should have protested. The old Selena would have stammered apologies and insisted she could walk. But something about being held by him felt... right. Safe in a way I hadn't felt since before my first death.

The bar's noise faded behind us as he carried me down the street, his steps sure and confident. I caught glimpses of expensive cars and upscale storefronts, but my attention was focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear and the way his scent seemed to wrap around me like a protective cocoon.

His apartment building was sleek and modern, all glass and steel reaching toward the night sky. The elevator ride passed in silence, but I was acutely aware of every breath he took, every subtle shift in his grip. When the doors opened on the top floor, I wasn't surprised to find we were the only ones getting off.

The apartment itself was a study in understated luxury—minimalist furniture in black and chrome, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city, and artwork that probably cost more than most people made in a year. Everything was pristine, controlled, exactly what I'd expect from an Alpha of his caliber.

He placed me gently on a leather sofa that was softer than silk, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "Wait here," he commanded, and even though his tone was gentle, there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order.

I watched him disappear into what I assumed was the kitchen, taking the opportunity to study my surroundings more carefully. This wasn't the home of someone who lived on the pack's periphery. This was the domain of someone with serious power and wealth—the kind of Alpha who could crush Marcus without breaking a sweat.

He returned with a glass of water and a damp cloth, settling beside me on the sofa with fluid grace. "Drink," he said, pressing the glass into my hands.

The water was cool and clean, washing away the lingering taste of Rina's poisonous cocktails. As I drank, he began gently wiping the tear-streaked makeup from my face with the cloth, his movements methodical and surprisingly tender.

"Better?" he asked when he'd finished, tilting my chin up to examine his handiwork.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. This close, I could see flecks of gold in his green eyes, could count the dark lashes that framed them. He was devastatingly beautiful in a way that made my chest tight.

"Good." He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my skin like a whisper.

Then he paused.

His hand stilled against my temple, his eyes narrowing with sudden focus. I watched, fascinated, as his nostrils flared slightly and his head tilted to one side like a predator catching an interesting scent.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer. His nose hovered just over the curve of my neck, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. He inhaled deeply, and I saw his pupils dilate with something that looked like hunger.

"Interesting," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

My heart hammered against my ribs. "What?"

But he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled back just far enough to study my face with those penetrating eyes, like he was solving a puzzle that had suddenly become much more complex.

"Nothing," he said finally, but there was something in his tone that suggested it was very much something. "You should rest."

The next thing I knew, he was lifting me again, carrying me through a doorway into what was clearly his bedroom. The space was dominated by a massive bed with crisp white linens, and I felt a flutter of panic as he set me down on the edge.

"I should go," I said quickly, though every fiber of my being wanted to stay.

"No." The word was quiet but absolute. "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Sleep. We'll sort everything else out in the morning."

He disappeared into what I assumed was a walk-in closet, returning with a soft gray t-shirt that looked like it would swallow me whole. "Change into this," he said, setting it on the bed beside me. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

After he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click, I sat there for a long moment trying to process what had just happened. The scent detection, the way he'd looked at me like he'd discovered something precious and rare—it all pointed to one impossible conclusion.

He knew. Somehow, some way, Lucien had detected what even I hadn't fully understood about myself.

I was an Omega.

The realization should have terrified me. In our world, Omegas were rare, powerful, and coveted above all else. They were also vulnerable in ways that Betas could never understand, their biology making them dependent on Alpha protection during heat cycles.

But as I changed into his shirt, breathing in the scent of him that clung to the fabric, I felt something I hadn't experienced in either of my lives: hope.

Perhaps this rebirth hadn't just given me a chance for revenge. Perhaps it had given me something even more valuable—a true mate who could see me for what I really was.

I slipped between his sheets, surrounded by his scent and the lingering warmth of his presence, and for the first time since opening my eyes in the past, I felt like I might actually have a future worth fighting for.