They say death brings peace, but Alpha Draven’s passing brought chaos. At first, mourners filled the air with whispers and weeping, but all of that shattered when the lawyer arrived.

Right in front of the grieving pack, he unrolled the Alpha’s will, his voice cutting like a blade:

“All holdings, properties, and wealth are to be transferred to one person… Mirielle.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Not to me—his Luna. Not to the Silver Hollow warriors who bled for him. But to her. The omega he once called his “sister.”

I always knew. From the moment he brought her into our home, soft-spoken and wide-eyed, I saw through the lie. That was never brotherly affection. And now, he’d left everything to her.

With our coffers empty and hope extinguished, the Silver Hollow Pack fell apart. Warriors who once protected these lands turned feral from despair. Starving. Furious.

“If we perish from hunger,” they cried, “then let her burn with us!”

And they did.

They set fire to the estate, to the homes, to the halls I once ruled beside him. They came for me too—their Luna. I didn’t run. I stood in the heart of the inferno as the flames devoured all we’d built. I felt the fire reach for my skin, smoke clawing down my throat.

Then—nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed. Or perhaps… rewound.

I was no longer choking on smoke or standing among the wreckage. I was in my bed. My room, untouched. The morning sun poured through familiar windows. Everything was intact.

A week before the mating ceremony.

It was real. I had returned.

But not as the same woman.

Not as the naive girl waiting to be claimed by a man who’d betray her. This time, I knew better. This time, I’d rewrite my fate.

I wasn’t going to marry Draven. And I had a plan.

—

The towering structure of the Shadowcrest Pack’s luxury hotel stood like a monument to ambition. Sleek. Modern. Ruthless. Much like the man who ruled it.

I marched past the entrance without hesitation. The guards stiffened as I approached, but I met their suspicion with icy confidence. One spoke into a radio. Moments later, I was being escorted to the top floor.

A quiet ding signaled our arrival.

The doors opened to reveal a lavish lounge—glass walls, leather furnishings, the scent of power. And there he was.

Alpha Damon.

He sat at a table of polished obsidian, slowly swirling whiskey in a glass. His steel eyes lifted to meet mine, cool and unreadable. His dark hair was tousled just enough to seem effortless, but nothing about him was ever unintentional.

A predator waiting.

I stepped into the room without flinching. “I want you to stop my wedding.”

The glass paused halfway to his lips. His brow arched with amusement. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” I said. “Crash the ceremony. Ruin it.”

He leaned back, interest flickering across his face. “And what’s in it for me?”

I took a breath, calm and direct. “I know your elders are pushing you to find a Luna. Soon. You’re cornered into mating with someone you don’t want.”

His expression didn’t shift, but I noticed the subtle flicker in his jaw. I had struck a nerve.

I pressed on. “Claim me instead. At the ceremony. Publicly. I’m of noble lineage—your pack won’t object. You get your Luna. I get my freedom.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then a dark laugh slipped from his lips. “You’re mad.”

“Probably,” I said. “But I’m also serious.”

Another pause. Then he nodded once. Slowly. “Alright, Rhea. You have my attention.”

—

Preparations for the wedding were in full swing.

Inside the grand hall of the Silver Hollow Pack, omegas rushed about with ribbons, silk, and trays of flowers. The scent of fresh blossoms mingled with candle wax, and somewhere in the center of it all stood the dress—a dazzling creation of lace and ivory.

Beautiful. Delicate. Pointless.

I stared at it like one might stare at a casket.

A voice cut through the flurry of movement. “Nervous?”

I turned.

Draven stood at the staircase, arms folded, an arrogant smirk pulling at his lips.

“You must be thrilled,” he said mockingly. “Getting everything you always wanted.”

I smiled, slow and measured. “Oh, I am.” I took a step closer. “And I have quite the surprise waiting for you.”

His smile faltered just slightly. But I walked away before he could reply.

My gaze drifted across the room—and landed on her.

Mirielle.

Dressed in soft pastel silk, hands folded primly in front of her, watching the scene unfold with polite curiosity. But what caught my eye was the gleam on her finger.

A ruby ring.

A gift from Draven. Costlier than my entire gown.

I felt the bitterness rise, but I swallowed it back, sealing my expression into calm indifference.

Just one week.

One more week… and I would never be his Luna.

One more week, and I would vanish from his world—forever.

Rhea

For years, I had been the subject of ridicule. Five years of being engaged without a wedding turned me into the pack’s favorite joke. The members of the Silver Hollow Pack murmured behind my back, their laughter laced with disdain.

But one night changed the course of everything. It was after the Full Moon Festival—I had been drinking, the night spinning into a blur. The next morning, I woke tangled in Alpha Draven’s sheets, my limbs sore and my thoughts hazy. And when our families discovered us together, entangled in those satin covers, the gasps of shock and horror were enough to decide my fate.

The marriage that followed was swift and loveless. The ceremony lacked warmth, and Draven’s resentment was palpable, hotter than any fire a mating bond could produce. He loathed me—blamed me for forcing him into a union he never desired. In my past life, I spent every waking moment trying to earn his affection, to prove I was worthy of the Luna title. But his heart had never been mine to win. It belonged to someone else.

This time, I wouldn't repeat those same desperate efforts.

That’s why I found myself in this grand auction hall now, surrounded by elites—rich wolves, noble-blooded Lycans, and commanding Alphas. My focus was locked on a single item displayed in a glass case.

A thin, intricately crafted silver bracelet, adorned with a softly glowing moonstone. My mother’s bracelet.

Two years before I died, I lost her. Her belongings had been seized, sold off, or lost. This was all that remained of her, the only physical memory I could reclaim.

I stepped forward, ready to place my bid. But then I caught a scent I knew too well.

Draven.

My body went rigid, instinct urging me to turn and vanish before he saw me—but it was too late. He was already at the front, scanning the room with that usual commanding presence.

And beside him stood Mirielle.

She clung to him sweetly, her expression wide-eyed and curious, like the entire event was a delightful storybook brought to life. As if she hadn’t stolen the life that should’ve been mine—piece by piece, lie by lie.

Clenching my hands at my sides, I stepped up. “Alpha,” I called out, keeping my tone calm though my chest churned with emotion.

He turned toward me, an eyebrow arching in momentary surprise before his expression returned to its usual cold neutrality. “Rhea.”

I didn’t hesitate. “That bracelet belonged to my mother. I want it returned to me.”

His lips twisted into something that resembled a smile, but the cruelty in it was sharp. “Mirielle has taken a liking to it.”

His words landed like a slap.

Of course. Why wouldn’t she? She had always desired what I had. And Draven? He gave her everything without question.

“There are plenty of other things up for bidding,” he added casually. “Choose something else.”

“I’m not interested in anything else.” My voice came out colder, firmer. “That bracelet is not just an ornament. It holds meaning. It was my mother’s—”

“She wants to experience moments like this,” he said, interrupting me softly, his voice turning gentle as he glanced at her, his gaze tender and affectionate. “She deserves these experiences.”

Something inside me cracked. I turned my back to him, forcing down the bitterness rising in my throat. If it was a battle he wanted, then he would get one.

The bidding began. I immediately raised my paddle, my offer clear and unwavering. For a brief moment, it felt like victory was within reach. The room didn’t seem interested. No one else made a move.

Then Draven placed his bid.

My stomach twisted into knots.

I raised mine again.

He followed suit.

Back and forth we went, the numbers rising, the crowd beginning to murmur in excitement. My heartbeat was a drum in my chest, my breaths coming shallow.

But in the end, I was outmatched. Draven’s final offer exceeded my limit.

He won.

As the bracelet was handed to him, a flicker of hope still remained in me. Perhaps—just perhaps—he’d offer it to me. Maybe a part of him still understood what it meant to me.

Instead, he turned to Mirielle and gently placed the jewelry in her eager hands.

Her face lit up with joy as she fastened it onto her wrist, her fingers admiring the gleaming metal. But she was reckless. Careless.

With a loud snap, the moonstone split. The silver links snapped apart. The bracelet collapsed, fragments scattering onto the floor.

I froze.

The world around me faded into a blur.

Mirielle gasped, lifting her hands to her mouth in alarm. “Oh no… Rhea, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to break it—”

I turned my back on her words. Kneeling, I gathered the shattered remains with trembling fingers and pressed them against my chest.

I left without a word.

I didn’t shed tears—not when I stepped outside that lavish hall, not when I arrived home at the packhouse. Not even when Mirielle, remorseful and weeping, fell onto the cold marble tiles and begged for forgiveness.

“I swear I didn’t mean to destroy it,” she whispered. “Please, Rhea. Let me make it right.”

I ignored her.

And when, in a desperate attempt to display how sorry she was, she knelt on coarse salt until her skin burned and bled, pleading again and again for my forgiveness—I remained silent.

Then the rains came. Thunder roared and wind howled as the storm drenched her. Still she knelt there, her thin body soaked and shaking.

I didn’t flinch.

That night, I slept deeply.

The next morning, shouts woke me. I stepped out to find a crowd gathered around Mirielle’s collapsed figure, unconscious from exposure.

I felt nothing.

But Draven did.

He stormed toward me, his rage barely contained. “Are you satisfied now?” he shouted. “Is this what you wanted, Rhea? You watched her kneel all night and did nothing!”

I met his furious gaze, noting the loathing in his eyes—as if I were some heartless monster.

And all I could think about was my former life.

A slow smile tugged at my lips.

Leaning in close, my voice was low, cutting, “Tell me, Alpha… who do you think is more heartless between the two of us?”

Rhea

The flames danced wildly, consuming every last remnant of the life I had once desperately clung to.

Elegant gowns, ornate jewels, luxurious fragrances—tokens from my engagement to Alpha Draven—now vanished in a blaze. Not because I held sentiment for them, but because they were meaningless. Each gift had been a formality, a transaction devoid of affection. Draven never picked them himself; his parents orchestrated every detail, feeding the illusion of a fairy-tale bond while he hardly even acknowledged me.

I used to be naïve. I truly believed that even if love wasn’t there from the start, maybe time would change that. That perhaps loyalty would bloom into something deeper.

But affection cannot take root where resentment is the only soil.

I stared into the fire, watching the last silk strip curl into ash, the scent of burning memories heavy in the air. Of all the things I discarded, one remained untouched.

The heirloom of the Silver Hollow Pack.

A pendant of age and power, inscribed with the crest of the pack—meant to adorn the neck of the Luna. A role I would never fill.

My fingers curled around it tightly. This was never meant for me. And now, I would return it.

With the pendant gripped in my hand, I turned and moved toward Draven’s quarters.

The corridor leading to his room was dim, torchlight flickering across stone walls and casting trembling shadows. My steps were silent. I was a ghost in the halls, guided only by instinct and purpose.

The door was slightly open.

Voices slipped through the crack, low and tense. I froze, breath caught in my lungs. Mirielle was inside.

I didn’t have to look. I could picture it already—her small form tucked into his arms, her tears soaking into his shirt as he held her, whispered to her, comforted her. Just as he always had.

My grip on the pendant tightened. I remained in the shadows, listening.

“I-I’m frightened,” came Mirielle’s trembling voice, thick with emotion. “What happens to our child if… if Rhea ends up pregnant after the mating rites? What will we do then?”

My body went still.

A child?

My heart pounded as I waited for Draven’s response, barely daring to breathe.

“She won’t,” he said quietly, his voice steady, assured.

“But what if—” she began again.

“I’ve taken precautions,” he cut in, calm and resolute. “She’ll never carry my heir. The potion’s ready. She won’t taste it in her drink, but it’ll make her barren—permanently.”

My entire world reeled.

Sterile. Permanently.

He had never once considered a life with me. I wasn’t even a possibility in his future. To him, I was something to eliminate—an inconvenience. A means to an end that he intended to cut off, quietly and cruelly.

All this time, I believed his coldness was due to indifference. That he didn’t love me, that he couldn’t. But I had never imagined this level of calculated malice. That he would go so far as to destroy my ability to have children just to preserve his life with her.

I should have felt fury. I should’ve burst into that room, flung the pendant at his feet, confronted him with every ounce of betrayal.

But I didn’t.

I did the opposite.

I stepped away, quiet as moonlight, and disappeared down the corridor.

Back in my room, I opened my bedside drawer with steady hands and pulled out a second phone, the one I hadn’t touched in months. My fingers moved with certainty, dialing a number etched into my soul.

The line connected after a few rings.

“Rhea?” my father’s voice rumbled on the other end, familiar and firm.

I closed my eyes, voice low but unwavering. “I’m coming back, Father.”

A pause stretched between us before he replied, “The ceremony… did something happen?” His voice softened slightly. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure,” I answered without hesitation.

His exhale came through the line, laced with both relief and something more—perhaps understanding. “Then come home. We’re waiting.”

I felt something inside me loosen, as if a great burden had finally begun to lift. But just as I was about to end the call, another notification flashed on the screen.

An incoming call. Alpha Damon.

I paused only for a second, then answered.

“Rhea,” his voice was smooth and self-assured. “Everything is in place. Just give the command, and your mating ceremony with Draven will be nothing but ashes.”