Hero Alpha and Dying Stepdaughter

The day my parents severed their mate bond, my sister and I had to choose.

One of us would go with our father—the Alpha who'd gambled away every inch of pack territory in underground wolf fights.

The other would go with our mother, who was marrying Alaric, the most powerful Alpha in the werewolf world.

In my past life, my sister fought to go with our mother. I stayed behind with our father in silence.

Later, our father rebuilt himself. His territory grew tenfold. He became one of the strongest Alphas, and I was his most beloved daughter.

But my sister provoked the tyrant Alpha Alaric, was banished from his territory, and was torn apart by rogues.

After rebirth, my sister didn't hesitate. She dropped her packed bags and clung to our father, sobbing: "Daddy, I can't leave you. Let my sister go live the good life with Mom. I'll stay with you."

Our father's eyes softened with emotion. He looked at me quietly packing my things, and his voice turned cold: "Get out. You're just like your mother—a gold-digging bitch."

I didn't argue. I left in silence.

In my past life, I fought thousands of battles in underground wolf pits for him. My wolf nearly died countless times. My body was covered in scars. I won back his territory piece by piece.

Only then did he wake up, pull himself together, and become a powerful Alpha again.

But my wolf had been shattered beyond repair.

On the verge of death, my wolf burned the last spark of her life to reverse time.

But she couldn't reverse her own decay.

This time around, all I wanted was to find a place with no fighting and sit in the sun for a while.

I was reborn. Back to the year I was fifteen, the exact moment my parents severed their mate bond.

The Council Elder was reading the final terms. My father, Gareth, stood on the left, his face ashen, his eyes hollow.

He had been the Alpha of the Colton Pack. But he'd gotten hooked on underground wolf fights and gambled away everything his ancestors had built—territory by territory, until even the Pack House was on the betting table.

My mother, Diane, stood on the right, makeup flawless, chin tilted upward. She couldn't stomach the fall—from Alpha's wife to a gambler's woman, overnight.

She was remarrying. Alpha Alaric of the Ashford Pack—one of the most powerful Alphas the werewolf world had ever known.

"The ceremony is complete." The Elder closed the documents and looked at me and Ivy. "The two children will each choose a parent."

In my past life, Ivy chose our mother first.

I stayed with our father.

For the next ten years, I fought thousands of battles in underground wolf pits for him. Every single one was a blood-soaked brawl inside a silver cage, facing the most vicious fighters that desperate gamblers from other territories could throw at me.

There wasn't an inch of undamaged skin left on my body. Seven broken ribs. Three cracked vertebrae. But I kept winning, fight after fight, and won back his territory piece by piece.

Our father finally came to his senses. He rebuilt himself and became a powerful Alpha once more.

But my wolf had been beaten to ruins. Total collapse.

On the brink of death, my wolf burned the last of her life force to reverse time.

And Ivy had been reborn too.

In her past life, she'd followed our mother to the Ashford Pack, expecting a life of luxury. But Alaric was no gentle stepfather—he was an iron-fisted Alpha. Ivy crossed him, was banished from the territory, and was tortured to death by rogues.

So this time, Ivy played it smart.

"Daddy!" She rushed forward before anyone else could move, throwing her arms around Gareth, tears flowing on cue. "I won't leave you! Ember, Dad needs us—he's been through so much. You go with Mom and enjoy the good life. I'll stay with him."

What a performance. The terror of dying at the hands of rogues in her past life made her tears especially convincing.

But she only knew that our father eventually reclaimed vast territories and became a formidable Alpha again. She didn't know that I'd paid for every inch with my life.

Without me bleeding in the wolf pits, those territories would never have been won back.

I didn't expose her.

The Council Elder pushed the documents in front of me. I picked up the pen and signed my name calmly.

I chose to go with our mother.

I went back to the half-empty house to pack. Packing was generous—it was an old satchel with two changes of clothes stuffed inside.

Gareth sat in the only chair left in the living room, not even lifting his head.

"Get out." His voice was hoarse and cold. "You're just like your mother. A gold-digging bitch."

My hand paused for a second.

In my past life, I'd stayed. I'd fought for him for ten years. After he came to his senses, he held me and wept, saying I was the one person he owed the most.

But this version of him hadn't been through any of that. This version was just an angry, broken man consumed by his addiction.

Ivy hid behind Gareth, flashing me a triumphant smile.

"Sis," she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Don't come begging me to take you in later."

I said nothing. I slung the satchel over my shoulder and walked out.

The moment I stepped through the door, the claw marks on the inside of my arm flared with a sharp sting. I rolled up my sleeve—the pattern had spread a little further, almost reaching my elbow.

When it reached my heart, that would be the end.

Rebirth came with no miracles. My wolf had burned everything she had to reverse time. I was just a body on a countdown now.

All I wanted was a quiet place where I could try to be comfortable for whatever time I had left.

Diane's car was parked at the territory border.

A black SUV, polished to a shine, completely out of place against the run-down territory.

I walked over. Diane sat in the driver's seat, sizing me up through the window. She frowned.

"Throw that ratty bag in the back. Don't get the seats dirty."

I opened the rear door, set the satchel inside, and climbed into the passenger seat.

Diane started the car and floored it out of Southern Ridge territory. She didn't even glance at the rearview mirror, like she couldn't wait to cut ties with this place for good.

"Alaric's pack doesn't carry dead weight." Her tone was ice-cold, more briefing than conversation. "When you get there, don't be a burden."

I didn't respond.

"The only thing you've got going for you is that you can fight." Diane shot me a look. "Alpha bloodline awakened at fourteen, stronger than grown warriors after your first shift. That's your only value. Understand?"

She didn't know about the wolf pits in my past life. But she knew I could fight—and that was the only reason she'd brought me along.

"Once you get to Ashford Pack, sign up for warrior training and border patrol. Show Alaric you're useful." Diane tapped the steering wheel. "Don't be deadweight like your worthless father."

I leaned against the window in silence.

Diane wanted me to shift and fight. What she didn't know was that my wolf had deteriorated to the point where I only had three shifts left. After that, I was dead.

The claw marks on my arm suddenly seized, like something was tearing open beneath my skin.

My vision went black and my forehead cracked against the window.

A dull thud.

Diane glanced at me, impatient. "If you get carsick, deal with it. Don't make a scene."

A metallic taste surged up my throat. I clenched my jaw and swallowed the blood back down.

The car wound through layers of forest and entered the heart of Ashford Pack territory. Diane parked near the Pack House and took me to meet Alaric.

"He's at the north training ground." The Beta told Diane respectfully.

On the training ground, over twenty pack warriors were sparring. The dull thuds of fists hitting pads came one after another, punctuated by sharp grunts.

Alaric stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed.

His gaze swept over every pair of fighters with cold precision. When he wasn't speaking, his entire presence radiated the kind of Alpha dominance that made everyone tense on instinct.

This was Alaric. The hero of the entire werewolf world. The legendary Alpha who'd risen to godlike status in the Vampire War.

Every pack revered him. Every enemy retreated at the sound of his name.

But my second look landed on his arm.

Alaric wore a long-sleeved training shirt. When he raised his right hand to adjust a warrior's stance, his sleeve shifted slightly, revealing a small patch of skin on the inside of his forearm.

There was a pattern there.

Faint—almost invisible. But I knew that pattern too well, because I had the exact same thing on my own arm.

The mark of wolf decay.

My heart clenched.

How was that possible? Alaric was the most powerful Alpha alive, the war god who'd crushed the vampire armies. If his wolf was in decay, the vampires would overrun every werewolf territory within hours.

Impossible. I must have seen it wrong.

I shook my head and pushed the absurd thought away.

Diane hurried forward, putting on a warm, graceful smile.

"Alaric." Her voice went honeyed.

Alaric turned his head.

His gaze passed over Diane's face without lingering, then settled on me behind her.

It was casual—like looking at someone who didn't matter. But when his eyes crossed my sleeve, his gaze paused for one second.

He gave a single nod and turned back to the field.