Kira POV:

My consciousness gradually faded, my inner wolf's whimpers growing weaker until she fell completely silent.

I slipped into darkness, consumed by a fierce, burning hatred. I didn't hear the door being smashed open, nor did I see Donavan—who had always been so cold to me—looking down at me with a trace of agony and remorse.

Sienna's demeanor shifted in a split second. Her face crumpled into a mask of feigned sorrow. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing.

"Oh, Donavan! I tried, I really tried, but Kira... she wasn't strong enough..."

Donavan shoved her away roughly and dropped to his knees beside my bed with a heavy thud.

He reached out a trembling hand, brushing a strand of hair from my icy cheek. His touch was shockingly gentle.

Then, a roar was torn from his throat. A low, hoarse howl—not of triumph, but of pure, unadulterated agony.

Sienna froze. This wasn't part of the plan. He was supposed to feel relieved. Free.

Tears, real and glistening, welled up in Donavan's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He gathered my limp body into his arms, crushing me tightly against his chest.

"No," he choked out, burying his face in my hair. "No, it wasn't supposed to be like this."

He murmured to himself, lost in a hell of his own making. "Kira... come back... please..."

*

I bolted upright in bed, gasping for air, cold sweat drenching my skin. The phantom pain of the wolfsbane burning my throat was so real that I dry-heaved.

My hands flew to my stomach.

Flat. Warm.

There was no hollow emptiness, no lingering trauma of childbirth.

My gaze swept across the room. This wasn't the blood-stained chamber where I had died.

It was my childhood bedroom, with its white lace curtains and the familiar, comforting scent of lavender and old books.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting golden stripes across the wooden floor. It was peaceful, yet brimming with life.

A wild thought surfacing in my mind, I scrambled out of bed and stumbled over to the full-length mirror.

The girl reflected in the glass was young.

Her face was unlined, her eyes sparkling with a glint of innocence I thought had been extinguished long ago.

This must be a dream.

I pinched the soft skin of my arm hard. A sharp, unmistakable sting shot through me.

Not a dream.

"Lady Kira! Why are you out of bed? The ceremony is about to begin." My maid, Clara, hurried into the room. She stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing me standing there in a thin nightgown, my hair a tangled mess.

"Ceremony?" My brain felt sluggish, clouded with confusion.

Clara looked at me as if I had grown a second head. "Your Mating Ceremony with Alpha Donavan, of course! The entire pack is waiting for you."

Her words struck me like a physical blow. My inner wolf howled in my mind, confirming my wildest suspicion.

The Mating Ceremony.

Five years ago.

The day the nightmare began.

I had been reborn.

Kira POV:

A dizzying, almost hysterical wave of relief washed over me, immediately followed by fragments of my past life flooding my brain. The impact was so intense that my knees buckled. Clara rushed forward to steady me, a worried expression etched on her face.

"Are you alright, My Lady? You've gone completely pale."

I shook my head, forcing myself to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale.

"Clara, I had a nightmare. A very, very long nightmare..."

In that dream, after being poisoned by Sienna, I became a wandering soul.

I saw Donavan guarding my corpse, weeping for what felt like an eternity, spewing endless words of regret. But thinking of the atrocities he had committed against my pack, his words felt utterly hypocritical and nauseating.

I also saw Lord Andreas Stark, a reclusive and formidable Lycan Lord, infamous for his icy demeanor and obsessive germaphobia.

In my vision, I watched him kick Donavan across the room, before snapping Donavan's fingers one by one like a madman.

He unleashed hellish retribution upon the Chambers Pack, exposing Donavan and Sienna's crimes to the entire werewolf nation.

He even spent an immense amount of time gathering evidence to clear my family's name, ultimately executing Donavan and Sienna's entire families for framing the Atkinsons.

Afterward, I saw him standing before my humble, unmarked grave, his expression filled with a profound, bone-deep sorrow.

I watched him live out his long Lycan life entirely alone, never taking a mate, eternally guarding the memory of a girl he barely knew—a girl rumored by the outside world to be wolfless.

I honestly didn't understand why he had avenged me. Why would such a powerful Lycan Lord care about me?

In my past life, I barely knew him. We might have exchanged a few polite pleasantries at formal banquets, but that was it. He was a distant, intimidating figure.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was that I knew now. In this vast, cruel world, someone had genuinely mourned me. Someone had fought for me.

That realization settled deep within my soul like a core of solid steel. It fortified my resolve. I would not let his sacrifices be in vain. I would not repeat the same mistakes.

I opened my eyes. The girl in the mirror was gone. That naive, gullible fool was dead and buried.

In her place stood a woman forged in fire and reborn from the ashes.

And the very first thing I needed to do now was figure out how to cancel this damned Mating Ceremony.