The glacial water of the Moon Lake filled my throat, pulling me down into the sunless depths.

Through the churning water, I saw Silas, the Alpha Crown Prince, standing on the shore, watching me drown.

In our past life, he dove in, triggering a fated bond that forced us to marry. I spent decades bleeding for his kingdom as his Luna, but he only ever loved my older sister, Isabella.

"You have laboured hard."

That was all he whispered on my deathbed. Not that he loved me. He spent his whole life mourning my sister's accidental death.

Now, as my lungs burned, a dreadful clarity hit me—he remembered. We had both been reborn to the night of the Mating Ball.

He wanted to fix his mistake. He meant to let me die, erasing the faulty beginning of our story so he could finally choose my sister.

I didn't feel sad or angry. Instead, the immense burden of my past life began to dissolve in the murky water.

If he wished to sever this twisted cord of fate, I would gladly lend him the blade.

I jammed a silver pin into my leg to kick free of my heavy boots and swam into the black heart of the lake.

This time, I would never let him use me again.

I would gladly hand him over to my sister, and marry the terrifying, "degenerate" Duke of the North instead.

Chapter 1

Seraphina POV

The glacial water of the Moon Lake filled my nose and throat, a shock so profound it felt like swallowing ice.

The cold was a physical weight, seeping through the boning of my heavy lace corset and pulling me down into the sunless depths.

I fought to open my eyes. Through the churning, murky water, I saw a figure silhouetted against the moon on the shore.

It was Silas. The Alpha Crown Prince of the Royal Pack.

He was looking down at the place where the ripples of my fall still spread. His amber eyes, which I had known for a lifetime, were flat and hard as gemstones.

Then, he turned his back and walked away.

He did not jump in to save me.

My lungs began to burn, but the searing pain brought with it a moment of dreadful clarity. He had not jumped. The man who, in a past life, would have flown into a rage if I'd so much as scraped my knee, now stood with his back to the lake. An absurd, yet singular thought, like a noxious weed, began to sprout in my mind—he remembered.

Silas had been reborn, just like I had.

Only an hour ago, I was an old woman lying on my deathbed.

In my past life, Silas was my husband. I was his Luna, the mother of the Royal Pack.

For decades, I managed the castle, balanced the finances, and bled for his kingdom.

But I was never the woman he truly wanted.

Silas had always loved my older sister, Isabella.

Tonight was the Mating Ball, an old rite where the moon was said to guide unwed wolves to their fated partners.

In my past life, Isabella spilled red wine on her lavish dress. She panicked and forced me to swap cloaks with her.

While I stayed by the lake to wash the stain, Isabella's rival sent a maid to push me into the water.

In that life, Silas saw the cloak. Thinking I was Isabella, he dove in.

When he pulled me out, our drenched skin met. It was not a spark, but a deep, resonant thrum that passed between us—the undeniable pull of a fated bond.

The Old King and the Elders saw us shivering in each other's arms. Driven by ancient werewolf laws, they forced us to mate.

Isabella was furious. She married a useless noble out of spite.

A few years later, her carriage was attacked by Rogues.

They were the unthinking exiles of our world—their forms caked in mud and gore, hissing nonsensically, having shed the last vestiges of their lupine dignity.

Isabella was torn to pieces. Silas spent the rest of his life mourning her, looking for her shadow in my eyes.

On my last night, he sat by my bed and whispered, "You have laboured hard."

Not "I love you." Just that.

Then I closed my eyes and woke up falling into this freezing lake.

Now, watching Silas walk away in his dark velvet suit, I understood.

He wanted to fix his mistake. He meant to let me drown, to erase the faulty beginning of our story at the bottom of this lake. He was not merely cruel—he was terrified. If I lived, the bond might ignite again. Only my death could guarantee his freedom to choose Isabella.

A bitter laugh tried to form in my throat, but it came out as a desperate gasp for air.

I did not feel sad. I did not feel angry.

Instead, I felt the immense burden of my past life—the endless ledgers, the courtly intrigues, the weight of his unspoken grief for my sister—begin to dissolve in the murky water around me.

If he wished to sever this twisted cord of fate, I would lend him the blade.

I stopped clawing for the surface. Water weeds tangled around my ankles, but I ceased my struggle. I had survived assassinations, wars, and Pack rebellions. A lungful of cold water was a quiet thing by comparison.

I snapped a steel rib from the boning of my own corset, jammed the sharp point into my calf, and used the clarifying pain to kick free of my waterlogged leather boots. Then I swam, not towards the moonlit surface, but deeper, into the black heart of the lake.

I was going to survive. And this time, I would never let another Alpha use me again.

As the darkness closed over my head, one thought burned brighter than the cold: Silas believed he was rewriting our fate by letting me die. He had no idea that his choice would be the very thing that set me free.

Seraphina POV

I pulled myself onto the muddy bank, gasping for the crisp night air.

A violent shiver seized my frame. The wind sliced through my soaked dress like a blade of ice.

A small gasp came from the bushes.

A young maid holding a pile of firewood dropped her basket. I could smell the faint, submissive scent of turned earth and milk that marked her as an Omega.

"Lady Seraphina!" she whispered, her voice tight with panic. "You're freezing!"

"You will not scream," I commanded, my voice a low rasp, yet steady. "Fetch a dry cloak from the carriages. You will tell no one you saw me."

She nodded quickly and ran off.

Minutes later, she returned with a heavy, dark green velvet cloak.

I wrapped it tightly around myself, hiding my wet hair under the large hood.

I slipped through the servants' entrance and stepped back into the great hall. Sharp stone arches loomed overhead like the ribs of a great beast, and heavy wrought-iron chandeliers cast a web of shadows upon the floor.

The room was a sea of glittering chandeliers, polished steel candelabras that gleamed like silver, and noble wolves in fine silk.

I stood in the shadows behind a massive stone pillar.

In the center of the room, Silas was on his knees. He was holding Isabella's hand.

Before them sat the Old King and the Elders on their high wooden thrones.

"Father," Silas's voice echoed through the silent hall. "The Moon Goddess has shown my blood its true course. Isabella is my destined Mate."

The Old King leaned forward. He sniffed the air, sensing the firm, dominant Alpha scent rolling off his son.

The instinct of an Alpha, once declared, was a current few dared to swim against.

"If the Goddess wills it, I grant this union," the Old King announced.

A low, collective growl of jealousy rippled through the unmarried she-wolves in the room.

Isabella stood up, her chest puffed out with pride. She shot a triumphant glare at the rival who had tried to drown me.

The rival tucked her chin down, submitting to the future Luna's dominance.

I watched Silas smile at my sister. It was a look of such unguarded joy, it seemed to smooth the harsh lines of his face.

A genuine smile touched my own lips. Good for them.

I turned to leave through the side corridor, but I bumped into someone smelling of rich roses and old magic.

It was the Queen. The current Luna of the Royal Pack.

A Luna was more than a wife; she was the Pack's anchor, her mind a silent web connecting every soul under her care.

I immediately dropped into a deep curtsy.

The Queen's gaze fell upon me, her sharp eyes catching the water that dripped from the hem of my borrowed hood. She paused, her nostrils flaring almost imperceptibly, as if she detected something far older and deeper than the scent of the lake.

"You carry the chill of the water, child," she murmured, a flicker of curiosity in her tone. "Yet you have veiled your own scent entirely. And beneath it… something else stirs."

"I did not wish my clumsiness to mar the Crown Prince's happiness, Your Majesty," I replied smoothly.

The Queen's eyes softened with approval. "You have restraint. The Finance Minister's second daughter, yes? The Omega."

An old nanny beside the Queen leaned in. "Yes, my Luna. The one who provided the lost recipe for the wolfsbane antidote last winter."

"A brilliant mind," the Queen whispered. "What a pity she is an Omega."

Before I could thank her, a heavy scent of rain and pine surrounded us.

Silas stepped into the corridor. His eyes locked onto me, hard and suspicious.

"Mother," he greeted the Queen, but his gaze never left my face.

He stepped closer to me. Suddenly, the air grew thick, pressing down.

My knees felt weak. My chest tightened.

He was using the Alpha's Command. It was a biological dominance that crushed the will of lesser wolves.

"Do not imagine that a display of meekness will win you a place on the royal ladder, Seraphina," his voice was a low, vibrating growl. "Know your station."

Isabella rushed over, grabbing his arm. "Leave her be, Silas. She is merely clumsy."

Silas sneered at me. "See that her clumsiness does not cross my path again."

Before he could turn away, the Queen's old nanny stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on Isabella's rival. "Your Majesty," the nanny said, her voice sharp as splintered bone, "that is Lady Annelise. And her personal maid was seen fleeing the lake shore moments before Lady Seraphina was found in this state." The Queen's face turned to ice. "Annelise of House Thorne," she declared, her voice cutting through the hall, "for attempting to harm a fellow wolf during the sacred Mating Ball, you will receive twenty lashes in the public square at dawn. Let this serve as a warning." Royal guards immediately seized the pale-faced rival, dragging her away as she began to sob. I watched it all unfold, my expression unreadable.

I kept my head bowed, hiding the cold fire in my eyes.

"As you command, Alpha," I said quietly.

I walked away into the dark night. I had survived the lake. I had survived his warning. But the Queen's lingering gaze had planted a seed I could not ignore—she had sensed something beneath my Omega scent, something ancient and waiting. If I was going to escape this life, I needed to move quickly, before anyone else noticed what I was becoming.

Seraphina POV

The next morning, my family's sprawling stone mansion, with its grim-faced gargoyles, was alive with wild celebration.

Servants carried polished steel trays of roasted meats and expensive wines.

Isabella was going to be the next Luna. My parents were drunk on the sudden power.

I sat quietly in my mother's dark study. The heavy velvet curtains blocked out the morning sun.

"Mother," I said, my voice cutting through her cheerful counting of gold coins. "I wish to be mated. I ask that you arrange a marriage for me."

She looked at me as if I were a speck of dirt on her expensive rug.

"You?" she scoffed. "You are an Omega. You offer no strength of arms to this family's standing."

She opened a drawer and tossed a stack of dusty parchments onto the table.

"Here. Pick a suitor from this refuse. See that you do not embarrass your sister in the process."

I leafed through the papers. They were profiles of low-level Betas and fallen nobles.

These were not the Pack's proud warriors, but men old, maimed, or disgraced.

I even saw the profile of the cowardly man Isabella had married in my past life.

I reached the bottom of the pile. My fingers brushed against a thick piece of parchment stamped with a blood-red moon crest.

I pulled it out. A sketched portrait of a man stared back at me.

He had sharp jawlines, messy dark hair, and eyes that looked bored with the world.

"Kaelen," I read the name aloud.

My mother snatched the paper from my hand with a look of disgust.

"Under no circumstances! He is the Alpha Duke of the Bloodmoon Pack. He holds the Northern Border."

"He is an Alpha," I pointed out. "Why is his profile in this pile of cast-offs?"

"Because the Elders forced that filth upon us! He is a degenerate!" my mother spat. "A brute who spends his years carousing with mud-sodden commoners in Northern taverns, his bloodline thinned by cheap ale. He consorts with Rogues!"

Her voice dropped, laced with a venomous practicality. "And more to the point—the Royal Council has decreed that any noble house which allies with the Northern Duke will have its inheritance rights downgraded. The Old King fears Kaelen's military power. Marrying him would strip your sister of half her future titles. I will not have this family's standing gutted for an Omega's whim!"

She threw the paper back at me. "While you two pieces of refuse might suit one another, I will not have this family's name dragged through the mire of his reputation!"

I stared at Kaelen's portrait. My heart beat a little faster.

I knew the truth. In my past life, Kaelen was no degenerate.

He was the most terrifying war machine in the kingdom. He controlled the military.

He only pretended to be a fool so the Old King would not feel threatened and kill him.

But why did he submit a marriage profile? In my past life, he never married. He died alone on the battlefield.

Before I could think further, the study doors crashed open.

Isabella stormed in, wearing a tight, ruby-red corset dress.

"I am overcome with boredom!" she whined. "Silas is sequestered until the Full Moon passes."

The Full Moon. It was the time of the month when a werewolf's inner beast was strongest.

Alphas became aggressive, restless, and deeply territorial. They needed to isolate themselves to avoid hurting others.

"You will accompany me, Seraphina," Isabella demanded. "We are going to the night market."

My mother immediately nodded. "Go. Attend to your sister. If a single hair on the future Luna's head is harmed, I shall have you whipped."

The day wore on under my mother's ceaseless, critical gaze. It was not until dusk painted the sky in shades of bruised purple that Isabella, her patience worn thin, finally dragged me to the waiting carriage. I said nothing. I just followed Isabella out.

The night market was a chaotic maze of pointed, black canvas pavilions that stood in the gloom like a row of dark, collapsing funeral tents, magic herb stalls, and weapon smiths displaying silver-edged blades behind glass cases, their deadly edges meant for human hands to wield against our kind.

Isabella walked ahead, kicking over a poor merchant's basket of apples because it was in her way.

Suddenly, my nose caught a familiar scent. Rain and pine.

I stopped walking.

Isabella smelled it too. She squealed in delight and ran forward.

"Silas!"

She threw herself into the arms of the Crown Prince, who was standing near a potion stall.

Silas wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head, trying to calm his restless inner wolf.

But as he held Isabella, he lifted his head.

His amber eyes locked directly onto me.

The look in his eyes was not one of love. It was a dark, possessive claim—a warning that coiled in the pit of my stomach. He had just publicly pledged himself to my sister, yet his gaze tracked me through the crowd as if I were prey that had wandered too far from his territory.