Claire POV:

In my past life, I took a poisoned arrow with my bare hands to pave my fiancé's path to the throne. But on the eve of his coronation, right in front of my bloody interrogation table, my best friend was pressed against his chest, letting out sweet, coquettish moans.

Holding her, he sneered that my scarred hands were too dirty, and methodically chopped my fingers off, one by one.

He forced me to my knees to watch as 72 members of my family—even the month-old infants—were beheaded in the public square. Their warm blood completely soaked my white wedding dress.

Biting into my bleeding stumps, I swore a blood curse. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the morning of my wedding day.

This time, to hell with true love! In the middle of a torrential storm, I hijacked another bridal carriage. I ripped off my luxurious veil and smashed it onto a terrified, weeping bride.

"You want the perfect Alpha?" I told her. "He's yours."

Without looking back, I marched straight into the lair of Caiden Gregory. He was the dominion's most terrifying "Mate-Killer"—a bloodthirsty monster rumored to feast on human flesh. To drag my ex to hell, I willingly sacrificed myself to a true demon.

But the second we completed the sacred mating bond before the dark altar... The "monster" forcefully grabbed my waist and slammed me against the cold stone.

A soul-shaking electric jolt ignited my blood. He was my true Fated Mate?!

His stormy gray eyes pierced right through my disguise. With a ruthless tear, he ripped off my stolen veil, the deadly point of his Alpha fangs grazing my pulse.

"You're not the cowardly rabbit they sent me," he growled, a predatory hunger darkening his eyes. "Since you went through so much trouble to crawl into my territory... let's see if you actually have the life force to survive our wedding night, my beautiful... fake bride."

——

The heavy, rust-scented air of the dungeon was suffocating, but it was the sickening sound of flesh slapping against flesh and breathless moans that jolted me awake from my unconsciousness.

I forced my swollen eyes open. Through the matted, blood-soaked silver fur hanging over my face, a scene straight out of hell burned into my retinas.

Just a few feet away from the iron pillar where I was chained, my fated mate—the Alpha King to whom all packs now bowed, Erich Blackburn—had my best friend pressed roughly against the stone interrogation table.

The overpowering, nauseating scent of their intermingling pheromones flooded my sensitive wolf senses. Kenya, my supposed best friend, threw her head back, letting out a breathy, coquettish moan. But as Erich buried his face in her neck to mark her, she tilted her head, locking eyes with me over his broad shoulder.

While crying out Erich's name in feigned ecstasy, she deliberately wrapped her bare legs tighter around his waist, flaunting her triumph to me like a predator showing off its prey.

My heart felt like it was being thrown into a meat grinder, pulverized into dust.

Soon, Erich finished. He casually adjusted his immaculate royal coat. His icy, disdainful gaze landed on my mangled body, looking at me as if I were a rat in the gutter.

"Wake her up properly," he ordered coldly, wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief.

Splash!

A bucket of freezing saltwater was violently dashed over me. The agonizing sting sliced through my open wounds like a thousand glass shards, making my entire body convulse uncontrollably against the heavy chains.

Erich stepped closer, looking down at me from his high horse as he tossed a parchment confession in front of me. "Watching me mark another woman right in front of you... feeling the Mate bond backlash tearing your soul apart... it must hurt like hell, doesn't it?"

He sighed, his voice dripping with a sickeningly hypocritical pity. "Claire, I didn't want to punish you like this. It breaks my heart to see you suffer. If you know what's good for you, just put your fingerprint on this confession. As long as you admit your mistakes, I will forgive you. You can still stay in the palace, and you won't have to endure this torture anymore. Understand?"

I bit my lip so hard it bled, fighting through the excruciating pain to lift my heavy head. Seeing his disgusting, arrogant face—so entirely convinced that I was still madly in love with him, still fighting for his affection—a bloody, raspy scoff escaped my throat.

"Confess? To what?" I glared at him, spitting out every word with pure venom. "To being blind enough to lead the fiercest warriors of the Bryant Pack through hell and back, just to put a pathetic, exiled bastard who was worse than a stray dog onto the throne?"

His hypocritical facade instantly froze, then twisted into a mask of absolute, unhinged fury. He lunged forward, grabbing me by the hair and slamming my face brutally against the freezing stone floor.

"Shut your mouth!" he roared, his handsome face grotesque with inferiority and rage as he completely dropped the act. "Did you really think your self-righteous sacrifices moved me?! You took a blade for me, you killed for me, and you thought that was love? No! It only made me nauseous! Every time I looked at you, or that arrogant grandfather of yours, I felt like a beggar surviving on your pathetic charity!"

Before I could recover from the dizzying blow, Kenya hastily pulled her dress up and coiled herself around Erich’s arm like a poisonous viper.

"My Alpha, please don't be angry..." Kenya sobbed into his chest, expertly adding fuel to the fire. "Sister has always been too domineering. Relying on her family's merits, she never truly respected you as the King. But our baby was innocent... He was only three months along, yet she poisoned him out of pure jealousy. It’s my fault! An Omega as lowly as me shouldn't have accepted your love..."

Erich's eyes darkened with venomous malice as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Don't cry, my sweet Kenya. You are simply too kind to her. I will get justice for you right now!"

He kicked the back of my knees violently and drew a silver dagger. The blade glinted menacingly under the flickering torchlight. Crouching down, he pinned my wrist against the floor with his heavy combat boot, spreading my hand right next to the confession parchment.

"Since you refuse to sign, This hand is useless to me," he murmured, tracing the cold flat of the blade over my trembling fingers. "Years ago, you used these hands to block a poisoned arrow for me, nearly dying to snatch me back from the Reaper. But look at them now, Claire. Look how ugly they are. They are stained with the blood of my political rivals, and now, the blood of my unborn pup. They are so dirty... they make me sick to my stomach."

Crunch.

A searing, bone-shattering agony shot up my arm. I stared in numb, wide-eyed horror as my ring finger was severed cleanly from the base. Blood sprayed across the gray stone.

Before I could even process the mutilation, the blade rose and fell again.

The silver blade chewed through my flesh and bone, one after another like a meat cleaver. I couldn't even scream. The sheer magnitude of the pain stole every ounce of air from my lungs, leaving me gasping in a silent, grotesque void as my body thrashed wildly on the floor.

Through the red mist of my pain, Kenya casually unwrapped a delicate little pastry. "Oh, Alpha, the blood is going to ruin your beautiful boots," she pouted, feeding the pastry to Erich's mouth, smiling as sweetly as if they were enjoying a sunny picnic in the royal gardens, completely ignoring the mutilated woman bleeding out at their feet.

Erich chewed the pastry, wiped his mouth, and stood up. He stepped heavily onto my bleeding, mangled hand, his towering figure casting a dark shadow over me.

"Claire Bryant. As the fated mate of the Alpha King, you failed to bear me an heir in five years. Driven by malicious jealousy, you murdered the pup in Kenya’s womb and audaciously poisoned the Queen Mother." Erich coldly pronounced my doom, his voice echoing in the dungeon. "Your sins are unforgivable. Tomorrow at dawn, you, and the entire bloodline of the Bryant Pack, shall be executed!"

I threw my head up, rage shattered my reason. I let out a bloodcurdling wolf howl and lunged at him desperately, wanting nothing more than to rip his throat out—

BAM!

A suffocating wave of Alpha Aura erupted from Erich, slamming into my back like an invisible mountain. I was crushed face-first into the pool of my own blood. My bones groaned and cracked under the absolute suppression; I couldn't even twitch a muscle.

Watching me struggle like an insect, Erich crouched down and yanked my head up by the hair. His voice was a venomous hiss. "Your grandfather is suspected of conspiring with Rogues and inciting rebellion. And thanks to your 'crimes', the evidence of him shielding you is now irrefutable. I’m doing you a favor by letting your whole family reunite before the Moon Goddess's judgment seat. You should thank me."

He paused, a cruel, calculating smirk playing on his lips. "However... if you use your blood to sign this confession, taking all the blame yourself and proving your grandfather had no part in this... I might consider sparing his and your pack members' pathetic lives. They will be branded as Rogues and banished to the Deadlands. But at least, they will keep breathing."

"An Alpha King never goes back on his word."

The despair in my eyes slowly hardened into a dead, frantic resolve.

If my life alone could buy even a sliver of a chance for the Bryant Pack's survival... I would gladly burn in hell.

Trembling, I raised my mutilated hand—now missing three fingers—and pressed the bloody, severed stumps heavily onto the confession parchment, leaving a gruesome bloody handprint.

Erich Blackburn, Kenya Pennington... if there is a next life, I will crawl my way out of hell, and I will use my own teeth to tear your throats out.

Claire POV:

However, I vastly underestimated the shamelessness of a beast.

When I was brutally dragged onto the execution block, the glaring sunlight stung my swollen eyes. But what stung infinitely more were the familiar faces bound to the wooden posts across the square.

My grandfather, my pack members, my blood kin... all seventy-two of them, heavily chained before the chopping blocks. They hadn't even spared the newborn pups who were barely a month old!

The crowd of commoners below was restless, a sea of bewildered whispers. No one could believe that the fiercely loyal, righteous, and benevolent Bryant Pack could commit such heinous crimes of treason and murder.

I was forced to my knees on the rough wooden platform. My eyes nearly tore at the seams as I glared at Erich, who sat comfortably on his high throne. "You swore an oath!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "You said if I confessed, you would banish them! You promised to leave them a way out!"

Erich looked down at me from his towering height, a chilling, merciless smirk curving his lips. "I did promise to let them live, Claire. I just never specified... for how long."

He lazily raised his hand, and with the casualness of brushing off a speck of dust, he let it drop.

"NO—!!!"

My grandfather, the once-invincible Chief Elder who had bled and sweated his entire life for the werewolf packs, looked at me one last time. There was no resentment in his old eyes, only profound, agonizing sorrow and pity for my naivety. “Claire, my silly girl...” he mouthed silently. “Don't cry.”

"Execute them!" Erich's cold command echoed across the square.

The executioners raised their massive silver broadswords high into the air.

SCHLICK—

The sickening, synchronized sound of blades slicing through bone and flesh. Seventy-two heads rolled from the chopping blocks at the exact same second. Warm, crimson blood erupted into the air like geysers, instantly dyeing the stone square a horrific red.

Crimson flooded my vision. A deafening, explosive ringing shattered my eardrums. Seventy-two vibrant lives, my family, the very foundation of my pack... slaughtered like cattle right before my eyes.

A roar that didn't even sound human tore from my shredded throat—the long, desolate, and bloodcurdling howl of a mother wolf who had just lost everything.

"Erich! Kenya! You treacherous, despicable animals!" I lunged toward the throne like a madwoman, only to be brutally kicked in the stomach by a guard, sending me tumbling down the steep stone steps of the platform like a broken ragdoll.

I lay in the pooling blood, staring at the severed head of a pack member that had rolled to a stop right in front of me.

Suddenly, I stopped crying.

Pushing myself up with my hands, I slowly knelt upright and burst into a fit of uncontrollable, maniacal laughter. Two streams of blood-tinged tears poured from my eyes, burning hot trails through the grime on my face.

Without a second of hesitation, I shoved my mangled hand into my mouth and bit down viciously on the freshly formed scabs of my severed fingers.

Thick, dark blood welled up instantly. With a trembling yet resolute hand, using my own soul as the conduit, I began to frantically draw an ancient Blood Oath totem on the stone ground. It was a forbidden ritual whispered about only in the darkest grimoires—a ritual that didn't ask the Moon Goddess for mercy, but summoned demons for vengeance.

"I, Claire Bryant!" I rasped, my voice hoarse but terrifyingly steady, every syllable dripping with lethal venom. "I offer the blood of the Bryant Pack as a sacrifice, and I wager my immortal soul across all lifetimes—"

The air in the square instantly dropped to freezing. A sourceless, howling wind swept through the execution grounds, carrying what sounded like the agonizing wails of my seventy-two slaughtered kin.

"I curse Erich Blackburn! I curse Kenya Pennington!" I screamed, my voice rising with the very last ounce of life in my dying body. "May your lives be plagued by endless torment! May your deaths be agonizingly slow and filled with despair! I will make you suffer a thousand times the pain you have inflicted upon me today!!!"

The moment the blood totem was complete, it flared with a blinding, sinister crimson light.

Time seemed to freeze. I felt my soul being violently ripped apart by an unstoppable, raging force, plunging me into an endless, dark abyss.

...

I didn't know how long had passed.

Light. A piercing, glaring light. The sound of chattering voices. The cloying, sweet scent of blooming roses and lilies. The crisp chirping of birds...

My eyes snapped open. Like a drowning victim finally breaking the surface, I bolted upright in a soft bed, gasping greedily for air.

I looked around frantically. I was in a lavishly decorated bedroom, sunlight pouring in through massive floor-to-ceiling windows.

Instinctively, I looked down and raised my hands. Ten fingers. Slender, pale, and flawless. No scars. No blood. No missing pieces.

Just then, a sickeningly sweet voice, laced with fake concern, chimed right beside my bed. "Claire? What's wrong? You're so pale, you look like you've seen a ghost. Are you getting pre-wedding jitters because you're about to marry Erich today?"

I turned my head stiffly.

Kenya Pennington was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing her signature innocent, sweet smile. She reached out, wanting to affectionately cover my hand with hers. "Oh, don't be nervous. Erich is such a perfect mate. You're going to be the happiest Queen in the world."

The moment her skin was about to touch mine, the phantom pain of my severed fingers shot up my arm like a lightning bolt. A violent wave of physical, acidic nausea churned in my stomach, rising straight to my throat.

Smack!

Without a second thought, I slapped her hand away viciously.

Ignoring Kenya's shocked and stiffened expression, I stared dead into her hypocritical face. Hearing her words—about to marry Erich today—a chilling, earth-shattering realization washed over my entire being.

I was absolutely certain. The Moon Goddess, or perhaps the demons of hell, had heard my Blood Oath.

I was reborn.

I had actually returned to the very day I was supposed to marry Erich—the exact starting point of all my tragedies.

Looking at the flustered Kenya, a bone-chilling, predatory smirk slowly curved my lips.

Since you let me crawl my way back from hell... this time, it's your turn to burn.

Claire POV:

"Claire?" Kenya looked at me, feigning hurt.

Her fake, concerned gaze made a wave of physical nausea churn in my stomach. I quickly lowered my eyes, letting my silver hair fall forward to conceal the raging inferno of hatred burning within them.

I forced my body to tremble, making my voice sound fragile and pathetic. "I... I just had a nightmare," I whispered, grabbing her sleeve as if she were my lifeline. "It was terrifying. I dreamt Erich and you... you both wanted me dead."

Kenya's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second, a flash of panic in her eyes, but she quickly recovered. She patted my shoulder with practiced affection. "Oh, you silly girl. It's just pre-wedding jitters. Erich loves you so much, and I am your best friend! How could we ever hurt you?"

I gripped the bedsheets so tightly my knuckles turned white, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress the urge to rip her throat out right then and there.

Just then, the bedroom door clicked open. A young woman in a simple maid's uniform hurried in, carrying a delicate tray holding my bridal veil and jewelry. Desiree Frederick.

My heart violently clenched, a sharp, physical spasm of pain and overwhelming guilt hitting my chest.

Desiree and I grew up together. Though we were technically master and servant, we were as close as sisters. She was fiercely loyal to me.

In my past life, when I was framed and thrown into the dungeon, Desiree tried to sneak out to beg my grandfather for help. Kenya caught her. She was beaten to a bloody pulp right in front of my eyes. Kenya, laughing, had ordered the guards to shatter Desiree's knees and rip out her wolf fangs. Even as her bones ground into dust, my loyal maid didn't let out a single cry of pain. Her last words, choked with her own blood, were a breathless plea for me to survive.

Desiree. My loyal, foolish Desiree, I thought, my eyes burning. In this life, if anyone dares to touch a single hair on your head, I will butcher their entire bloodline.

"My Lady! Why did you take your veil off? Alpha Erich's procession will be here any minute! We need to get you ready!" Desiree fussed, rushing over with genuine worry.

Only then did I realize I was already wearing the heavy, extravagant white wedding dress. Looking at my perfectly made-up face in the vanity mirror, a wave of surreal dizziness hit me.

On this exact day in my past life, I was completely blind to the monster hiding beneath Erich’s handsome exterior. I was madly in love with him, harboring the shy, blushing fantasies of a young girl about to marry her prince. But all those dreams were brutally shredded the moment he secured his crown. He drained every last drop of value the Bryant Pack could offer, and then slaughtered my entire family.

Smiling, Kenya reached for my hand again, pulling me from my dark thoughts. "Claire, you look absolutely breathtaking today. Erich is so lucky to have you. With the Bryant Pack's backing, he will definitely become the Alpha King. Later, when you are the Queen, you mustn't forget your best sister, okay?"

Right. If he becomes the Alpha King.

Currently, Erich was not the King. The reigning Alpha King had several sons. Erich was merely the most unremarkable, overlooked bastard son among the pack, treated worse than a stray dog.

In my past life, the King had actually intended for me to marry the legitimate heir. But I was blind and foolishly insisted on marrying Erich. Because of my stubbornness, my grandfather mobilized the entire military might of the Bryant Pack to back Erich, eventually paving his bloody path to the throne. I gave him the crown, and he gave me a mass execution.

But in this life...

I took a sip of the water Kenya gave me, letting the cold liquid soothe my dry throat. My mind raced, sorting through the chaotic memories, searching for an escape route.

Running away wasn't an option. The estate was crawling with elite guards. A bride running around in a massive white gown wouldn't make it a hundred yards before being dragged back.

Then, a memory flashed in my mind. There was another mating ceremony happening today in the Dominion.

Caiden Gregory. The Alpha of the Blackmoon Pack.

He was a God of War who struck terror into the hearts of every werewolf in the kingdom. Despite his young age, his power and ruthlessness were nearly on par with my grandfather's.

I turned to Kenya, forcing a fragile, curious expression onto my face. "You know," I began softly, "I was just thinking... what a coincidence it is. Isn't the Alpha of the Blackmoon Pack also having his mating ceremony today?"

Kenya immediately rolled her eyes, her face twisting in sheer disgust. "Ugh, don't even mention him. Everyone knows he’s a hideous monster who hides behind a mask. He's a bloodthirsty warmonger afflicted with some cursed illness. Rumor has it he eats human flesh and drinks blood. He's already had several Lunas, and every single one of them died within seven days. Today, another poor girl is being sacrificed to that tyrant. Honestly, she's probably the unluckiest person in the entire Dominion today."

A bloodthirsty tyrant? I sneered inwardly. Perfect. Compared to the hypocritical demon I married in my past life, a monster sounds like a saint.

"Poor girl?" I pressed, keeping my tone casual. "Do you know who she is?"

Kenya tapped her chin, clearly relishing her role as the local gossip. "Hmm, I think it's the daughter of some Beta from the Sunstone Pack. Anabel Davis? Her family traded her for some lucrative trade routes. I heard she's been locked in her room crying for days, trying to hang herself."

Anabel Davis. I repeated the name in my head.

A crazy, audacious plan began to take shape in the darkest corners of my mind.

I stood up, smoothing down the heavy satin of my wedding dress.

"I think... I think I just need a few minutes alone to collect myself," I said to Kenya, my voice soft and apologetic.

"Of course, sweetie. Take your time. But don't keep your Alpha waiting too long, okay?" She winked playfully before slipping out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, the fragile facade vanished from my face, replaced by a chilling, absolute resolve. I turned to the only person in this world I could truly trust. I grabbed Desiree’s hands, gripping them tightly, and looked dead into her eyes.

"Desiree," I said, my voice low, intense, and deadly serious. "I need you to do something for me. No questions asked. My life depends on it."