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."