Chapter 4

"I'm the Alpha's son. From the day I was born, everyone's obedience came from bloodline dominance."

"They fear me. They respect me. All because of the power behind my name."

"Including you, Serena — if there were no betrothal between our packs, would you have chosen me?"

In my past life, those words had left me speechless.

Our alliance was the only reason we'd ended up together. Remove that, and there was nothing left to talk about.

"Only Faye — a rogue who'd lost her ability to shift — saved me without knowing who I was. She gave up the most precious thing she had."

"How could I feel nothing after a sacrifice like that?"

I hadn't been able to argue.

Growing up, the Elders had hammered the same lesson into me over and over: every move an Alpha's daughter makes must serve a purpose.

Throwing yourself into the fire on blind impulse? That wasn't something I was built for.

But after being reborn, the holes in his logic were laughable.

When Damien fell off that cliff, he'd been wearing Shadow Pack battle armor. On his chest was the pack crest — forged from black meteorite, a symbol exclusive to Alpha bloodlines. Only five existed in the entire wolf alliance.

Even a blind woman would've known from touching that armor alone that the wolf she was saving was no ordinary one.

The whole "she didn't know who he was" story? It had been calculated from the very start.

"Stop!"

Damien's voice cracked through the hall like a whip, his Alpha dominance flooding the room. Every sound died instantly, as if someone had pulled the plug.

Faye's body went rigid. Slowly, she lifted her forehead from the stone.

Blood was still running down her face. She didn't wipe it. She just stared at me with those pitiful eyes.

I knew that look all too well. In my past life, she'd used it to wait for me to say "enough" so she could gracefully exit the scene.

This time, I wasn't playing along.

I swirled the blood wine in my palm and raised an eyebrow.

Faye clenched her jaw, lowered her head again, and braced her hands on the floor to keep going.

Damien crossed the distance in a single stride, grabbed the wrist holding my cup, and squeezed.

Hard enough to grind bone.

The wine cup shattered in his grip. Shards bit into my palm. Blood ran down between my fingers.

"Serena, look at her! Look at what she's done to herself!"

"Do you even have a heart?"

He crouched down, pulled Faye into his arms, and dabbed at her forehead with his sleeve. His voice went low and aching.

Then he looked up at me, eyes glacial. "Apologize. Right now. In front of everyone."

I glanced down at my palm, bleeding where the shards had cut in.

I almost laughed.

In my past life, the first thing I did after discovering Faye's deception was send a sealed letter to Damien through a trusted messenger.

Time, location, every detail of her secret shifting behind the compound, the black-market suppressant deal — all of it, laid out clearly.

I'd urged him to investigate.

Three days later, Faye was dead.

Damien sent one line back through the messenger: "Thank you. Anyone who dares deceive me won't be left breathing."

I'd believed him. I thought he'd uncovered the truth and dealt with the liar himself.

That was exactly the kind of thing he'd do — he was always ruthlessly decisive when it came to debts and betrayals.

But eight years later, in the split second that silver spike pierced the back of my neck, I finally understood.

The "liar" he'd been talking about was never Faye.

It was me.

"Serena, are you even listening to me?"

"I'm the one ending this betrothal. Faye hasn't done anything wrong."

I looked down at the wounds on my palm and let the corner of my mouth twist.

"Lina." I turned to her. "There are Grand Elders from the Alliance Council in the rear hall, aren't there?"

Lina blinked, then nodded.

I flicked the blood from my fingertips, gathered the hem of my ceremonial robe, and headed straight for the rear hall.

By the time Damien realized what was happening and came after me, I was already several steps ahead. "Wait — the Grand Elders didn't come publicly. You're going to—"

I didn't look back.