Chapter 1

"When the moon goddess designated Catherine and my brother as fated mates, I said nothing. But she was always meant to be mine."

"We were each other's first love."

"Now my brother is dead. She can finally be mine, and no one can say otherwise."

My fiancé, Killian, has been kneeling outside my father’s estate for three days and three nights.

He begs me to reject him of my own accord so that he might marry Katherine instead.

“Elara, you are the heir to the Red Moon Tribe. You possess everything; I beg you—reject me. Let Katherine be my mate.”

In my previous life, I refused.

Consequently, on the very night of the bonding ceremony meant to unite Killian and me, Katherine swallowed silver-poison and took her own life.

For this, Killian loathed me to the very bone.

After we completed the marking ritual, he never entered my bedchamber again.

Later, building upon the foundation provided by my family, he finally secured a firm foothold for the Graystone Pack.

He forced a draught of wolfsbane poison down my throat, watching as I writhed in agony on the floor, and snarled through clenched teeth:

“You are the one who killed Katherine. Once you are dead, your corpse will be hung high in the Red Moon Tribe’s territory. That will be the punishment for your father.”

In this life, I gazed at the man kneeling before the estate gates and smiled.

“By the Moon Goddess above, I, Elara, hereby reject Killian as my mate.”

......

“Elara, Killian has been kneeling out there for three days now. Is this his way of trying to force your compliance? The audacity!”

“He wants to marry his own brother’s mate—a desire for which his own father already gave him a sound thrashing. Now he’s playing the pitiful victim to pressure you. Does he really think our tribe is a pushover?”

My maidservant, Rosie, stormed into the room, her face flushed crimson with indignation.

I recalled the day Killian first arrived at my father’s doorstep, pleading with me to dissolve our betrothal.

The news that the heir to the Graystone Tribe had been kneeling for three days and three nights had already spread throughout the entire territory of the wolf packs.

A large crowd of wolves had gathered at the gates, pointing fingers and whispering amongst themselves.

Standing just inside the doorway, I let out a long, slow breath.

Killian had no choice but to come to me.

To marry one’s own brother’s former mate—that was a scandal. The Alpha and Luna of the Graystone Tribe would never agree to this.

But if *I* were the one to reject him—if I broke off the engagement of my own accord—then he could claim that *he* was the one who had been cast aside.

That way, his parents would have no grounds to object.

And so, he knelt here, pressuring me—using the very persona of elegance and grace I had once cultivated for myself—to force my consent.

A woman clad in white approached Killian and knelt down beside him.

As Killian recognized the newcomer, his face filled with a mixture of heartache and urgent concern.

"Katherine, what are you doing here? This has nothing to do with you. I will speak to Alala personally. You are frail, and your wolf spirit is unstable. Go back at once."

Katherine shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Killian, this is simply my wretched fate. Please, stop pleading on my behalf."

"Alala comes from a noble lineage; how could she possibly understand my suffering? My mate is dead, and my own family refuses to take me back."

"Yet, even so, I cannot bear to see you hurt yourself like this just to protect me."

Killian caught her just before she collapsed.

"Katherine, I swear I will look after you for the rest of my life. My brother is gone; protecting you is now my duty."

The moment he saw me step through the gates, he immediately raised his voice.

"Alala, you are the daughter of the Red Moon Tribe's Alpha. You know the difference between right and wrong. Look at how Katherine suffers—I beg you, release me from our engagement and allow me to be with her."

I fixed my gaze upon the gray garment Katherine was wearing.

Everyone around her assumed she dressed so plainly out of mourning—as a tribute to her late husband.

But no one else noticed the true nature of that garment—a fabric so rare that, throughout the entire tribe, scarcely a handful of people could ever hope to possess it.

Killian guarded her as if she were a precious treasure; she looked nothing like a woman who had ever known hardship.

My wolf, Laura, let out a furious growl.