Choosing the Outcast Alpha

After my bastard sister Lyla was slaughtered, my mate, Alpha Lukas, and I crafted 99 soul crystals in her memory. But on the battlefield, he murdered me.

It was then I learned he hated me for preventing his Mating with Lyla.

They had been lovers all along.

"I choose Lord Lukas of the Redfang Pack."

The moment the words left my mouth, I snapped awake.

I had been reborn. Sent back to the day my father, the Alpha of Alphas, commanded me to choose my mate.

The blinding light from the crystal chandeliers stung my eyes, a cruel reminder of the silver blade that pierced my heart in my past life.

The Blood-Pact Ceremony. My coming-of-age.

I was here again.

The Great Hall was packed with the Alfen Lords of the North.

Every pureblood Alpha wore his pack's colors.

Their predatory eyes watched, waiting to see who the heir to the mighty Silvermoon Pack would choose.

After all, my father was the Alpha of Alphas, lord of the entire Northern Alliance.

Lukas rose to his feet.

His golden hair shone under the lights, the blood-red cloak of the Redfang Pack swirling behind him.

He commanded the strongest army and ruled the richest lands.

In my first life, I had loved him with all my heart.

"I refuse."

His voice cracked through the hall like thunder.

The entire hall fell silent.

"What?" My father half-rose from his throne, his voice a choked whisper.

Lukas's blue eyes stared at me with a coldness I now knew all too well. "I will only mate with Lyla."

He turned to look at the girl sitting at a side table.

My half-sister. The Alpha's bastard.

She wore a white dress, the very picture of purity and innocence.

"Lyla is more worthy of becoming a true Luna," Lukas said, his voice dripping with contempt. "At least she wouldn't stand by and watch her own sister die."

My heart stopped.

He had been reborn, too.

Memories of my past life crashed down on me.

In my first life, I chose Lukas, the strongest and most handsome Alpha.

Our Mating was a success. Lyla, as a bastard, could only choose a common beta.

They were attacked by vampires in the forest, and the beta was too weak to save them.

Her distress call never reached our pack.

They both died.

My sorrow was deep, but Lukas showed nothing.

He just gently invited me to craft 99 soul crystals for Lyla.

But I never imagined he was secretly in love with her.

He hated me for taking the place that should have been hers.

He even suspected I had deliberately blocked Lyla's distress call.

Later, Lukas betrayed me on the battlefield, sacrificing me to an ancient god of the Abyss.

He plunged a silver dagger straight into my heart.

He said it was all to save the one he truly loved—Lyla.

"You..." My father roared, his hand flying to his sword.

"Enough." I stood, my voice so calm it startled even myself.

All eyes were on me.

Lyla sat there, a glint of triumph in her eyes.

I scanned the hall, my gaze sweeping past the powerful lords until it landed on a figure at the very edge.

He was seated beside the human envoys, far from the pureblood nobles.

He was leaner than the other Alphas, his long black hair hiding half his face.

The half-breed Alpha.

Salome.

The ruler of the Shadowmire, a name whispered like a curse among the purebloods.

I walked toward him, step by deliberate step.

I could hear the shocked gasps behind me with every move I made.

"Your Highness, you can't..." a noble whispered, trying to stop me.

"Quiet," I commanded without turning back.

Salome looked up.

His eyes weren't the pure gold or forest green of a wolf.

They were a deep, inky black—human, yet burning with the feral intensity of a wolf in the dead of night.

"Are you sure?" His voice was low, carrying a dangerous complexity.

Not just the dominant aura of a wolf, but something far deadlier.

"I choose you."

The words had barely left my lips when the hall erupted into chaos.

"This is blasphemy against the purebloods!"

"The Silvermoon Pack has gone mad!"

"How could she choose a half-breed!"

Salome rose to his feet. He was taller than I'd imagined.

He walked toward me, ignoring the storm of curses and jeers.

"Then, Princess," he said, "I must return to my lands to prepare."

My father's face was ashen. Lukas shook his head with a smirk. Lyla covered her mouth, feigning shock.

"This will be our pack's greatest shame," my father's voice trembled.

"No, Father," I said, my gaze steady. "This is our new beginning."

Salome turned to leave. Everyone thought the farce was over.

Then he stopped and looked back at me.

He pulled a black iron armlet from his tunic.

It wasn't the traditional silver of werewolves, but black iron forged by human hands, carved with ancient wolf runes.

He walked back to me and clasped it around my arm.

The cold metal against my skin pulsed with a strange power.

"This is the Mark of the Shadowmire's Luna. It was my mother's—my human mother's," his voice was a low whisper, meant only for me. "Now, it's yours."