Chapter 1

Roxie's POV

"Reyna, I'm asking you one last time. You're really going to turn down the Crown Prince to marry that small-pack Alpha?"

I heard my stepmother talking loudly with my stepsister. Anyone who heard the news would think Reyna had gone mad. But I knew she hadn't.

Because I'd been reborn to a time before I ever got married — and so had Reyna.

In our previous lives, I married Vincent, the small-pack Alpha, while Reyna married the Crown Prince. The prince she married was cursed with black magic and died within one year. My husband, by contrast—with my support—rose to become the new Alpha King.

"Mother, I know what I'm doing." Reyna's voice was sugar-coated patience, the tone she used when she'd already decided. "The prince is cursed. His wolf goes feral. It's only getting worse. He won't last the year."

"How do you know that?" Katherine's voice sharpened.

A pause. Then Reyna, her tone slightly off. "I had a dream about it. A vivid one — I think it was a prophecy. I saw him lose control completely. He died, Mother. And the whole royal family fell apart after."

"I'm not gambling my life on a dying man. Roxie's welcome to him. Besides, Vincent wants me—not her."

I sneered inwardly. Dream. Prophecy. What a convenient excuse.

In my last life, I poured every ounce of my ability into building Vincent's pack: expanded his territory, brokered regional alliances, trained a medical team from nothing. His wolves went from mid-tier nobodies to being taken seriously at every summit.

He repaid me by sleeping with every she-wolf who flattered him.

And when he became Alpha King — standing in the position my work had built — he stopped pretending.

That night, he argued with me and pushed me—pregnant—down the stairs. I was hemorrhaging, moaning in agony, and he didn't send anyone to save me.

In my final breath, I begged the Moon Goddess for one thing: let me do it again.

She answered.

So here I was. Twenty-three years old, reborn. Same house. Same people. Completely different me.

I'd known Reyna was also reborn within the first week. In our previous life, she wouldn't have looked at Vincent Greywood twice — called him "that nobody" to his face at a banquet once. But in this life, she'd chased him with a hunger that only made sense if she already knew what he would become.

And in our previous life, Reyna's husband, Prince Kaelan Valemont, died young from the curse. After that, everything collapsed. The royal family tore itself apart. And Reyna — stripped of her title, her home, her status — ended up a rogue.

And yet I was the one who became Luna Queen. She'd been eaten alive with jealousy.

After her rebirth, she threw a fit and shoved the royal betrothal onto me. Father and my stepmother didn't understand it, but their blind doting on her won out, and in the end they gave in.

Now she thought she'd outsmarted fate. Trade the dying prince for the future King. Let stupid, useless Roxie marry the curse and the collapse while she took everything I'd built.

What Reyna didn't understand was simple: Vincent's rise had been my doing. Every alliance, every Healer breakthrough, every political connection that tipped in his favor — mine. Without me, his pack would plateau, and no amount of ambition would carry him to the top.

She didn’t know about my mother’s bloodline either—a rare Healer gift. I was gambling that it might be enough to break the curse on Prince Kaelan.

Reyna thought she was handing me a death sentence. I intended to make it my second life.

For days, I'd been studying the medical texts my mother left behind and everything I could find on curses. I didn't know how bad the prince's condition truly was, but I would use everything I'd learned across two lifetimes to try to heal him.

That day, I came back from picking herbs. Reyna deliberately bumped into me in the hallway, then looked me up and down with a smug, satisfied smile—the kind that meant she was about to enjoy herself at my expense.

"Oh, Roxie." She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers. The diamond ring caught the hallway light, throwing little sparks across the wall. It was enormous. "Look what Vincent gave me. Gorgeous, right? He said he wanted the whole world to know I'm his."

She tilted her chin and tugged down the collar of her cashmere sweater. A fresh mating mark sat on the side of her neck, swollen and red. Barely a day old.

"He couldn't even wait," she said, her voice dropping to a purr. "Marked me the second I said yes. Said I was everything he ever wanted." She pressed her lips together, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. "That I'm so much better than — well. You know."

I looked at the mark. Looked at the ring.

In my past life, that mark had been on my neck. That ring had been on my finger. And behind all the pretty gestures, Vincent Greywood had been a selfish man who was useless in bed and needed someone else to do every bit of the real work for him.

"Cute ring," I said. "Hope he didn't empty his savings on it. That pack of his barely breaks even, and wedding expenses add up fast. You'll be clipping coupons by month three."

Reyna's smile cracked. "You're just jealous. Sour grapes — you can't stand that he chose me over you."

"Jealous of what?" I tilted my head. "A five-second man running the smallest pack in the region? Enjoy the honeymoon. It's the best part."

Her face went dark red. She jabbed a finger at me.

"You have no idea what you're talking about! Vincent is going to be —"

She stopped. Her mouth snapped shut.

King. She'd almost said King.

So she really did have the full picture. She'd mapped Vincent's entire trajectory — the rise, the crown, all of it. And she believed that by swapping herself in at the start, she could ride that wave to the top.

Stupid girl. She didn't understand that the wave had been me.

Reyna recovered quickly, smoothing her face into something cold and pitying. She looked me up and down.

"Anyway." Her voice went sharp. "It's still better than marrying your crazy, dying wolf prince. I hear his episodes are getting worse — nearly killed three guards at the palace last week."

She leaned in close enough that I could smell her perfume. "Maybe he'll rip your throat out on the wedding night. Wouldn't that be romantic?"