Chapter 2

Roxie's POV

Reyna watched my face, waiting for the flinch. I didn't give her one.

"Interesting," I said. "Since when does someone of your status get to talk about the royal family like that?"

That wiped the smirk off her face. For half a second, something flickered in her eyes — not anger. Fear. Like she'd remembered something from her previous life that she'd rather keep buried.

It vanished as quickly as it came.

"You'll find out soon enough," she said, recovering her composure. "That prince isn't just cursed — he's violent. Dangerous. His wolf goes feral and he can't control it." She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I give it a month before you're begging to come home."

I doubted that.

Prince Kaelan Valemont had been one of the most decorated warriors of his generation. He'd led border defense campaigns, put down rogue uprisings.

In my previous life, he'd also saved my life once.

Three months into my marriage to Vincent, a pack of rogues ambushed us on a highway outside Silverbrook. Vincent froze, standing there like a statue while those rogues circled me with their teeth bared. The prince, who happened to be passing through with his unit, didn't hesitate. He took down four rogues in under a minute, checked whether we were hurt, and left before I could properly thank him.

I remembered his eyes that day. Calm. Focused. No cruelty in them — just efficiency. That wasn't the behavior of a monster. The curse was destroying him, yes. But the man underneath it was someone worth saving.

Reyna's fear probably came from his feral episodes, not from who he actually was. Whatever she'd experienced in their brief marriage, there was more to the story than she was telling.

"Don't worry about me," I said. "Worry about yourself."

Reyna tossed her hair. "Just don't come crawling back to Vincent when your prince loses it and tears you apart. He's MY mate now. I don't need his pathetic ex hanging around, crying and begging for scraps."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I said. "And speaking of pathetic — you want to talk about who's shameless? Maybe ask your mother how she ended up pregnant with my father's baby while my parents were still married. That's a level of desperate I could never compete with."

Reyna's jaw dropped.

In our previous life, I'd never said that. I'd swallowed every insult, absorbed every slight, kept my head down and my mouth shut like a well-trained dog. The old Roxie would have walked away and cried into her pillow.

But I wasn't the old Roxie anymore.

"How — how dare you!" Reyna's voice pitched up to a shriek. "Who are you to talk about my mother? Your mother was the one who died! That's nobody's fault but hers — too weak, too pathetic, couldn't even survive a common illness—"

Something snapped.

My wolf surged forward before I could stop it. My hand shot out — claws extended — and raked across Reyna's cheek. Three thin red lines opened up on her skin, beading with blood.

She shrieked, slapping a hand to her face. "You — you scratched me! My face!"

She lunged at me, claws out. My wolf let out a snarl — deep, guttural, the kind that vibrated in the chest and triggered submission instinct in weaker wolves. Reyna froze mid-step. Her eyes went wide. Then she stumbled backward, all the bravado draining out of her.

I glared at her. "I've put up with you for long enough."

"MOTHER!" She spun and bolted toward the study. "DADDY! Roxie attacked me! Look what she did to my FACE!"

I stayed where I was. I already knew how this would play out.

Katherine appeared first, heels clicking on the hardwood, her face arranged into that expression of manufactured horror she'd perfected over the years. My father followed — jaw set, shoulders tense, already looking at me the way he always did when Reyna cried. Like I was the problem. Like I had always been the problem.

"Look at this!" Katherine pulled Reyna's hand away from her cheek. The scratches were shallow, barely bleeding — they'd heal within the hour. Katherine reacted like I'd mauled her daughter. "Noah, this is completely unacceptable. Your daughter is out of control."

"She attacked me for no reason!" Reyna wailed, pressing into Katherine's side. The tears were perfect — just enough to look fragile without smudging her makeup. She'd always been good at that.

My father turned to me. No "what happened?" No interest in my side of the story. "Your sister gave up being the prince's bride for you, and this is how you treat her?"

"She needs to be disciplined," Katherine said. "Properly. Get the belt."

My father reached for his belt buckle.

Two lifetimes of this. Two lifetimes of watching him choose them over me without hesitation, without curiosity, without a shred of guilt. In my first life, I'd held onto the hope that somewhere underneath the indifference, he still loved me. That if I was quiet enough, obedient enough, he'd eventually see me for who I was.

He never did. He never would.

I didn't back down. I straightened my back, looked at him and my stepmother, and said coldly, "It seems you two never taught that fool Reyna to take responsibility for her own actions."

"How dare you talk back to me!" He pulled the belt free and raised his arm.

"Alpha Bluemoon."

A deep voice from the front entrance. Everyone froze.

A tall man in a dark suit stood in the doorway — broad shoulders, military posture, the royal crest pinned to his lapel. Behind him, through the open front door, a black SUV idled in the driveway with tinted windows and palace plates.

"I'm Beta Asher," the man said. "I'm here by royal command to escort the future Luna to the palace."

Katherine's hand dropped from Reyna's cheek. My father lowered the belt. The room went dead quiet.

I didn't wait for anyone to recover. I turned, walked to my room, and packed the only things that mattered: my mother's jade pendant, the leather-bound Healer manual she'd left me, and the notebook of treatment formulas I'd been compiling since I was sixteen. Everything fit in one bag.

When I came back downstairs, Reyna was standing by the front door with her arms crossed, the scratches already crusting over.

"Enjoy the palace," she said, her voice thin and brittle. "While it lasts. When that cursed wolf tears you apart, don't say I didn't warn you."

I looked at her. Really looked.

In my past life, everything Vincent achieved had been built on my sacrifice. Reyna didn't understand any of that. She thought she could swap herself in at the beginning and ride the same wave to the top.

She couldn't. Without me, Vincent would plateau. And Reyna — spoiled, short-sighted, incapable of building anything on her own — would drag him down faster than he could climb.

I could already see how it would end. The two of them, clawing at each other in a failing pack, wondering where it all went wrong.

I'd watch from a distance.

"You should worry about yours." I said.

I turned and walked toward the front door. Beta Asher was waiting by the SUV — and the moment he saw me, he straightened and dipped his head in a formal bow.

"Miss Bluemoon." His voice was respectful, measured. "The Crown Prince asked me to ensure your comfort during the ride. Please let me know if you need anything."

He opened the rear door for me. I caught Reyna's expression from the corner of my eye — she'd expected me to stumble out red-eyed and miserable, the way I always had in our previous life. Instead I smiled at Beta Asher, thanked him, and slid into the back seat.

The leather was cool and clean. The door closed with a soft, solid click — the kind of sound expensive things made.

As the driver pulled out of the driveway, I didn't look back.

This life was mine now. No more begging for scraps of affection from people who had none to give.

Through the tinted window, the packhouse shrank and disappeared behind a row of trees.