REBIRTH OF THE RIVAL ALPHA’S LUNA: war of vengeance

ISABELLE'S POV

My head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it and bashed my skull in. The pain was unbearable, but I couldn't scream. All I could do was hold my head in my hands and let out groans of agony. It felt like hell—actual burning hell.

"Your Grace, you're awake."

Who was speaking to me? What was that voice?

My eyes fluttered open, blinking the blurred vision away. A petite girl with short brown hair and freckles stood at the head of my bed, smiling at me. She looked…relieved.

"Millie? Millie, how are you…" I drawled, sitting up straight. I winced, massaging my temples slowly. I couldn't remember much—just the feeling of gasping for air, the sound of the ocean, and…

Wait a second. Wasn't I supposed to be dead?

My eyes darted across the room in alarm. It was a familiar shade of red with spots of gold. I was in my room. How the hell was I in my room?

My face turned toward Millie, whose relief had been replaced by confusion.

"What am I doing here? How did I get here?"

Millie blinked at me, perhaps thinking I had lost my mind. For all she knew, she had been tending to her sick Luna, who was now insane.

"You're in the palace, ma'am. You've been asleep for quite some time. The Alpha gave me orders not to wake you."

The Alpha…

"Michael. Michael told you not to wake me," I repeated, and she nodded quickly.

Michael…Michael was my fiancé. But Michael was with Lyra. I saw them together. They wanted to kill me. They did kill me. Michael killed me. I know he did. I felt it. There was blood. Why wasn't I dead?

I scrambled out of bed and rushed toward the mirror that hung dutifully on the wall. There I was in my reflection—rosy cheeks, brown eyes, pale skin and all. All of me was here. But how?

"How am I alive?" I whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

"I'm alive…" I repeated, dragging a shaky finger down the sides of my neck. There wasn't as much as a mark. No indication that he had held me there, that he had strangled…and killed me. Then I noticed something strange.

There was no ring on my finger.

I searched the bed, lifted the covers and pillows, then crouched on all fours and checked underneath the bed. Nothing. I couldn't find it.

Rising to my feet, I turned back toward a frightened Millie. "Where is it? Where's my ring?" I demanded, my brows furrowed as my claws itched to unsheathe themselves.

Millie's eyes widened in shock and fear. "What ring? Your Grace, you don't have a ring," she stammered, fiddling with her fingers as heat rushed to her neck and cheeks.

But before I could respond, I felt an aura that stopped me dead in my tracks. That familiar scent wafted into my nose, making me shiver.

"I heard shouting. Isabelle," a voice called from the threshold. Every hair on my body stood at attention, and a chill went down my spine the moment we locked eyes.

"My love, is everything alright?" he asked, making his way toward me. He glanced at Millie, his presence commanding. The devilish spark he'd had in his eyes when he'd strangled me was gone now. All that was left was glowing amber.

"Her Grace has been acting peculiar since she awoke, Your Highness," Millie explained, bowing her head in submission. Michael paid her no attention and gave her a wave of dismissal. I watched Millie scurry out of the room like a discovered rat.

Now I was alone with him. Again. And a part of me expected to be thrown against the wall or stabbed. Instead, he turned toward me and put a hand on my forehead. I swallowed hard, and my throat bobbed. It was as if my body expected him to curl those fingers around my neck again.

"Are you okay, my love?" he asked softly. Raw concern swam in his eyes, and I gulped.

"I…I can't find my ring," I hesitated, pulling away from his touch.

Michael's lips curled into a slight frown, then it was replaced by a short chuckle. "Ring? How did you find out about the proposal?"

I blinked. Once. Twice. "What?"

He shook his head, then planted a soft kiss on the top of my head. "No matter. Just do well to act surprised tonight when I finally make you my wife. The entire pack will be watching," he crooned, cupping my face in his large hands. The look in his eyes screamed love and affection. It was so believable I found myself wanting to lean into his touch. I wanted to feel this man love me. Even if it wasn't real.

How could someone lie so convincingly? He really was a snake. I felt like a fool. He was a shapeshifting wolf. Everything about him was a lie…even the way he was looking at me.

"I have wanted to make you mine for so long, darling. And now the whole pack will know," he said triumphantly, his lips crashing into mine for a moment too long. My breathing quickened as he pulled away, and my heart picked up speed—not from affection, but something else.

"Today is our engagement?" I reiterated once he'd pulled away.

Michael paused for a while, then let out a short laugh. "Gods, Isabelle. You really are unwell. It's making you confused. Understandable, since you were asleep for a whole day," he shared, tucking a strand of hair out of my face. Then his eyes fell. "I was truly worried about you."

Asleep for a whole day? "What day is it?" I questioned, arching a brow as my mind raced.

"It's the sixth day of the week, my love. You've been asleep since yesterday," came his reply.

The sixth day? But I'd died on the seventh.

Had I…gone back in time?

No, that wasn't it. I wasn't sure how, and I wasn't sure why, but there was only one logical explanation: rebirth. It wasn't impossible. Was it?

Michael looked down at me with mock pity in his eyes, a gesture that would have made my heart flip. But now, my heart felt…cold.

But not cold enough to ignore a question that had been biting at the back of my mind. My eyes looked up at him. My Alpha. My lover.

My murderer.

You will learn respect. And death will be the perfect lesson.

"Michael," I called, brows knitted together as I grabbed onto his arm. I stared into his eyes, scouting for a betraying emotion. "Do you love me?"

"Would I be marrying you if I wasn't?" he questioned, raising a brow flirtatiously and pulling me close by the waist. I fought the urge to scratch him with my claws or push him away. I didn't want to give away the only advantage I had.

He still thought I was in love with him. He still thought I wasn't aware of the plans he had for me. And if I wanted to be alive by tomorrow, I had to play my cards right. I couldn't do anything to set off his temper.

For one more day, I'd be the meek, naive little Isabelle he had wrapped around his finger.

So I let him continue lying to me. He seemed to enjoy it.

"You're my being, Isabelle. My everything. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side," he smiled, holding my hand in his before planting his lips on it lovingly. Tears pricked my eyes like sharp little needles, but I fought to contain them.

I cleared my throat, observing him thoughtfully. "Where's my sister?"

"Who? Lyra?" he asked, looking perplexed. "How would I know? She's not my sister."

It was scary how straight his face could be when he lied. This man could tell you the sky was purple without batting an eyelash. And now, I would make sure he'd get a taste of his own medicine.

Somehow, life had given me another chance. A do-over. And I wasn't going to waste it by making the same mistakes as last time. No matter what this man did or said to me, I wasn't going to fall for it. He hated me. He wanted me gone as soon as I was done being of use to him. He threw me from that balcony like I was a fucking animal. He slept with my sister. And they would both suffer at my hands whether the gods liked it or not.

My blood ran cold. Today would be the day of the proposal. Tomorrow was the day I died. I stared at Michael, whose hands still held me in a warm embrace. Somehow, the gods had given me one more day—a chance to expose him to his followers for who he really was.

Twenty-four hours to get back what was stolen from me. I knew if I didn't stop him from killing me, I would be gone by tomorrow.

And something told me that I wouldn't get a third chance this time around.