REBORN BEFORE THE MOONLESS NIGHT

The cold bit into my skin like teeth.

I slammed my fists against the iron gates of Blackthorn Pack until my knuckles split open. Blood smeared across the frozen metal. Behind me, the forest screamed. Feral wolves tore through the darkness, their howls closer with every breath.

“Garrick!” My voice cracked. “Open the gates!”

He stood on the other side, tall and unmoved, the Alpha who once swore I was his everything. Isolde stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm like she already belonged there. Torchlight painted their faces in gold while I shivered in the dark.

“Please,” I begged, pressing my forehead against the bars. “I healed your warriors. I bled for this pack. I am your Luna—”

“You were useful,” Garrick said. His voice carried no warmth. “That time has passed.”

Isolde’s soft laugh cut through the wind. “Look at her. Still begging. How pathetic.”

I stared at my husband. The man I had given everything to. The man who once held me like I was precious. Now his amber eyes looked at me the way one looks at a broken tool.

“You planned this,” I whispered.

He did not deny it.

The first feral wolf burst from the treeline. Then another. Their eyes glowed with mindless hunger. My body was already failing. I had poured every drop of my healing gift into the wounded earlier that night until nothing remained. My wolf whimpered inside me, too weak to surface.

Garrick raised his hand.

“Keep the gates closed.”

The last thing I saw was Isolde smiling as the first set of jaws closed around my shoulder.

I woke gasping, hands clutching my chest.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat up so fast the room spun. Soft blankets. Warm air. The faint scent of lavender from the sachets my mother used to place under the pillows. Morning light filtered through familiar curtains.

I was in my old bedroom.

The bedroom I had left years ago on the day of my Mate Ceremony.

My hands flew to my shoulder. No blood. No torn flesh. The deep scars that should have marked me were gone. I scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the mirror. Grey eyes stared back at me—younger, clearer, unmarked by the exhaustion of years spent as Luna.

This was impossible.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Anya,” a servant called. “The Alpha is waiting. The ceremony begins soon.”

I froze.

The Mate Ceremony.

Today.

I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth as the memories crashed into me all over again. The closed gates. Isolde’s smile. The cold. The teeth. Dying while the man I loved watched.

I was not dead.

I had come back.

And today was the day I was supposed to accept Garrick Thorne as my mate.

The ceremonial grounds of Blackthorn Pack were draped in silver banners and white flowers. Pack members filled the space, their voices a low murmur of excitement. At the center stood the stone platform where every Luna of Blackthorn had accepted her bond for generations.

Garrick waited for me there.

He looked exactly as he had in my first life on this day—strong, confident, already carrying himself like a man who owned the world. When his eyes found me, a slow smile curved his mouth. He believed I was still the same soft, devoted girl who would walk into his arms without question.

I walked toward him with steady steps.

The pack grew quiet as I stepped onto the platform. Garrick extended his hand, palm up, waiting for me to place mine in his. The traditional words of acceptance hovered in the air between us.

I looked at that hand and saw the same hand that had ordered the gates to remain closed.

“Anya Vale,” he said, voice rich with certainty. “Do you accept me as your mate and Alpha?”

Silence stretched.

I lifted my chin.

“No.”

The single word dropped into the crowd like a stone into still water.

Garrick’s smile froze. “What did you say?”

“I reject the bond.” My voice carried clearly across the grounds. “I will not be your mate.”

Gasps rippled through the gathering. Somewhere to the side, I heard Isolde’s sharp intake of breath. Garrick’s amber eyes darkened, the first crack of true anger showing beneath the polished Alpha mask.

“You do not understand what you are doing,” he said, low and dangerous. “Rejecting me is not a game, Anya.”

“I understand perfectly.”

He took a step closer. The air around him thickened with Alpha pressure, the instinctive demand for submission that once would have made my knees weaken. This time, I did not look away.

“You belong to this pack,” he said. “You belong to me.”

I met his stare without flinching. “I belonged to you once. Never again.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Garrick’s jaw tightened. For a moment, something almost like disbelief crossed his face. Then it hardened into something colder.

“You cannot simply walk away from this,” he said. “You do not get to reject me in front of my pack and leave as if nothing has happened.”

I held his gaze and let the memory of freezing iron gates settle behind my eyes.

“You have no idea,” I said quietly, “how much I have already walked away from.”

His expression shifted. The controlled Alpha vanished, replaced by something darker and far more dangerous. He raised his hand toward the nearest warriors.

“Guards.” His voice rang across the grounds. “Do not let her leave the ceremony grounds.”

Boots moved at once.

I stood still on the platform, heart steady, and watched the men who once called me Luna close ranks around me.