MY BRIDE.

NICHOLAS’ POV

I jolted awake, my chest heaving like I’d just run ten miles through the woods. My sheets clung to me, damp with the sweat that rolled down my face, back and even my chest. The room was pitch-black except for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, but that didn’t stop the terror clawing at me.

I’d dreamed. No. That wasn’t just a dream. It was too vivid, too cruel.

I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and forced myself to my feet, every movement heavy, like I was dragging a corpse behind me. My body felt drained, not rested, as if I’d spent the night in battle instead of in my king-sized bed.

Aching all over, I staggered to the bathroom, the tiles were cold against my bare feet. I leaned over the sink and splashed water onto my face, trying to cool the fever burning beneath my skin. But when I raised my gaze up to the mirror, my breath stopped.

My reflection looked like hell—eyes bloodshot, hair stuck damp against my forehead. But that wasn't the reason my blood ran cold in my veins. No it certainly wasn't.

Across my chest, a long slash carved through my skin. I staggered back, heart pounding.

Before my eyes, it slowly vanished, the torn flesh knitting back together until only faint traces remained. My heart thudded in my chest, erratic and wild.

For a second, I couldn’t move.

And I watched, horrified, as the scar disappeared altogether. Like it'd never been there at all.

What the hell?

I staggered back from the mirror, chest burning with phantom pain.

And then the dream, or what I had thought it was, unfolded again in my head. Every detail vivid, merciless.

Anastasia… Gods, Anastasia. The love of my cursed life. She’d died.

Her twin sister, Amelia, the woman I’d been shackled to in marriage—cut our marriage bond without hesitation and had gone to Grey, my piece of shit half-brother. They had taken marriage vows in the shadow of Anastasia’s death, her body barely even cold in the ground.

I’d known about their affair, of course. I wasn't blind. But I’d been too much of a coward to break it to Anastasia. I couldn't bring myself to.

She suspected it, I knew she did, but hearing it from me would have crushed her. And so I said nothing.

And then she was gone.

Her death broke me. I drowned myself in liquor, in regret, in useless rage. Up until the day of her funeral. That day, I saw her body lying cold in her simply designed coffin, and I noticed the faintest discoloration around her throat.

Bloodpetal. The deadly flower that rots a wolf from the inside out.

Someone had poisoned her.

That had snapped me out of my haze. I started digging, clawing at the truth with Lucas at my side.

But war was brought to the wolf race soon after, it tore my pack to shreds, and finally—slayed me.

I remember bleeding out, right here in the fields of my pack’s territory.

And now…

Now I stood staring at my reflection in my bathroom mirror, whole and alive again.

I pressed a hand over the phantom wound on my chest, the one that should have ended me. I didn’t know how this was possible, didn’t know if it was a sick joke, a curse, or a miracle.

But deep down, I was certain of one thing: The Moon Goddess had given me a second chance.

PRESENT DAY

I swayed softly in my swivel chair, back turned away from my desk to face the large windows. Beyond the glass pane was a sprawling expanse of forest and greenery that served as a divide between my pack and my father's.

In one of my hands was a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. I took a sharp sip, welcoming the familiar burn in my throat that came after. It felt comforting, but my mind was in a place far from comfort.

Why me?

The Moon Goddess. She was the only explanation that made sense. She had turned back the hands of time and shoved me back into this cursed life for one reason. And I already have an idea on what it was.

A knock interrupted my brooding and Lucas, my Beta, walked in, bowing his head just slightly.

“Alpha, the results for the brides are in.” He said in a cheerful voice.

I swiveled back in position, a long tired sigh, leaving me. I didn’t need his damned results. I already knew how this played out. I’d lived it once before.

“Don’t bother,” I muttered, swirling the drink in my glass. “I know who it is.”

He tilted his head, looking weirdly excited like there was anything to be excited about. “You do?”

“Yes,” I said, the word tasting bitter.

Amelia Keaton.

That brat—was the one I was destined to marry. I had dreaded today all week and now it was here.

Anastasia will be given to Grey, while I will be shackled to the sister.

Lucas’s cheerful tone pulled me out of my thoughts. “Should I prepare a welcome party for your bride?”

My lip curled. “No.”

In my last life, I’d tried to welcome her. Prepared a feast, decorated the halls, gave her the best of my pack’s hospitality. And how did she receive it? With scorn. With arrogance. She’d sneered at my people, belittled their kindness, and made a mockery of our union.

Never again.

Lucas blinked. “No?”

“Don’t waste resources on her,” I said flatly, setting the glass down. “No feast, no party. Also have her room prepared far from Arissa’s. And for the Goddess’ sake, keep her away from her.”

The last thing I needed was for her negativity to rub off on my sister. It wasn't her fault that her brother had the worst luck.

Lucas’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Far… away. Are you sure?”

I turned to glare at him.

He hesitated, then finally said it. “I just thought you'd be happy. Since you know about the results.”

I looked at him like he'd been cloned by aliens. “What about Amelia Keaton would evoke happiness in me?” I asked in exasperation, picking up my glass again. I needed all the alcohol I could get to see me through the day.

And every other day for the rest of my life.

Lucas was still confused. “Amelia?” He glanced at the letter in his hand. “The bride on her way to you is Anastasia.”

The whiskey glass froze halfway to my lips. I put it down so fast, the amber liquid sloshed over the rim. “What?” I asked, staring at him, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“Anastasia.” He repeated. “The other sister.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. For a moment, all I could do was stare, trying to reconcile what I’d just heard. In my past life, Amelia had been mine, Anastasia had been Grey’s. That was how it was.

What changed?

But confusion didn’t matter. Not right now. I clenched my jaw, heart pounding with something I hadn’t felt in years—hope. A fierce, unshakable hope.

“Cancel what I said before,” I ordered, voice with emotion. “Keep the party. No—make it grander. Also tell the servants to prepare the best room in the manor, the one overlooking the gardens.”

Lucas’s lips twitched, finally getting the reaction he expected. He hardly ever saw me light up like this.

Except…

“As you wish, Alpha.” He bowed and turned to leave.

“When will she be here?” I asked, unable to hide the impatience creeping into my tone.

He stopped and turned around. “By evening.”

Evening. Too far.

I downed the last of my drink, savouring the heat of it. Outwardly, I kept my composure. But inside? Inside, I was burning with raw excitement.

This was my chance. My second chance. And this time, I will not fail.

I swore it to the Moon Goddess. I will honour her grace she's given me and protect Anastasia for as long as I live this new life.

I’d be damned before I let harm come to her. I'd do anything to ensure she lives.

Even if it meant ripping out my brother’s throat, or anyone else's, with my bare teeth.