REBORN AND NICHOLAS

ANASTASIA’S POV

If there was one thing I loathed the most about my pack’s traditions, it was the one happening right now in my father's courtyard.

A vintage oak box was placed before me and my twin sister, Amelia. One heavy with sacred tradition, one we were required to reach into and pick from.

On both sides of the courtyard, advisers, nobles, high ranked warriors, and elders leaned forward, their eyes sharp, their whispers hushed. Waiting. Anticipating. Eyes shining as they could barely hold in their eagerness.

I stared at the box in quiet disgust. It wasn't just any box, it was one which decided the fate of every she-wolf born into nobility. The curse of my bloodline, the chain that tied us to whatever future the Moon Goddess—or men pretending to speak for her—decided.

Beside me, Amelia crackled with impatience, her excitement visible for all to see. This was the moment she'd been waiting for all her life. I’d once been like her and it made my stomach twist.

I knew what came next. I’d seen it all before. No one knew, but I’d lived this day before. In a former life.

And I’d been blind in that life. Naive. I had underestimated the length my twin sister's greed and envy would go and it had led me to an early grave.

Amelia… who smiled like a saint and bit like a poisonous snake.

She was now dipping her hand into the wooden box, her movement slow and coy. She shuffled the slips of paper inside as if it would magically raise her chances, as if it would somehow give her the choice she wanted, coveted.

There were only two names in the box and no matter how long she shuffled the papers about, it won't magically increase the odds.

The audience on the other hand, held their breaths. As if the names folded inside that damned box were sacred prophecies.

The whole dramatics of this was the way of our kind. A ritual they said. A tradition they termed it.

But no matter how you dress it up however you want, it was nothing more than shackles. When a she-wolf reached the so-called marriageable age, she was made to pick her future husband from a box. One folded name. One fate. One lifelong sentence.

The only thing that could save her is if the Moon Goddess has already shown her a mate. But even that wasn't much; your mate could be anyone, one who could be a much worse option than the name in the box.

Amelia, after painstakingly taking her sweet time, finally pulled out a slip of white paper. She held it to her chest for a dramatic pause, milked it then opened the damn paper.

Her squeal of excitement was instant.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I didn't need to see the paper to know whose name she picked.

Bits of this exact moment in my past life start to flash by. Amelia had picked Grey Bloodhound, heir to the Bloodhound pack.

My fated mate.

I had immediately protested, reminding everyone that Grey and I were fated to each other by the Moon Goddess, and it'd be wrong—twisted—for my own twin sister to claim.

I’d begged our father—The Alpha—to acknowledge the bond and revoke her pick. And he finally did. Begrudgingly.

In that life, I'd thought I was standing up for myself and I'd been so proud and so happy and just… stupid.

What a fool I'd been. All I'd done was unwittingly sign myself up for a tragic fate.

Well, that was past life Anastasia, new life Anastasia knew better now. I was not going to make the same mistake twice.

Amelia turned to me, batting her lashes in that sickly sweet way of hers. “Don’t be angry, sister,” she said, and it was all so familiar I nearly flinched. “Grey and I… we love each other. Every night he didn’t answer you? He was with me. But it isn’t my fault.”

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to roll my eyes until they fell out of my skull. She didn’t need to confess—I already knew. She had told me the exact same words while I was on my deathbed. With Grey standing by her side.

I gave her a smile so thin it could slice and said, “It’s okay. You can have him.”

Gasps and whispers of shock broke out across the courtyard, everyone finding my apathetic reaction unexpected. They had all expected me to refuse, cry and beg like I did for every other thing in my life.

Amelia’s eyes were wide, confusion spreading across her face. She hadn’t expected me to yield so easily.

But I meant it. I wanted them together. PRAYED for it to happen.

Trash belonged with trash.

And more importantly, maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t see the need to destroy me again now that I released Grey to her this early.

I studied her a little longer, hating how innocent she looked. In my last moments of my last life, I’d seen her true face—smiling like a maniac as death swallowed me whole. My chest tightened, the need to get away from here rising sharp and desperate.

But my family didn’t see my discomfort. They saw offence where there was none.

“Don’t be rude, Anastasia,” my mother snapped from where she was seated as Luna.

“Stop being bitter,” my eldest brother sneered from the side.

I looked over to the side to where he sat with other warriors just in time to catch my younger brother, who sat next to him, mouthing the word ‘bitch’ to me.

My mother took it further. “You know better than to blame your sister, Anastasia. Stop acting sassy, you're very much aware that Grey wanted your sister and not you. He’s made it clear over and over. ” She reminded me, as though that truth could strip me down further.

Their words hurt, it always did. But I was used to it. I had lived many years being the family’s blemish, their disappointment.

It has been like that the day we turned twelve and our wolves first showed. Amelia had shifted into a pristine white and me, a hulking brown anomaly that has never been seen before in our family.

Everyone had looked at me like I was less since then. Our parents’ love for me had curdled that day and never returned.

I steadied my shaky breath. “I’m not jealous,” I said finally. “I don’t care if Amelia picked Grey. So stop crying your fake tears, sister. You got what you wanted. What else do you need from me?”

My father moved so fast I barely saw him. One second he was in his seat of authority, the next, he'd stormed up to me, his hand cracking across my cheek.

The sting spread hot through my skin, but the cold in his eyes hurt worse.

“I was worried for you,” he spat. “Not anymore. Do what you want. You don’t need to pick from the box. It’s already clear who you’ll marry—the bastard son of the Bloodhound pack.”

Bitter tears burned my eyes. I’d heard a thousand insults, suffered endless neglect, but the hostility from my father always broke me a little more. We'd been so close, I'd been so precious to him, yet, a simple thing like the reveal of my wolf’s colour had turned us into something worse than strangers.

I could never understand how his love could be so conditional. How any of them’s love could be so conditional.

Amelia, ever the actress, stepped in with her fake concern. “Father, please, don’t send Anastasia to that man,” she said, clutching her chest like she was on stage.

Everyone rushed to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Amelia.” My mother said.

“Anastasia brought this on herself.” My older brother chipped in.

“If she begs you, maybe we’ll find her a better match.” My father twisted the knife.

I stared at him, at all of them. The people who should’ve loved me. The people who’d left me to rot then and now.

Beg? Never.

I was done begging to be seen.

I lifted my chin, my tone flat as I said, “no need.”

The whispers started again, louder this time. Everyone once again taken aback by my defiance.

The looks on my parents’ faces was a sight to see.

“Don’t be foolish,” Amelia hissed at me, breaking character for a heartbeat. “Nicholas has a reputation, a terrible one. They say he's cruel. Ruthless. Power-hungry. Even his own father, the Alpha King, wants nothing to do with him. Our pack is too small to protect you if he hurts you. You’ll have nothing, only poverty, disgrace, misery.”

The act of concern… It was almost perfect. Almost. Nothing could hide that malevolent light in her eyes. One she always had whenever I'm being bullied or punished.

She didn't care if I met a worse fate with Nicholas Bloodhound, her words were only meant to scare me. Whether I agreed or not, I was going to end up with him anyway. She just hated that I was not on my knees begging.

The smile I flashed her didn't reach my eyes. “Don’t worry about me, dear sister. Thanks for your concern,” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “But I don’t need your help.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” my mother said but I ignored her.

Cheeky still stinging, I straightened my spine, looking each of them dead in the eye, daring them to flinch away as I declared with firm resolve.

“I agree to marry Nicholas Bloodhound.”