Chapter 2.

Pain!

That was the first thing I felt. A deep, aching pain that settled in my bones like they had been shattered all over and put back together in the wrong joints. My head was pounding, and my limbs weren't left out either because I felt heavy as if I had been submerged underwater.

I tried to move, but my body wasn’t listening. 

‘Was I dead?’

That was the only thought that quickly flashed through my mind in a split of a second.

I remembered running through the cold wind as they sliced against my skin. I could remember like it happened just a few seconds ago, the sound of paws pounding the earth behind me and the sharp, tearing pain of claws sinking into the flesh at the corner of my neck. 

I should be dead. But then, why did I feel like I was waking up?

Now, I traced my hands up slowly to the corner of my neck, to check the magnitude of the wound but I felt nothing—not even a single scratch or whatsoever. 

A soft murmur drifted through the haze, words just out of reach. My fingers twitched on my neck. The air smelled different—rich with pine and something heady, something unfamiliar from what I have always known. Slowly, my senses sharpened. I was lying on something soft. 

A Sheets? 

A bed?

I questioned myself rhetorically.

Then I began to hear voices, not far fetched from the spot I laid. 

“She’s been out for days. How is this possible?”

“We don’t know. It shouldn’t be.”

A beat of silence ensued and then a third voice followed, the voice was low and commanding at the same time. “I’ll handle it.”

Something in that voice sent a shiver down my spine. Let's say, a warning—or possibly, a threat.

I had no choice than to hysterically force my eyes open, blinking against the golden light filtering through sheer curtains. The room around me was elegant. It was covered in deep reds and dark wood, with the scent of burning cedar curling in the air.

Where the hell was I? 

I shifted, trying to push myself up, and that was when I saw them. Three men standing near the doorway, their gazes locked onto me. One of them, tall with silver-streaked hair and piercing amber eyes, stiffened the moment our eyes met. 

Something flickered across his face, I wasn't sure if it was shock or maybe anger.

No. It was something else, it was suspicion. 

I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. “Where…” My voice cracked and was weak at the same time. “Where am I?” I finally mustered a little courage to speak though I was still scared out of my wits.

None of them answered at first. Then the silver-haired man stepped forward, I couldn't read the expression on his face as he made an attempt to speak. 

“You’re home,” he said.

His voice. I knew that voice. The one from before. The one that had sent chills through me even in the darkness.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing thrice to what it used to. Home? No. If I wasn't certain of anything, I was so sure that this wasn’t my home.

I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the way my body had protested. That was when I saw that my hands were much smaller and more delicate than I remembered. My skin was smooth, paler than mine had ever been. I lifted one to my face, my fingers trembling as they brushed against unfamiliar features. 

Something was very, very wrong. A mirror. I needed a mirror, I wanted to see what was happening to me. 

I turned sharply, my breath quickening as I scanned the room. There—across from the bed, a gilded mirror stood against the wall. I swung my legs over the edge, nearly collapsing as a dizzy wave overtook me but strong hands gripped my arms before I could fall.

I gasped at the touch.

The silver-haired man was holding me up, his grip was really firm but he held me with caution. Up close, I could see the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark brows pulled together as if he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t like.

“Easy,” he said, but there was no warmth in his voice.

I jerked away from him, stumbling toward the mirror. The second I saw my reflection in the mirror, my stomach dropped.

The woman staring back at me wasn’t me.

Dark waves of hair cascaded over delicate shoulders, deep green eyes wide with horror. Her lips, full and slightly parted, trembled as she reached toward the glass.

"No, this can't be!" I muttered. 

The woman staring back at me in the mirror was...she was....

"Raven Blackwell." I said rather too loudly. 

The name hit me like a sledgehammer. 

I had seen her in photos during my investigation. She had been a ghostly figure in the stories surrounding Kieran Wolfe—the mysterious mate of the feared Alpha, dead only days ago in a rogue attack.

And yet, here she was. Here I was, in her body. But how was this possible, this ought to be a dream of some sort. 

My breathing suddenly turned shallow and, my pulse thundering in my ears. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be, I had been human and I remembered being murdered, I was supposed to be dead and not here. 

And now… now I was her?!

“Raven?” The man’s voice cut through my panic. 

I turned slowly, dread curling in my stomach. He was watching me closely, his jaw tight.

I knew who he was now, it was Kieran Wolfe standing in front of me. 

My pulse raced. The Alpha of the pack. The man who had ruled over this secret world with an iron fist. And now, the man who was supposed to be my mate. Hell No! But I could only wish there was a way out of this.

Except I wasn’t Raven. 

I didn’t know how or why this was happening, but one thing was clear—I was trapped in a life that wasn’t mine.

And if anyone realized the truth…

I wouldn’t survive it.