Reborn as the Alpha’s regret

Calla’s POV

"Calla! Get your ass over here and bring those damn refreshments for the Elders! Quit standing around like an idiot and move that sorry ass!"

Marla’s voice blasted through the grand hall, cutting the silence like a sharp blade. She barked the order at me, treating me exactly like one of the servants running around under her feet.

Before I could respond, she was already calling out again. "Calla! Do you have wax in your ears, or are you just stupid? The Elders want refreshments, not excuses!”

I froze halfway down the hall, my hands automatically tightening around the tray. I forced myself to swallow the sudden sting of pain in my throat before slowly turning to confront her.

I was Luna of the Nightmoor Pack, in name if nothing else. And Marla? She was just a distant cousin of Alpha Lucien Thorne. But somehow, she strutted through this mansion like the owner, while I, the Alpha’s mate, was treated like a mere servant. She was also the only one who dared call me by name instead of my title. It was clear she didn't think I even deserved to be called Luna.

“I’m not a servant, Marla. I’m the Luna. I’ll bring the refreshments because I’m asked to, not because you order me like a slave.”

Her lips curled into the kind of smile that said she’d been waiting for me to snap.

"Luna is just a title. It doesn't make you a boss. The Elders and the pack don't respect you. Lucien definitely doesn't. Just accept that you don't have the power here. You must know your place before someone has to remind you violently."

My first instinct was to walk away, but something deep inside me kept me glued to the spot.

“This is my home too,” I said quietly. “I belong here as much as you do.”

“You think so? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Before I could respond, she deliberately brushed past me, knocking the tray from my hands. Cups shattered across the marble floor. Hot tea splashed up my sleeves. The Elders glanced over, whispering, but, as always, no one lifted a finger, let alone defend me.

“Are you deaf now?” she barked as she crossed the floor. “The Elders are waiting. Or should I give you another lesson on how to pour tea properly before you totally screw up in front of them again?”

My throat tightened, but I forced out, "It's okay, I'll handle it."

I was shaking so much I could hardly stand still. But I crouched down and started picking up the shards of broken porcelain. I was too embarrassed to even cry.

Her gaze flicked over me, from my worn sweater to the faint stains on my apron. "Yeah, good. Don't f*cking mess this up. Seriously, spirits forbid if you spill this sh*t and ruin another Elder's robes. The last thing we need is Lucien's shame over his trash Luna making another scene. Hurry the hell up!"

The words still cut deep, even though I had pretty much gotten used to them. Every single thing I did here was just a reminder that I didn't belong here.

From the moment I married Lucien, I had been fighting to survive in this house that wished I’d never been born.

It seemed that, no matter what I did, nothing would ever change.

Lucien was gone again, likely on another 'mission' or 'rogue ambush.' Just another excuse to avoid coming home to the mate he was forced to claim.

I remembered the night everything shattered. The smell of incense, the sting of spiked wine, and how my skin burned as if set on fire from the inside out. Furious and half-drugged, Lucien stumbled closer. His shirt was already unbuttoned, and his breath was coming out in ragged gasps.

He looked like he was about to snap, and something in me just knew—I had to get out. That's when I ran.

I barely made it five steps before his hand grabbed my arm, and then the mating heat tore through me.

We were both drugged, pushed into a mating neither of us wanted, trapped in a moment that was never meant to happen.

I didn't remember much after that. It was a blur of pain and pleasure, his body moving over mine as my body burned, his fingers gripping my thighs and his teeth scraping against my neck.

When I woke, there was a mating bond, and his mark was on my neck.

And the look on his face...

I had seen the horror, regret, and disgust.

And then suddenly, my father, Beta Ulric Greystone, stormed in with the Elders, parading our disgrace like a trophy.

“We caught them,” he said, smug with desperation. “She’s his mate. He has to take responsibility.”

Lucien had married me after that. It wasn't because he loved me or felt obligated. He was furious about being tricked. He was disgusted that he was stuck with the soft, awkward daughter of a disgraced Beta who had ruined his reputation.

We didn't speak the next day. The day after that, Lucien left for a mission.

Four weeks later, the morning sickness hit, and I knew immediately: I was carrying his baby. Just a few months after that, I learned I was pregnant with a baby girl.

That was five years ago.

I held on and stayed quiet. I gave birth to our daughter alone in the infirmary. He visited three days later. He glanced at her and said in disdain, “She has your eyes.” Then he left abruptly.

I knew my daughter's birth was considered a curse and total disgrace to the pack, simply because she wasn't a male heir.

I thought that was the last time we stood in the same room. And he treated me like shit ever since. Like I was a burden he couldn’t shake off, a stain on his reputation that just wouldn’t fade.

I kept my head down the whole time I poured the tea, pretending my hands weren’t shaking. The Elders barely looked at me—just a few bored nods, one disapproving sniff, and the usual whispering behind their cups like I wasn’t even standing there.

Marla hovered in the corner with that smug little smile, waiting for me to mess up. Too bad for her, every cup landed perfectly, not a single drop spilled. For once, I didn’t give her the satisfaction.

Once it was done, I slipped out of the room, finally able to take a full breath. I didn't get far, though; a guard stopped me halfway down the hall.

“Luna,” he said as he held out a folded note. “This just arrived. From Alpha Lucien.”

Against all sense, my heart spiked with foolish hope, even as I mentally demanded it to stop feeling.

Lucien never once wrote to me. He didn't check in when things were good, bad, or whatever this is… and definitely not now.

I just stared at the guard, wishing he'd say 'just kidding.' But he never did.

My fingers were numb as I took the note. I frowned right away as I read it.

Lucien wants to see me? Why now?

I swallowed, shoved the questions down, and forced myself to open it right there in the hallway—just in case it was some cruel joke, another setup to humiliate me.

But it wasn’t a long note, just one simple line: "Meet me at the north cabin. We need to talk."

My stomach twisted. There was no reason for him to call for me—not after the way everything between us broke.

Still, I folded the message, tucked it into my sleeve… and told myself I just needed answers.

Then I went to pack for the cabin.

I quickly tossed a few things—water, a jacket, my phone—into a tote bag. I kept telling myself this was going to be quick: get in, talk, get answers, and leave.

I was too focused, but I suddenly noticed tiny footsteps hurried across the floor.

“Mommy?”

I froze before I even turned. Wearing her bunny pajamas, Willow stood with her hair all sticking up. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her little fist.

Her little gaze dropped to the bag in my hand.

“You’re going somewhere,” she whispered, and her lip trembled like she was trying really hard not to cry.

My chest tightened. “Baby… It’s just for a little while. I need to see Daddy. You stay here and play with your toys, okay? Mommy will be right back.”

She shook her head immediately. She grabbed my leg with both arms like I might disappear if she let go.

“No,” she choked out. “I want to come with you.”

“Willow—”

“I miss Daddy.”

That one sentence hit harder than any blow ever could.

When she looked up at me with those big brown eyes—Lucien's eyes—something inside me shattered. Her small, broken voice whispered the devastating truth, “He never says hi and hugs me. Not even once."

I knelt down and cupped her cheeks, trying to steady my voice, though I was the one falling apart.

“Sweetheart… your daddy is very busy…”

She shook her head, and tears started rolling down her face. “Busy forever?”

Her question cut deep. It hurt because I couldn't answer her, and that was the problem. I didn't even know if Lucien ever saw her without remembering all the bad history between us.

She suddenly tugged my shirt, pleading, “If you see him… maybe he’ll see me. I’ll be good. Really good.”

Gosh! How do you explain to a four-year-old that love isn’t always enough to make people treat you right?

I pulled her into my arms, burying my face in her soft hair. Tears slipped out even though I tried to blink them away.

“I shouldn’t go,” I muttered into her small shoulder. “I should just stay with you.”

She leaned back and sniffed. “Then we both go. And he’ll have to see us.”

She said it like it was the most obvious solution in the world. And maybe to her, it was.

I hesitated. Every instinct screamed that going to that cabin was a bad idea. But Willow's tiny hand was clinging to my shirt, and letting go felt like abandoning her.

And she wasn’t wrong. Lucien was her father. She deserved to be seen. Even one moment would mean everything to her.

So I wiped her cheeks with my thumbs and nodded. “Okay. You can come with me.”

Her whole face lit up with a hope that terrified me—and yet, I didn’t take it back. Instead, I picked her up, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and carried her toward the door.

Willow was practically bouncing in my arms when we walked up the narrow dirt path to the cabin. She kept looking around like she expected her dad to jump out from behind a tree and yell “surprise,” and her excitement was so pure it made me want to believe it too.

The cabin door was already cracked open, warm light spilling out. That should’ve been my first warning. But Willow gasped and hugged my neck.

“He left the light on for us,” she whispered.

I pushed the door wider with my foot and stepped inside, still holding her. The place was too quiet, but Willow didn’t notice. She was scanning every corner with bright hope.

“Daddy?” she called softly.

I opened my mouth to tell her to wait for a second when the door behind us slammed shut. A loud metallic click followed.

My heart dropped.

Spinning toward the door, I tried the handle while holding Willow. It was locked from the outside. My instincts screamed that something was off.

Then something hissed.

At first, I thought it was the wind, but no… it was coming from the vents overhead. It was small gray trails of smoke curling out like fingers reaching into the air.

I didn’t need to smell it twice to understand. My wolf roared a warning in my head.

Poison. It was wolfsbane, but the strongest, most concentrated grade of poison I had ever smelled.

“Baby, hold your breath,” I said fast, pressing Willow’s head into my shoulder as I pulled my shirt over her face. “Don’t breathe, okay? Mommy’s got you.”

I kicked at the door, yanked at the handle, and slammed my shoulder against it, but nothing worked. Someone had locked us in here. We were trapped.

The smoke got thick fast and started sinking low. Willow twitched and coughed in my arms, even though I was trying to cover her. Her tiny fingers clawed weakly at my shirt.

“No, no, no—Willow, look at Mommy,” I begged, wiping her tears with shaking hands. “Stay with me, honey. Stay awake.”

Her eyes fluttered like she was fighting sleep as her lips went pale.

“Daddy…” she gasped out faintly.

I screamed out loud and desperately lifted her higher, anything to keep her away from the thick smoke near the floor. My legs were quickly going numb. Taking a breath was agony; my lungs felt like they were being torn apart from the inside.

Staggering to the window, I smashed my elbow into the glass. It didn't crack. It was clearly reinforced, designed to be unbreakable—a perfect murder trap.

Willow's body jerked just once, then completely stopped moving. Her head fell heavily against my chest.

“No no no no—Willow, please, Mommy’s right here, open your eyes—” I shook her, sobbed, and begged her to hold on, but her small hand slipped away from my shirt collar, dangling loose and weightless.

My wolf was screaming and clawing inside my mind, fighting to power limbs that were already failing and giving up.

It was then that I realized, under the choking haze and my own screams, that I heard the faint, hungry sound of flames. The heat hit me moments later.

This wasn't just murder. They were burning us to ashes so there would be nothing left to find.

Fire raced across the wood floor, crawling toward us like it knew our names. My skin blistered before the flames even reached us, the heat so brutal it felt like knives sinking into flesh.

Willow’s curls brushed my cheek one last time, and I held her tighter, even with my ragged breath.

I remembered her giggle from that night, and her excited words: 'Daddy will have to see us.

“I’m sorry, my baby girl,” I croaked. “I’m so sorry… I should’ve protected you…”

Smoke filled everything—my mouth, my lungs, my mind. I collapsed to my knees, still clinging to Willow, refusing to let her go even as pain ripped me apart from the inside out.

The fire swallowed the room.

My last thought wasn’t fear but regret.

If I had known it was the last time she would ever smile that brightly… I would have never taken that step outside.

A blinding wave of pain hit me next, so intense it ripped through my entire body and stopped me from making any sound. It swallowed me whole, pulling me deep into the cold, silent darkness of death.

That was when everything went dark.