Six Months Earlier

I woke up screaming.

My hands clawed at my throat, searching for silver chains that weren't there. My lungs heaved, dragging in air that didn't taste like frozen river water. My heart hammered against my ribs, alive, terrified, and beating.

"Sera? Sera!"

The bedroom door burst open and Damien rushed in, his amber eyes wide with concern. He wore only pajama pants, and the sight of him, alive, here, real, sent a jolt of pure terror through my body.

I scrambled backward onto the bed.

"Stay away from me."

He froze, hands raised. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a nightmare. You're safe."

Baby. He called me baby. Like he cared. Like he loved me. Like he wasn't going to wrap me in silver chains and throw me off a cliff.

"What's wrong?" He used that soothing Alpha tone that usually made my wolf purr. "Did you have another nightmare?"

I forced myself to breathe. To think. My gaze swept the room: our bedroom in the Pack House. The king-sized bed. The floor-to-ceiling windows. His scent is everywhere: pine and earth and Alpha power.

The scent that used to make me feel safe.

"What's the date?" The question burst out.

"What?"

"What day is it?"

Damien frowned. "It's Friday. June thirteenth. Are you sure you're...?

June thirteenth.

Six months. Exactly six months before December thirteenth. Before the rejection ceremony. Before my death.

The Moon Goddess had kept her word.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, half hysteria, half relief. Damien's frown deepened.

"I'm calling Dr. Moira."

"No!" I grabbed his wrist before thinking. The mate bond flared hot and bright, flooding me with his emotions: concern, confusion, and underneath it all, irritation.

Irritation that I'd interrupted his sleep.

I dropped his hand.

"I'm fine," I said firmly. "Really. Just a nightmare. I don't need the pack doctor for bad dreams."

He studied me with those sharp Alpha eyes. I forced myself to smile. To be the Sera he expected: soft, gentle, easily soothed.

It was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

"You've been having a lot of nightmares lately," he said.

Had I? I searched for my memories from before. Yes. Dreams of drowning, of falling, of silver burning my skin. The Moon Goddess is trying to warn me.

"I'll make an appointment with Dr. Moira next week," I lied smoothly.

"Good." His relief was palpable. He moved toward the door, then paused. "I have that meeting with Beta Cross tomorrow. The one about timber rights. I might be late. Don't wait."

Beta Cross. Vivian's father.

"Of course," I murmured. "I understand."

He smiled, that devastating smile that had made me fall in love with him. "Get some rest, baby. I love you."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"I love you too," I whispered, because that's what the old Sera would say.

He left, closing the door softly.

The moment he was gone, I collapsed against the pillows, shaking. I was alive. I was six months in the past. I was sharing a bed with the man who would murder me.

I slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom, locking the door. The marble floor was cold under my bare feet. I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

The face that looked back was younger. Softer. My midnight-black hair is longer. My violet eyes brighter, without shadows. I looked happy.

Gods, I looked so stupidly, naively happy.

"You have no idea," I whispered to my reflection. "No idea what's coming."

I found the small leather journal I'd kept for dreams and began to write:

June 13th. 6 months until December 13th.

Things I know: Damien is having an affair with Vivian Cross

 Vivian will claim a pregnancy rejection ceremony on December 13th. They kill me the same night: silver, Widow's Peak, river. Someone orchestrated this beyond them. My mother's bloodline is important.

Things I need to do: Document everything, secure my finances, build alliances. Train Find out who really wants me dead SURVIVE

I paused, then added one more line:

Make them pay.

I hid the journal in the bottom of my tampon box, the one place Damien would never look. Then I returned to bed.

Through the windows, the sky was lightening with dawn. In a few hours, the pack would wake. I'd sit beside Damien and play the perfect Luna.

And no one would know that I was already dead.

That I'd died screaming, betrayed by everyone I loved.

That I'd come back wrong. Or maybe, finally, right.

I woke for the second time to sunlight and an empty bed. Damien's side was cold. He'd been gone for a while.

My phone buzzed with the daily pack schedule:

7:00 AM: Communal breakfast 9:00 AM: Luna's council meeting 2:00 PM: Visit to pack school 6:00 PM: Dinner with Alpha

I remembered this day. All of it. The boring garden committee meeting. Little Tommy Reeves asking if I was friends with the Moon Goddess. Dinner with Damien checking his phone constantly.

Texting Vivian.

I chose dark jeans and a black sweater instead of the soft dresses Damien preferred. Comfortable. Practical. Easy to move in.

As I dressed, I caught sight of the mate mark on my neck: a silver crescent moon. In six months, it would fade when the bond broke.

This time, I'd be alive to enjoy my freedom.

Downstairs, the Pack House bustled with activity. Everyone I passed smiled and greeted me.

"Good morning, Luna!"

I smiled back, but inside I was cataloging. Remembering.

Marcus Reed nodded as we passed. In two days, his brother would crash his car. Patricia Lowell waved from the dining hall. In three months, her mate would die of a heart attack. Tommy Reeves ran past, laughing. In five months, he'd nearly died of pneumonia.

I knew so much. So many futures, so many fates.

Which ones should I change? Which lives should I save?

You have to choose: save them or save yourself.

The dining hall was filled with pack members eating breakfast. I spotted Damien at Alpha's table, deep in conversation with Gamma Lucas. He looked up as I approached, his face softening.

"There she is. Feeling better?"

"Much better, thank you," I sat, accepting the plate brought to me.

We were halfway through breakfast when the dining hall doors opened.

Honeysuckle and ambition.

Vivian.

I looked up slowly as Vivian Cross walked in with her father, Beta Cross of Shadowpine Pack. She was beautiful: honey-blonde hair, green eyes, a figure-hugging dress. She moved with practiced confidence.

Her eyes found Damien immediately.

And his found hers.

The look that passed between them lasted only a second, but I saw it. The heat. The familiarity. The secret.

My fingers tightened around my fork.

"Alpha Blackwood!" Beta Cross boomed. "Apologies for the early intrusion. My daughter insisted on visiting."

"Not at all," Damien said smoothly, standing. "You're always welcome. Both of you." His eyes lingered on Vivian.

I stood as well. Every eye was on me, watching how the Luna would react.

In my past life, I'd been gracious. Welcoming. Nice.

Now I smiled and walked over. "Beta Cross, wonderful to see you again. And Vivian. It's been too long."

"Luna Sera." Vivian's eyes swept over my casual clothes. "You look... comfortable."

The insult was subtle but clear.

In my past life, I would have made excuses.

Now?

"I am, thank you. I find that true confidence doesn't require designer labels. But I appreciate your concern for my wardrobe."

Her smile tightened. Damien looked surprised. Several pack members hid smiles.

"Would you like to join us for breakfast?" Damien asked quickly.

"I'd love to," Vivian said, choosing the seat directly across from Damien. Perfect positioning. She leaned forward, giving him an excellent view.

His eyes flickered down.

The mate bond twisted in my chest.

"So, Luna Sera," Beta Cross said pleasantly, "Damien tells me you've been doing wonderful work with charitable initiatives."

"I try," I said modestly.

"It's so sweet that you focus on charity," Vivian purred. "I prefer more active roles. Politics, business, strategy." She looked at Damien. "True leadership requires a firm hand and sharp mind, don't you agree, Alpha?"

"Absolutely. A strong Luna is essential."

A strong Luna. The implication: Sera isn't strong enough.

The old Sera would have shrunk.

I smiled serenely. "You're absolutely right, Vivian. Though I've always believed true strength isn't about how loudly you assert yourself. It's about knowing when to speak and when to observe. You learn so much more that way."

The threat was subtle but clear: I see you. I'm watching.

Vivian's eyes narrowed. Marcus, sitting nearby, was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.

As soon as breakfast ended, I excused myself. Damien barely noticed, too busy with Beta Cross while Vivian hung on his every word.

I headed not to the garden committee meeting, but to my mother's old study, locked since her death eight years ago.

I pulled out the key I'd always carried but rarely used. My hands shook as I unlocked the door.

The study was dusty but preserved. Bookshelves filled with texts on wolf history. My mother's desk was covered in photos and papers.

The third drawer was locked.

I remembered: my mother wore a key on a chain. The chain I now wore, thinking it was just jewelry.

I pulled it out. The small silver key fits perfectly.

Inside was a single leather journal. I lifted it carefully.

The first page bore my mother's handwriting:

For Sera, when she's ready.

 When the time comes to know the truth about what we are.

I turned the page.

We are not just Lunas. We are Selene's Daughters, a bloodline blessed and cursed by the Moon Goddess herself. Every seventh generation, a daughter is born with the full power of the ancient Lunas. Power to unite packs, to challenge Alphas, to reshape the werewolf world.

I was the sixth generation.

Sera is the seventh.

My breath caught.

The seventh generation. The one with power.

The one someone feared.

The one worth killing.

I sank into my mother's chair, clutching the journal.

Outside, the sun climbed higher.

Inside, I learned exactly why I had to die.

And exactly how I was going to make sure I lived instead.

TO BE CONTINUED...