THREE

CIARA’S POV

I was introduced to Eliza and Margaret, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly as I settled into the familiar rhythm of pack greetings. Margaret's eyes crinkled at the corners as she leaned in, her perfume heavy with jasmine and vanilla.

"It's a shame Sarah isn't debuting this year," she said with a conspiratorial smile. "I bet you two would be fast friends."

I nodded politely, the irony bittersweet on my tongue. If only she knew how right she was, that in another timeline, another life, Sarah had indeed become one of my closest confidantes. "I'm sure we would," I replied, the certainty in my voice drawing a curious glance from Eliza.

Turning away from their expectant gazes, I let my eyes roam across the gathering. The grand hall glittered with chandeliers that cast dancing shadows across the faces of wolves dressed in their finest. The scent of wine and expensive cologne hung thick in the air, almost but not quite masking the underlying notes of power and politics.

That's when I spotted him. Ewan, standing alone by one of the tall windows, a glass already dangling from his fingers. The amber liquid caught the light as he tipped it back, his throat working as he swallowed. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

"He must already be grieving the coming loss of his lover," I whispered to myself, knowing what was to come for him. The tragedy that had not yet happened but was as real to me as the marble floor beneath my feet.

Eliza's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and clear. "Pleasantries aside, the Blackthorne Luna just has to meet with Brigid, Second Luna of the Silvercrest pack."

I turned to her, confusion furrowing my brow. That wasn't right. In my timeline, it hadn't been Eliza who mentioned Brigid. The discrepancy rang like a false note in a familiar song. Had I remembered it wrong, or was the past already shifting in response to my death and subsequent return?

Before I could dwell on it, Brigid herself approached, her silver streaked hair which she was not yet so obsessed with dying black swept up in an elegant knot, her posture rigid with the weight of her cracking position.

"Hello, Luna," she greeted, her curious eyes assessing.

My mother stepped forward, her chin tilted with the quiet confidence that had always defined her. "Jade O'Callahan, Luna of the Blackthorne pack," she replied, resting a hand on my shoulder. "And this is my daughter, Ciara O’Callahan."

I felt the weight of Brigid's gaze shift to me, calculating and cold. Panic fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird. I needed an escape, a reason to slip away from this conversation that was already deviating from the script I knew.

That's when I saw him. Darragh's tall figure standing out in the sea of werewolves. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt, clutching a full wine glass as though it were a shield against unwanted interaction.

"I have to go," I said abruptly, extending my hand to Brigid. "It was lovely to see you though." I made sure to slur my words and give that plastic smile my best go.

I didn't wait for a response. I marched away immediately, my steps quick as I navigated through the crowd toward Darragh. He stood awkwardly against one of the stone pillars, his full glass betraying his reluctance to partake in the evening's festivities.

Without hesitation, I plucked the glass from his hand, our fingers brushing momentarily. "Hi," I said, bringing the rim to my lips and taking a deliberate sip.

Surprise flickered across his face, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. "You're a bold one, aren't you?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, a rich baritone that seemed to resonate in my chest.

I chuckled, knowing exactly what impression I was creating. The aloof Alpha, disliked by many, suddenly giving his attention to me. It was a calculated move to keep others at bay, especially Ronan, whose interest I couldn't afford to encourage in this timeline.

"Sometimes, boldness is necessary," I replied, meeting his gaze over the rim of the glass.

I was about to take another sip when it hit me, a scent so potent it made my hand freeze midair. Sweet but musky, like aromatic oils infused with something distinctly masculine. It wrapped around me, seeping into my senses and igniting something primal within.

My wolf, usually a quiet presence at the back of my mind, suddenly surged forward with such force that I physically stumbled back a step. Her reaction was visceral, a howl of recognition that echoed through every fiber of my being.

Mate.

The glass slipped from my fingers, hitting the marble floor with a crash that seemed distant beneath the roaring of blood in my ears. Wine splashed across the floor like spilled blood, but I couldn't look away from Darragh's face.

This wasn't right. This hadn't happened before. In my previous life, Darragh had been nothing to me, an Alpha from another pack, respected but distant. There had been no recognition, no pull, no overwhelming scent that made my wolf paw desperately at the surface of my consciousness.

"Are you alright?" Darragh asked, his hand reaching out to steady me.

The moment his fingers touched my arm, a jolt of electricity shot through me, so intense it left me breathless. My wolf howled louder, clawing desperately to get to him.

Mate. Ours. Mate.

"I, I'm fine," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I think I... need some air."

But I couldn't move, couldn't break away from his touch. The connection between us had snapped into place like a lock finding its key, and the reality of what was happening crashed over me like a wave.

Darragh was my mate. My soul's perfect match, the one wolf meant to complement mine in every way.

But how? How could this fundamental truth have changed? Mates were determined by the Moon Goddess at birth, it wasn't something that could shift or alter, even with time travel. Right? This revelation shook the very foundation of everything I thought I knew about my return.

His eyes widened slightly, and I suspected he felt it too, perhaps that was simply a thought in my head but he had to have felt it too. Something flickered in his expression, confusion mixed with a dawning awareness that mirrored my own shock.

"I'll get you some water," Darragh said, his voice sounding distant through the rushing in my ears. "Stay here."

I nodded mutely, watching as he disappeared into the crowd, my fingers still tingling from where he'd touched me. My mind raced, trying to make sense of not just one but two significant changes to the timeline I thought I knew so well.

"I saw you choking. Do you need some water?"

The voice froze my blood. That familiar cadence, the false concern barely masking something darker beneath. Slowly, as if moving through molasses, I raised my gaze.

Ronan stood before me, a smile curving his lips that never reached his eyes. In his hand, a crystal glass of water caught the light, distorting it.

My entire body went rigid, the breath solidifying in my lungs. The room around me seemed to shrink, the chatter and music fading to a high-pitched whine in my ears. My hands began to tremble, and I curled them into fists at my sides, my nails digging crescents into my palms.

His scent hit me next, that cologne with undertones of cedar and something bitter that I'd come to associate with pain. My stomach lurched violently.

"You look pale," he said, stepping closer.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The memories crashed over me in relentless waves—his mother’s hands dealing the killing wound on my flesh, his voice whispering the wicked truth about our marriage, the helplessness I had felt when he systematically dismantled every part of who I was with those simple words.

I wanted him dead. I wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes. Yet here he stood, whole and untouched, looking at me with that same possessive gleam that had haunted me.

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring his face. My throat closed up, my wolf cowering deep within me, away from one of the monsters who had broken her spirit and taken her life.

Ronan moved closer still, the water glass now inches from my face. "Drink," he commanded, the single word carrying all the weight of our shared history that he couldn't possibly remember but was somehow written into the very fiber of his being.

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. My body remembered the pain even if this version of him had yet to inflict it. The room spun around me, dark spots dancing at the edges of my vision. My legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath me.

Run, my wolf whispered, but terror had cemented me to the spot, trapped in the gaze of the man who had once destroyed me.

Just when I was certain that my body was going to give, I heard Darragh’s voice.

"She's with me."

The words were simple, but the power behind them was unmistakable. Ronan's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at Darragh who now stood beside me, his presence solid and commanding.