TWO

CIARA’S POV

Ciara… Child, are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost."

The voice sent ice through my veins.

I knew that voice. Had dreamed of it, ached for it, broken over its loss. But it was impossible. It couldn’t be real.

Because my mother was dead.

She had died four years ago, ripped apart in a demon attack alongside my father shortly after Ronan and I had consummated the mate bond. I had buried them. Mourned them. Died wishing I could see them one last time.

Yet, when I turned my head, there she was.

My mother.

Alive.

I stared at her, unable to breathe, unable to process what my own eyes were telling me. She sat across from me in a sleek limousine, concern softening the sharpness of her features. Her golden-brown hair was swept up elegantly, her emerald eyes studying me with the same warmth I had lost years ago. Even the faint scent of her favorite jasmine perfume filled the air, mingling with the luxurious leather interior.

This wasn't a dream. It wasn't an illusion.

I was here.

"What's going on?" I choked out, barely recognizing my own voice.

My mother’s frown deepened. "Ciara, are you nervous?" She reached for my hand, her touch warm, solid. "You were fine this morning, sweetheart. Don’t tell me an introduction to society has you this rattled?"

I couldn’t speak. My mind reeled.

Introduction to society?

"What is going on?" I couldn't help but ask again, my voice cracking.

"What is going on," my mother repeated, tilting her head. "Are you nervous, sweetheart?"

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes. "This can't be real."

My mother shifted from where she was seated and moved closer to me. "Come on, baby. An introduction to society can't be that bad." She squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're an O'Callahan. Half the werewolves you'll see at that ball would kill for a piece of you."

"You can't be real," I whispered, reaching out to touch her face. My fingers met warm skin. Not a ghost. Not a hallucination.

My mother's brow furrowed with concern. "What is going on with you, baby? You were fine this morning."

Was this heaven? Or some cruel form of hell designed to torture me with what I'd lost? But the details were too specific, too perfect. The dress I wore was a floor-length gown of midnight blue with silver accents. I recognized it. This was the dress I'd worn to my first ball as an adult. The night I'd met Ronan.

"What's today?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"February 26, 2020," my mother replied, looking increasingly worried. "Ciara, you're scaring me."

"What?" I pulled out my phone with trembling hands. The date confirmed what she'd said. "How am I here?"

"You're not making any sense, darling." My mother reached for a crystal decanter. "Do you need a drink?"

"Yes," I nodded desperately.

She poured me some wine, which I downed almost immediately, welcoming the burn in my throat. Anything to ground me in this impossible reality.

My mother chuckled. "You're taking this being an adult quite seriously."

I laughed too, but it was hollow. My mind raced. I had died or at the very least, I was certain of it. I had felt the silver burning through my veins, had felt my life draining away on the floor of the kitchen as Brigid, Ronan, and Ewan stood over me.

And in my final moments, I had wished for another chance.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I had gone back in time. Five years back, to be precise. Before I met Ronan. Before the mate bond. Before Erin. Before everything.

I was being given a second chance.

The car came to a halt, jarring me from my thoughts.

"Look," my mother said, nodding toward the window. "We're here."

I looked outside and saw the grand mansion of the O'Donoghue estate lit up like a fairy tale castle against the night sky. Lanterns lined the long driveway, and luxury cars dropped off guests in glittering attire.

The sight of it made my stomach twist with dread. Somewhere inside that beautiful building was Ronan O'Donoghue, the man who would become my mate, my husband, and eventually, my murderer.

I had walked into that ballroom five years ago, young and naïve, thinking I had found love. I had danced with him, laughed with him, let the bond sink its claws into me. I had let my guard down.

And it had cost me everything.

But not this time. This time, I wouldn’t be the foolish girl who fell into his trap.

This time, I would survive.

The door opened and my mother stepped out, her elegant emerald gown which matched her eyes catching the golden light from the lanterns. She turned back to me, extending her hand.

"Ciara? Are you coming, sweetheart?" There was concern in her eyes, something I'd been too nervous to notice the first time around.

I took a deep breath and fixed my hair, smoothing down the midnight blue fabric of my dress. "Yes. Sorry."

I took her hand, the warmth of her touch still feeling like a miracle. Together, we walked up the grand staircase toward the entrance, and I desperately tried to remember how this night had originally unfolded.

Nothing significant had happened when I first entered. I remembered it quite well. It was just my mother parading me around, introducing me to pack members she had connections with. Boring small talk, nervous smiles, the typical debut experience. But I also knew everything was going to change the moment when an old friend of my mother's had introduced us to Brigid O'Donoghue, the Second Luna of the Silvercrest Pack.

Brigid. The memory of her gentle hands plunging a silver dagger into my stomach made me stumble on the steps.

"Careful!" My mother steadied me, laughing lightly. "Those shoes are treacherous. Maybe we should have gone with a lower heel."

I forced a smile. "I'm fine."

I remembered quite well how it transpired. Because it had once been a happy memory. After meeting Brigid, I had been introduced to her sons. The O'Donoghue twins, Ronan and Ewan. Ronan had offered me a drink to calm my nerves, and when I had taken a sip, the mate bond had snapped into place like a bear trap. Instant, irreversible, devastating in its finality.

I had to make sure that never happened. Ronan and I could never cross paths tonight.

"Honestly, you'd think he'd have the sense to stay away after what happened at the Henderson gathering," a voice behind us whispered, pulling me from my thoughts.

"I know! I can't believe Alpha Darragh Byrne is here," another girl responded, her voice dripping with disdain.

I turned slightly, catching sight of two young women a few steps below us. One of them caught me looking and rolled her eyes dramatically before turning to the subject of her interest.

"Who would want to pair with a man who's that much trouble?" she added, clearly wanting all close by to hear.

Darragh Byrne. The name triggered a flood of memories. Alpha of the Moonveil Pack, known for his rebellious streak and stubborn refusal to follow traditional protocols.

Darragh was the kind of leader who carved his own path, even when it meant walking through fire. We were never close, not in the way of confidants or friends, but there was a mutual respect between us that I had always valued. He treated me as an equal, something rare in the world of packs and politics, especially during those early days after my parents’ deaths.

I remembered the social gatherings, the stifling air of expectation as I stood in rooms filled with alphas and elders, all watching me, judging me. I was young, untested, and drowning in grief, yet Darragh never treated me like a decorative piece or a fragile relic to be pitied. He spoke to me as if I were already the leader I was struggling to become. His respect was genuine, untainted by the condescension or thinly veiled ambition I saw in so many others. It was a small kindness, but one that had stayed with me before I had foolishly handed my title to Ronan to rule my pack.

It was almost hilarious to see that the rumors about his personality followed him this far back. I knew it all. Hot-headed, Impulsive… The polar opposite of the "perfect" Alpha that Ronan pretended to be.

A smile tugged at my lips. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage.

"I've spotted Eliza and Margaret," my mother said, pulling me toward the entrance. "I have to introduce you to some of my friends. They've been dying to meet you."

I nodded, allowing her to guide me, but my mind was racing. Time was ticking. According to my memory, we would meet Brigid within the first hour. Which meant I had less than sixty minutes to devise a plan that would change the entire course of my future.

Or more accurately, to ensure that my future never happened at all.