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Vespera's POV

I died with a silver blade in my heart and my husband's name on my lips.

And now I am awake. Alive. Lying in my childhood bed like none of it ever happened.

My hands fly to my chest, searching for the wound, the blood, the gaping hole where Virelle's blade carved through bone and tissue. But there is nothing. Just smooth skin beneath my silk nightgown. Just the steady thrum of a heartbeat that should not exist.

"No," I whisper. "No, no, no."

I sit up so fast the room spins. The canopy above my bed. The jasmine scent drifting through the open window. The distant clatter of servants preparing for something. It is all so familiar. Too familiar.

This is my father's house. This is the morning of my wedding.

I know because I have lived this day before. I have walked down this aisle. I have spoken these vows. I have smiled at the man who would one day stand aside while his former lover drove a blade through my heart.

"Vespera?"

The door creaks open and Maris steps inside. She is carrying a tray with tea and biscuits, her red hair pulled back in a hasty braid. She looks young. So young. The lines of worry that I remember from my final months are not there yet.

"You are awake," she says, relief flooding her voice. "I was afraid you would sleep through your own wedding."

I stare at her. Maris. My closest friend. The woman who held my hand when my father died. The woman who wept at my funeral.

No. Not yet. That has not happened yet.

"Vespera?" Maris sets the tray down and crosses to the bed. Her brow furrows. "You look pale. Are you ill?"

"I am fine." The words come out flat. Wrong. I force a smile, but it feels like a mask stretched over a skull. "Just nervous."

Nervous. As if nervous could begin to describe the storm raging inside me.

Maris sits on the edge of the bed and takes my hand. Her fingers are warm. Alive. "You do not have to do this, you know. If you have changed your mind, I will help you. We can find a way."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. In my past life, she said the same thing. I laughed at her, told her she was being silly, told her I was marrying for love. And she smiled and helped me into my dress and watched me walk toward my doom.

This time, I do not laugh.

"I have to do this," I say. "The pack needs this alliance. Tavian is not ready. Father is gone. If I refuse, we will be vulnerable."

"The pack can survive without you selling yourself to the highest bidder."

"Can it?" I pull my hand away and stand. The floor is cold beneath my bare feet. "The Crimsonfang Pack has been circling our borders for months. The rogues grow bolder every day. We need the Blackmoon Pack's protection. We need Rhydian."

The name tastes like poison on my tongue.

Maris watches me, her eyes sharp. She has always been able to see through me, even when I did not want to be seen. "You are afraid."

"Of course I am afraid. I am about to marry the most powerful Alpha in the region. Anyone would be afraid."

"That is not what I mean." She stands and crosses to me, taking my face in her hands. "You are afraid of him. Of Rhydian. I saw it the first time you met him. The way you looked at him. Like he was a wolf about to tear out your throat."

I swallow hard. "I do not know what you are talking about."

"You have been different lately. Ever since your father died. You smile less. You laugh less. You look at people like you are waiting for them to betray you."

Because I am, I want to scream. Because I have already been betrayed. Because I have already died.

But I cannot tell her that. She would think I have lost my mind. And maybe I have.

"I am fine," I say again. "Truly. I just need to get through today."

Maris holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she sighs and releases me. "All right. If you say so. But if you change your mind, I am here. I will always be here."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. If I open my mouth, I will tell her everything. I will tell her about the blade, about Virelle's laughter, about the way Rhydian stood by and watched me die. And then she will think I am mad, and I will lose the only friend I have left.

Maris helps me dress. The gown is white, lace and silk, exactly as I remember. She chatters while she works, about the guests, about the ceremony, about how beautiful I look. I let her words wash over me, not really listening.

When she leaves to fetch the veil, I turn to the mirror.

The woman staring back at me is beautiful. Dark hair cascading down her back. Porcelain skin. Lips painted the color of blood.

But her eyes are dead.

I do not recognize myself. The woman I was in my past life was soft. Trusting. She believed in love and goodness and happy endings. That woman died with a silver blade in her heart.

The woman in the mirror is something else. Something harder. Something colder.

I wonder if I will ever feel warm again.

A knock at the door makes me flinch.

"Vespera?" Tavian's voice. My brother. My little brother, who I raised after our mother died, who I protected from our father's rages, who I love more than anyone in this world.

"Come in."

He steps inside, dressed in his finest clothes, his dark hair combed back. He is beaming. So happy. So proud.

"You look beautiful," he says. "Rhydian is the luckiest man alive."

I feel a flash of rage so intense it makes my vision blur. He does not know. He does not understand. He thinks I am marrying for love. He thinks this is a happy day.

"You are quiet," Tavian says, his smile fading. "Are you all right?"

"Just nervous."

"You keep saying that." He crosses to me and takes my hands. "Vespera, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

I look into his eyes, and for a moment, I want to tell him. I want to tell him that his sister died, that she was murdered, that the man she is about to marry is a monster. But I cannot. He would not believe me. And even if he did, it would not change anything.

"I know," I say. "I am fine. Truly."

Tavian studies me for a moment, then nods. "All right. But if you need anything, I am here."

"I know."

He offers me his arm. "Shall we?"

I take a deep breath. This is it. This is the moment I choose my fate.

I could refuse. I could run. I could find a way to kill Rhydian before he has the chance to destroy me.

But that would put Tavian in danger. That would put Maris in danger. That would put the entire Silvermoon Pack in danger.

I will not let my people suffer for my choices. I will not let my brother die because I was too afraid to do what must be done.

I will marry Rhydian. I will play the role of the loving wife. And then I will find a way to destroy him before he destroys me.

"I am ready," I say.

Tavian leads me through the house, down the stairs, through the garden where the ceremony will take place. The guests are already seated. I see faces I recognize, faces I have not seen in years. Some of them are dead in my memories. Some of them will die soon.

The ceremony is being held in the garden, beneath an arch of white roses. The Alpha stands at the altar, waiting for me. Rhydian Crowe.

He looks exactly as I remember. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. He is handsome. Striking. The kind of man that women dream about.

But I know what he really is. I know the coldness that lurks beneath the surface. I know the ambition that drove him to reject his fated mate and marry me instead. I know the indifference with which he will watch me die.

Or do I?

The thought comes unbidden, and I push it away. Of course I know. I lived it. I died for it.

But as I walk toward him, I notice something strange. His eyes are not cold. They are nervous. His hands are trembling slightly at his sides. When he sees me, his breath catches, and something flickers across his face. Something that looks almost like relief.

No. It is an act. It has to be.

I reach the altar and place my hands in his. His skin is warm. His grip is gentle.

"Vespera," he says, and his voice is rough. "You are beautiful."

I force a smile. "Thank you."

The ceremony begins. The priestess speaks the ancient words, binding us together in the eyes of the Moon Goddess and the pack. I answer when I am supposed to answer. I say the vows. I let him slide the ring onto my finger.

And all the while, I am thinking about the blade. The blood. The laughter.

"Do you, Vespera Vale, take this man to be your husband?"

I hesitate. Just for a moment.

I could still run. I could still change my fate.

But then I remember Tavian. Maris. My pack.

"I do."

The words taste like ash.

Rhydian leans in to kiss me, and I let him. His lips are soft, tentative. He kisses me like I am something precious, something fragile.

But I know better. I know what he really is.

I pull back and look into his eyes. He is smiling, but there is something behind the smile. Something I cannot read.

"I will protect you," he whispers. "I swear it."

I do not respond. I cannot.

Because I know how this story ends. I know the promise will be broken. I know the protection will fail.

But this time, I will be ready.

This time, I will not die.