Bruce
My little sister Vanessa was obsessed with werewolf lore, convinced she was destined to marry a powerful Alpha.
When Rex, the Alpha of the Firwood Pack, saved her during a riot, she thought fate had finally set its gears in motion.
What she didn't know was that Rex saved her simply because she resembled what his fated mate had looked like in her youth—
Helena, the Luna of the Firwood Pack.
Any sane woman would've walked away.
Vanessa saw it as her golden ticket to the top.
She secretly mapped out Helena's usual routes, hired outlaws to stage a brutal car crash, and sprinkled silver dust—lethal to wolves—across the wreckage.
Her plan? Wait for the esteemed Luna to draw her last breath, then step in as the "first witness who risked her life to help," climbing over the body to claim her place.
Vanessa was convinced that once Helena was gone, she'd be the next Luna.
In my past life, I snatched the keys before she could move, locked her in her room, and begged her to come to her senses.
Rex wasn't some lovestruck wolf from those cross-species romance novels—he was the iron-fisted Alpha who ruled the entire territory.
A wolf's mate bond was carved into the soul.
If he ever uncovered the truth, he wouldn't just tear her apart—he'd reduce our entire human family to ash.
Vanessa nodded through her tears, swearing she'd let it go.
But that night, she drove a silver blade straight through my heart.
As I lay dying, she leaned in and whispered:
"You ruined my chance to be Luna, Eileen. So you had to die."
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment she made her move.