Mag-log inAlpha King Lucien Storm didnāt answer with words. His grip on my waist tightened, his large, scarred palm burning fiercely hot through the thin midnight silk of my gown. Before I could even draw a clean breath, his arm anchored against my spine and he dragged me directly into the center of the polished obsidian floor.The orchestraās waltz swelled, the violins crying out a haunting, predatory melody, but the grand room around us went entirely dead silent.The ten-foot dead zone that had naturally insulated the King near the pillars shifted with us, cutting a path straight through the crowd. The other masked Alphas and ladies practically threw themselves backward, scrambling to clear a wide circle. Their eyes widened behind their lace visors, whispers breaking out like a sudden wildfire. The cold Alpha who had ignored every high-born female on the continent for three consecutive Selections, was finally dancing. And he was dancing with a nameless, midnight-clad shadow. Mask 99."You hav
The rules of the Lunar Selection Society were absolute, carved into the very stone of the grand ballroom: inside these gates, names were dead. Your identity was your mask, your voice was your currency, and your token was your life. To whisper a true name meant instant disqualification and banishment by the High Council. I slipped through the heavy velvet curtains and stepped onto the polished obsidian floor. My face hidden behind the diamond-cut silver of Mask 99. The room was a massive, single-tiered social colosseum. Hundreds of crystal candles floated overhead, casting a warm, flickering glow over the one hundred masked ladies and the invited elite Alphas. Every single participant was thrown into the same sea of wolves, forced to navigate the lethal currents of the opening trial: The Dance of Pheromones. The air was thick and dizzying. Waves of competing Alpha pheromones, scents of cedar, leather, dark oak, and iron vied for dominance, crashing against each other in an invisibl
The rain punished. It lashed against the heavy iron gates of the Lunar Selection Society, driving a thick, freezing mist over the hundreds of masked nobles waiting in the queue. Nobody complained. In the elite werewolf underworld, a prompt appearance at the Selection was the difference between an alliance and annihilation.I stood near the back of the line, the hem of my midnight-black silk gown dragging against the gravel. Unlike the women around me who shivered in their furs, my skin was deathly still. A quiet, concentrated heat rolled through my bone marrow, a tiny, controlled spark of the divine bloodline I had unlocked at the bottom of the ocean. It kept the freezing rain from numbing my fingers.āSteady, Aria,ā Nyx whispered deep inside my soul. She wasn't pacing or growling. She sat in the dark recesses of my mind like a spider on a web, her silver eyes tracking every guard, every weapon, and every security flaw. āHide the light. If the High Council detects even a single drop o
The storm arrived exactly when they planned my death. By five oāclock in the afternoon, the sky had turned an apocalyptic shade of bruised purple. Heavy, violent sheets of rain lashed against my bedroom window, mimicking the cold fury vibrating through my awakened veins. Downstairs, the house was a flurry of chaotic, high-society preparation. I could hear my motherās frantic, demanding voice barking instructions at the pack maids, and the sharp, rhythmic click of Seraphinaās designer heels pacing the floorboards. Tonight was the grand opening gala of the Lunar Selection Society. Tonight, Seraphina was supposed to step into a world of absolute luxury as Mask 27, completely built on the foundation of my stolen blood and sweat. And tonight, I was supposed to become a corpse. āThey are coming up the stairs,ā the divine, echoing frequency of my inner wolf whispered in my mind. She didnāt pace like a caged animal anymore. She was not panicking like in my last life, her eyes tracki
I stood outside the pack-house conservatory, holding a basket of freshly picked lunar-lilies from the clinic gardens. My father, the pack's healer had ordered me to deliver them to the Alphaās estate for the pre-gala decorations, a final chore to ensure I was kept busy while Seraphina finalized her beauty treatments at home. Every step I took sent a sharp, throbbing reminder through my taped ribs, but my mind was perfectly numb. I was just about to reach for the handle of the glass double doors when a low, familiar laugh stopped me cold. "Stop it, Kael... someone might see us," Seraphinaās voice giggled, breathless and airy. I froze, stepping back into the shadow of the thick ivy crawling up the brick wall. I had stumbled upon this in my past life but I didn't allow my mind to process it as a betrayal because I trusted Kael, I just delivered the flowers and went straight back home. But now, through the slightly dusty glass pane of the conservatory window, the scene unfolded like a
The morning light did not bring healing; it only illuminated the grotesque reality of my existence. Every breath I took felt like a jagged piece of glass scraping against my lungs. I stood in front of the small bathroom mirror, my hands trembling as I carefully wrapped thick medical bandages around my bruised ribs. The purple and blue contusions stretching across my skin were a brutal testament to my fatherās rage from last night, but the swelling on my left cheek was what made my stomach turn. āHe is a snake,ā a voice snarled deep within my consciousness. It was Nyx, my inner wolf. In the last life, she had been quiet, lulled to sleep by the same romantic delusions that had blinded me. But the sheer weight of the rebirth had shaken her awake. She wasn't just angry; she was feral. āKael Blackwood is not a victim of his elders, Aria. Look at the pieces you were blind to the last time. Look at how perfectly the trap snapped shut.ā I am looking, I thought back, wiping a drop of







