Why Does Katniss Say 'I Was Never Choice' To Peeta?

“I don’t want you. I hate you.” Those words from her only son slice deeper than any blade. Sarah returns from the hospital expecting love, only to find her place at the family table stolen. Her husband, James, stands arm in arm with Tiana — his late brother’s widow, while her son clings to the other woman’s waist, rejecting his own mother. The betrayal does not end there. After a confrontation with Tiana, she woke up in an abandoned building, her hands tied, and mouth taped. Beside her was Tiana too. Tied. James stood, his confused gaze darting from Tiana to Sarah. And then came the baritone voice from one of the kidnappers: “One life. One choice. You can only save one. Choose!” Sarah turned, seeing how Tiana was communicating with the kidnappers with her eyes. She struggled to let James see the truth; that this was all a setup. But she couldn’t. Her mouth was tapped. But then, like a match striking steel, James’ voice came brittle and final. “Tiana.” He chose his ex over his own wife. Over the mother of his child. Sarah was abandoned in the warehouse. Immediately they left, the warehouse exploded, covered in flames. And Sarah’s screams and cries inside, filled the night. Did Sarah survive the fire outbreak? If she did, can they stand her revenge when she finally returns?

Rowan Nightshade slapped me in front of his friends, his guards, and the girl he had been protecting for months. The room went dead silent. Then someone whispered, “She deserved it.” For nine years, I had loved Rowan like he was my fate. I endured his coldness, his broken promises, and every time he left me standing alone because another girl needed him more. I kept telling myself it would get better. Rowan was my promised mate. Sooner or later, he would choose me first. But when his palm landed across my face, something inside me finally broke. Rowan thought I would cry, apologize, and forgive him like I always did. Instead, I walked out of the hall, deleted every way to contact him, and told both our packs the promised-mate agreement was over before sunrise. No one believed I would really leave. Until Rowan came to my dorm that night, his eyes red and his voice shaking. “Why, Serena? Just because of one slap?” I looked at the boy I had loved since childhood. Then I smiled. “Yes,” I said. “Because of that slap.”

In our Pack Alliance, every Alpha must choose his future Luna in front of everyone. The Alpha must touch the Sacred Moonstone. The stone reveals the inner wolf of his true mate. The brightest aura proves the Moon Goddess’s choice. For the first nine times, I was so sure about our intense bond. I believed that my inner wolf would shine the brightest for Ronan. But every single time, right in front of the whole pack, he chose Bianca—my adopted Omega sister. Right before the tenth and final trial, he confessed the truth. "I am going to choose Bianca again." "Why?" I asked. I fought the agonizing pain of my soul being ripped apart. "Because I was given a second chance," he said. "In my past life, Bianca begged me to pick her just once. She wanted to beat you. I said no." "Later, we mated. But she killed herself with Wolfsbane right after the ceremony." "She once took a fatal blow from a rogue wolf for me. I owe her my life. Next time, Lyra, I swear I will pick you." But a mate bond is not a game you can just restart. And he wasn’t the only one who remembered the past. In our past life, he grew cold and distant toward me because of Bianca's death. Even when he became the Alpha King, he was never happy. Right before he died, he swore: If there is a next life, I will never fail you. I believed him. This time around, I just thought there was a glitch in our bond. Now, this is the tenth time. Our agreed final chance to choose a Luna. Since he still chooses to betray our fated bond, I will follow the Moon Goddess’s guidance too. And mate with someone else.

I was given a second chance on the day my mate chose another she-wolf over me. In my last life, I fought to keep him. I begged, argued, and stood in his way, only to watch him blame me for everything he lost. On the day of our bonding ceremony, he made me pay for loving him. This time, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. When he wanted to take her to the Frost Territory, I packed his bag myself. When she smiled behind his back and called me replaceable, I let her. If he loved her so much, I would step aside. But the day he finally realized I was no longer waiting at the altar, I had already walked into another ceremony, in another pack, beside a man who had never once made me feel second best. My old mate thought I was teaching him a lesson. He was wrong. I was setting myself free.

I am Nova Silvermoon, Alpha’s daughter and the most powerful seer in three centuries. The Moon Goddess decreed my fated mate would be the next Alpha. In my past life, I rewrote fate to choose Kael Blackthorn who I’d loved since childhood. With my prophecies, I won him every war, forged him into the North’s most feared Alpha. On his coronation day, he chained me to the moonstone altar with silver, burning me alive. "I would’ve been Alpha without you!" he raged. "You exiled Lila!" In that searing moment, I understood: he’d only ever hated me. Reborn at the Moonstone Trial, I let fate run its course. He married Lila, who was a village songstress; I claimed my true mate. But why? Why when I finally walk away from him forever, he loses his mind?

My fiancé presented two engagement rings—one for me, one for my sister to choose first. The first was a three-carat fancy pink diamond, flown in from Antwerp, the kind that made dealers go quiet. The second was a plain platinum band, standard issue, the sort you buy off the tray as a backup. For the first time in my life, I pointed at the pink diamond. "I'll choose first this time." Dante Moretti ran his hand through my hair, the way you soothe a restless dog. "Eleanor, you know Grace has always been particular. If she can't have the best, she'd rather have nothing. You've never cared about any of this. The other one is fine." I didn't answer. My chest felt hollow. We'd grown up together—his father ran the West Coast territory, mine the East. But in Dante's eyes, I'd always been the second daughter, the one who got what Grace didn't want. Every summer, he'd cut watermelon and bring the first plate to Grace. She'd take the center slice—sweetest, seedless, deepest red. He'd push the rest toward me—the pale pink near the rind. "This part's still good. Just not as sweet." When he bought his first Maserati, Grace picked the front seat—less motion sickness. He gestured at the back. "A little tight, but you can pick either side." Even our love was secondhand. He'd loved Grace first. She chose her academic career over him. So Dante, wounded and restless, came to me. In his world, Grace was always the first choice. I looked at the platinum band and pushed it across the table. "Give them both to Grace. I don't want either."