Reborn to be Marked by the Alpha

My eyes snapped open like I'd been struck by lightning.

The familiar water stain on my bedroom ceiling stared back at me—that butterfly-shaped mark I'd memorized during countless sleepless nights as a teenager. But this couldn't be real. I had died. I remembered the teeth, the claws, the way my blood had steamed in the snow.

My hand flew to my throat, fingers frantically searching for the wounds that should have been there. Nothing. Just smooth, unmarked skin and the rapid flutter of my pulse.

I sat up slowly, my body trembling as the full horror of my memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. The humiliation. Marcus's cruel laughter. Rina's betrayal. The pack watching as I was forced to my knees, their faces twisted with amusement at my degradation.

But I was alive. Whole. And according to the calendar on my nightstand, it was three years ago—the day after Marcus had proposed.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. A second chance. The universe had given me a second chance.

I stumbled to the bathroom on unsteady legs, gripping the sink as I stared at my reflection. The face looking back was younger, softer, unmarked by the trauma that had aged me beyond my years. But my eyes—my eyes held the weight of everything I'd endured. They were the eyes of someone who had died and clawed her way back from hell.

"Marcus," I whispered to my reflection, my voice hoarse with emotion. "Rina." Their names tasted like poison on my tongue. "You will pay for everything. I will strip you of all you hold dear, just as you did to me."

The girl in the mirror smiled back, and it was a terrible thing—all sharp edges and cold promise.

A knock at my bedroom door shattered the moment.

"Selena?" Marcus's voice drifted through the wood, warm and affectionate in that practiced way I now recognized as performance. "Are you ready for breakfast, sweetheart? We have the venue walkthrough today, remember?"

The venue walkthrough. For our wedding that would never happen.

I closed my eyes, steeling myself. I had to be careful. One wrong move, one slip that revealed I knew what was coming, and I'd lose any advantage this miraculous rebirth had given me.

"Coming!" I called back, forcing my voice into the sweet, compliant tone he expected.

I dressed quickly in a soft pink sundress—the kind of feminine, demure outfit the old Selena would have chosen to please him. When I opened the door, Marcus was waiting in the hallway, devastatingly handsome in that way that had once made my heart skip. Now, looking at his perfectly styled hair and practiced smile, I felt only revulsion.

"There's my beautiful fiancée," he murmured, reaching for me with those hands that had once held Rina while I knelt in the dirt.

He pulled me close, his scent of sandalwood and arrogance filling my nostrils as he leaned in for a kiss. Every instinct screamed at me to pull away, to claw at his face, to make him hurt the way he'd hurt me. Instead, I forced myself to remain still as his lips pressed against mine.

The kiss was brief, perfunctory—nothing like the passionate claiming he'd given Rina in front of the entire pack. I was just the placeholder, the convenient choice until something better came along.

When he pulled back, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Annoyance?

"You seem distant this morning," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Everything alright?"

"Just tired," I lied, pressing a hand to my temple. "I have a bit of a headache."

His expression shifted to one of mild irritation, quickly masked. The old Selena wouldn't have noticed, but I catalogued every micro-expression now, filing them away for future use.

"Well, we can't postpone the walkthrough," he said, his voice taking on that edge I'd once mistaken for passion. "This wedding is important, Selena. For both our families."

Important for his social climbing, he meant. For the connections my family's modest wealth could provide.

"Of course," I agreed sweetly. "I wouldn't dream of disappointing you."

The day passed in a blur of forced smiles and wedding preparations that felt like planning my own funeral. But it was that evening, at the pack gathering, that the real test began.

The Blue Moon Bar was packed with young pack members, the air thick with laughter, music, and the mingled scents of dozens of wolves. I spotted Rina immediately—she stood near the bar in a tight red dress that left little to the imagination, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of silk.

She was beautiful, I had to admit. The kind of stunning that drew every eye in the room. No wonder Marcus had chosen her over me.

"Selena!" she squealed when she saw me, rushing over with a drink already in hand. "You look adorable! Though maybe a little... conservative?"

The subtle dig hit exactly where it was meant to. In my past life, I would have blushed and stammered an apology. Now, I simply smiled.

"You know me," I said lightly. "I prefer to leave something to the imagination."

Her smile faltered for just a moment before snapping back into place. "Of course! That's so... you." She pressed the drink into my hands—something fruity and strong that burned on the way down. "Come on, let's celebrate! Your wedding is only weeks away!"

I remembered this night with perfect clarity. Rina would ply me with alcohol, encouraging me to "loosen up" while making subtle comments to others about what a prude I was. She'd paint me as the boring fiancée who couldn't keep her man satisfied, setting the stage for her own grand entrance into his bed.

But this time, I was ready for her game.

"You're right," I said, taking another sip of the cocktail. "I should celebrate."

For the next hour, I played my part perfectly. I drank what she gave me, laughed at her jokes, and pretended not to notice the way she kept glancing toward Marcus across the room. But I heard every whispered comment she made to the other pack members.

"She's so sweet, but honestly, can you imagine her keeping a man like Marcus interested?"

"I worry about her. She's just so... innocent. Some men need more fire, you know?"

"Marcus deserves someone who can match his passion."

Each comment was a knife between my ribs, designed to isolate me, to make the pack question whether I was worthy of their future Beta. In my first life, the alcohol had numbed me to the subtle cruelty. This time, stone-cold sober despite the drinks, I absorbed every word like evidence for the prosecution.

By ten o'clock, I was swaying convincingly, playing up the effects of alcohol I wasn't actually feeling. The bar had grown louder, more crowded, the air thick with smoke and sweat.

"I need some air," I mumbled, pressing a hand to my forehead.

Rina's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Of course, honey. You look a little green around the gills."

I stumbled toward the exit, hearing her stage-whisper to someone behind me: "Poor thing can't handle her liquor. I hope Marcus knows what he's getting into."

The cool night air hit my face as I pushed through the bar's heavy door, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The street was quieter here, lit by the soft glow of streetlamps and the nearly full moon overhead.

I took a few steps away from the entrance, then let my legs give out beneath me, just as they had three years ago. But this time, I wasn't surprised when strong arms caught me before I could hit the pavement.

The scent hit me first—storm-battered pine and raw dominance, so powerfully Alpha that it made my knees weak for entirely different reasons. I looked up into the face of my rescuer and felt my breath catch.

He was tall, easily six-foot-three, with dark hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it and sharp features that belonged on a magazine cover. But it was his eyes that held me captive—pale green like sea glass, ancient and knowing in a way that made me feel like he could see straight through to my soul.

"Easy there," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones. "I've got you."

For the first time since my rebirth, I felt something other than hatred and the burning need for revenge. Something warm and electric that started in my chest and spread outward like wildfire.

This was Lucien. It had to be.

And this time, I would not let him slip away.