Reborn Luna: Rejecting My Cruel Alpha

Seraphina Thorne POV:

The cold of the stone floor was the last thing I felt. It seeped through the thin fabric of my shift, a final, chilling embrace that promised an end to the pain. The air in the Blackwood dungeons was thick with the coppery tang of my own blood and the metallic bite of rust from the chains that bound my wrists.

My vision was blurring, but through the grated door, I could see them. Ryker Blackwood, my fated mate, my Alpha, was holding her. Lilith. His hands, the same hands that had once held me, were tangled in her honey-blonde hair. And on his neck, where my mark should have been, was a fresh, puckered bite mark. Hers. The final, irrevocable sign that our bond had been shattered and replaced.

Leo’s terrified scream echoed in my skull, followed by Nia’s. The sounds of our children, moments before the Rogues had torn through their room. The sound of tearing flesh.

A guard, Clara Mills, kicked my side, her boot connecting with my ribs with a dull thud. "Stop faking it," she sneered. "Your Alpha is no longer yours."

Deep within me, the last embers of my wolf, my silent companion I had barely ever felt, gave a final, mournful whimper and then… nothing. A part of my soul was extinguished. I was hollowed out.

With the last of my breath, I stared past the bars, past Ryker and his new Luna, and up at the sliver of moon visible through a high window. *Moon Goddess,* I prayed, a curse forming on my dying lips. *If I had just one more chance…*

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Then, a violent, suffocating pressure crushed my chest.

My eyes flew open. Icy water flooded my mouth and nose, burning a path down to my lungs. I was drowning. Panic seized me, raw and primal. Thrashing, my hand broke the surface before a strong grip clamped around my arm, hauling me from the water.

I landed on the muddy bank, coughing and retching, spitting out mouthfuls of freezing lake water. My whole body shuddered uncontrollably.

"Sera, are you okay? You nearly scared us to death."

That voice. That sickly sweet, deceptively concerned voice. I knew it better than my own heartbeat.

I lifted my head, my soaked hair plastering to my face. Standing over me, her doe-like brown eyes wide with feigned worry, was Lilith Vane. But she was younger. So much younger, without the hard lines of cruelty that would later etch themselves around her mouth.

My gaze darted around. There was Ryker, his jet-black hair perfect, his ice-blue eyes filled not with concern, but with a familiar, biting impatience. He looked seventeen again, lean and powerful, the future Alpha in all his arrogant glory. He was annoyed that my "accident" was interrupting the monthly Pack Run.

I looked down at my own hands. They were slender, pale, and free of the scars and calluses of a life of servitude. My arms