His Defiant Luna: The Alpha Prince's Secret Healer

Florence POV:

My head felt like it was splitting open. A sharp, hammering pain pulsed behind my eyes, synchronized with the thumping bass of the music.

Muffled voices buzzed around me, a swarm of insects I couldn't swat away.

I forced my eyelids open. The crystal chandelier above shattered into a thousand dazzling fragments of light. Smirking faces slowly came into focus, their eyes filled with undisguised mockery. A girl in a lavish pink gown stood over me, her blonde hair glowing like a perfect halo as she looked down with cold arrogance.

"Florence, stop playing dead!" she snapped, her voice sharp and triumphant. "It's your engagement day to Prince Alaric. Even for a wolfless like you, it's an honor to take my place."

A torrent of memories surged into my mind—my own, from a life before this one, flooding back all at once.

I was Florence Sharpe. A "wolfless" who had never awakened her wolf, I had been treated as a disgrace and an outcast within my own family. My stepsister, Clara—the blonde girl standing in front of me—had poisoned me out of jealousy and left my face scarred beyond recognition. And now, they were forcing me to take Clara's place and fulfill the engagement with the prince.

A tall man with contempt in his eyes scowled down at me. Prince Alaric.

"Lady Barb," he said coldly, his voice filled with disdain, "is this really the best you could find? She's a complete disgrace. Get her up before she makes a fool of herself and humiliates us all."

Clara looped her arm through Alaric's, her voice turning sickly sweet. "Alaric, don't be angry. My sister is just... not used to these grand occasions." Her eyes, however, danced with pure, venomous joy.

I pushed myself up, my hand gripping the edge of a table for support. The biological toxin still lingered in my system, a familiar, low-grade poison.

In my past life, I had been a bio-engineer from a future far beyond this world—and with that knowledge now awake in me, neutralizing it would be simple.

But first, I needed to collect some interest.

Whispers slithered through the crowd. "Look at the scar on her face, how hideous." "A wolfless dares to marry the prince?" "The shame of the Sharpe family."

The noise was like flies buzzing over a corpse.

Seeing me stand, Clara assumed I had submitted. A victorious smile spread across her face as she reached out to "help" me. "Come, sister. It's time to complete the ceremony before the Elders."

The moment her fingers brushed my arm, I moved.

My hand shot out, clamping around her wrist like a steel trap. Her smile froze.

Crack.

The sound was crisp and clear. A sharp slap echoed through the suddenly silent hall.

Everyone stared, their mouths agape.

Clara clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You... you hit me?" she shrieked.

A cold smile touched my lips. I slapped her again, harder this time. "Hit you? I'm going to kill you."

I didn't stop. Left, right, my hands became a blur, each slap a repayment for the pain and humiliation this body had endured. I struck her thirty times, until her face was a swollen, purple mess and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"You lunatic! Stop!" Prince Alaric roared, finally breaking from his shock and charging toward me.

I let go of the whimpering Clara and snatched a heavy crystal vase from a nearby table.

He didn't slow down, not expecting any real resistance.

I didn't hesitate.

The vase shattered against his skull with a sickening crunch. Blood streamed down his forehead, mingling with the water and flower petals.

He staggered back, his hand flying to his head, his anger replaced by a flicker of fear.

I walked to the center of the hall, my gaze sweeping over the stunned guests. My voice was clear and cold. "I, Florence Sharpe, hereby formally dissolve my engagement to Prince Alaric. Anyone who wants this piece of trash is welcome to him."

I then walked to the sniveling heap that was Clara and plucked a long, sharp silver pin from her elaborate hairstyle.

The Royal Guards finally drew their swords, forming a hesitant circle around me.

I ignored them.

I walked directly to the dazed Prince Alaric.

As he tried to scramble away, I moved like lightning, pressing the sharp point of the hairpin against his throat.

The cold metal froze him in place. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the pin.

"If you want your prince to live," I said calmly to the guards, "you will all back away."

They exchanged nervous glances, their swords wavering. Slowly, they retreated.

I kept the pin pressed against Alaric's skin, dragging him backward with me toward the grand entrance. My eyes found my stepmother, Barb Foreman, in the crowd. Her face was a mask of pure hatred.

I pricked Alaric's neck, drawing a thin line of blood. "Get me the fastest carriage," I whispered in his ear. "Now."

He nodded, his body trembling, and croaked the order to his men.

The heavy doors swung open behind me, revealing the deep, endless night.