Olivia
Two days before the wedding.
I should have been preparing for my mating ceremony, basking in the final moments of my life as an unbound she-wolf before stepping into my role as Luna. Instead, I found myself staring at the angry red burn on my palm, the skin raw and unhealed, throbbing painfully.
It made no sense. Werewolves healed quickly, even from burns. But this wound refused to mend.
Was it because of my death in the past?
I had burned alive that night. The flames had consumed me, devoured me whole, until all that remained was ash. My last memory had been the searing agony, the suffocating heat, the betrayal in the eyes of my pack as they set the whole land ablaze.
Now, even a simple burn refused to heal.
I clenched my teeth as the nurse applied ointment over the wound, the sting barely a fraction of what I had endured before.
“You’re lucky it’s not deeper,” she murmured, wrapping my hand carefully.
After the treatment, I stepped out into the hospital hallway, flexing my fingers experimentally. The bandages were tight but necessary, concealing the one weakness my body now carried.
Then I saw them.
Sean. Isabelle. Standing in front of the hospital’s OB-GYN department.
Sean’s arm was lightly resting on Isabelle’s back, his body positioned slightly in front of hers, protective—instinctive. The moment they saw me, they stiffened.
Sean’s expression darkened as he stepped forward, blocking Isabelle from view, his eyes flickering with something close to panic.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp, defensive.
I raised my bandaged hand, tilting my head with a smirk. “Got burned.” Then I glanced at the bold silver letters above the door behind him. “What about you, Alpha? Did you burn something too?”
His jaw clenched.
Isabelle shrank back, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. Her face was pale, lips pressed together tightly.
Sean forced a chuckle, but it was strained. “Isabelle was feeling unwell after that night in the rain. I brought her here to get checked.”
“Ah,” I said, dragging out the sound as I crossed my arms. “At the OB-GYN?”
They froze.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Sean’s eyes flickered with irritation, while Isabelle’s lips parted slightly, as if struggling to find the right words.
Then Sean recovered. “Just making sure she’s safe all over. It’s no big deal.”
No big deal.
I watched them for a second longer before I let out a small, amused chuckle. “Right. No big deal at all.”
Without another word, I walked past them, ignoring the heat of their stares boring into my back.
That night, dinner at the packhouse was quiet, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.
I had prepared everything myself—setting the plates, arranging the meals, and most importantly, pouring everyone a glass of freshly squeezed juice. My fingers tingled as I set down Isabelle’s glass in front of her.
“Drink up,” I said with a pleasant smile.
Isabelle hesitated, glancing at me warily, but Sean nodded at her reassuringly.
I took my own glass and sipped. One by one, the others followed. For a few minutes, everything seemed normal. Then suddenly—
Isabelle gasped.
Her body trembled violently, her fingers gripping the table as she let out a choked whimper. A deep flush spread across her cheeks, her breathing becoming uneven.
“Sean…” she whimpered, turning to him desperately.
Sean’s chair scraped against the floor as he immediately stood, catching her before she could collapse. “Isabelle?” His voice was laced with concern.
She clung to him, pressing her burning body against his chest, her fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt. “I—I feel hot… I can’t—”
Sean’s eyes snapped to me, golden fury igniting in his gaze.
“You,” he snarled, his voice thick with accusation. “What did you do?”
I blinked at him. “Whatever do you mean?”
He bared his teeth. “You drugged her drink.”
I scoffed. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you did it before!” Sean roared. “After the Full Moon Festival—you drugged me!”
The accusation hit me harder than expected, but I didn’t let it show.
I remembered that night well. The drunken haze, the way we had woken up in the same bed, our parents storming in. Sean had hated me for it, blamed me for forcing him into this engagement. But I knew the truth. I hadn’t drugged him. He had been drunk on his own poor choices.
I lifted my chin, my voice even. “I didn’t touch her drink, Sean.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t believe me.
Not that it mattered.
He carried Isabelle away, up the stairs and into his bedroom, leaving the dining hall heavy with tension.
The next morning, Sean approached me, his face stony.
“It was a mistake,” he said flatly.
I arched a brow. “Oh?”
“She’s fine now,” he continued. “It wasn’t anything serious.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said dryly.
Beside him, Isabelle stepped forward hesitantly, her expression remorseful. “Olivia, I just… I wanted to apologize.”
I tilted my head, watching her carefully.
“As a token of my sincerity,” she continued, “I fixed your moonstone bracelet.”
The air in the room shifted.
My pulse slowed. She held out the bracelet, the one that had been shattered into pieces, the one that had meant everything to me.
But the moment I looked closer, I saw it.
The moonstone wasn’t the same. The fragments of my mother’s bracelet—the ones I had carefully gathered, the ones I had held onto with aching fingers—were gone. Replaced.
“You what?” My voice was calm, too calm.
Isabelle’s smile faltered. “I—I discarded the broken ones and found a new moonstone to replace them.”
My mind went blank.
She threw them away. The last thing I had of my mother. The last connection.
Gone.
Before I even realized it, my palm connected with her cheek. The slap echoed through the room.
Isabelle gasped, stumbling back, her hand flying to her face, eyes wide with shock.
“How dare you,” I breathed, my chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. “You had no right.”
Sean immediately stepped between us, his eyes blazing. “Olivia!”
