ALEAH GREGORY POV:
My consciousness drifted in a black, silent void. There was no pain, no sorrow. Only a profound peace I had never known in life.
But a violent, piercing coldness ripped through the tranquility, yanking my awareness back from the abyss.
The source was my heart. Something sharp and frigid was pressing against my chest, its chill seeping through the thin fabric of my hospital gown, a cold that made my very soul scream.
Silver.
The recognition was instantaneous. The one substance fatal to our kind, a metal that burned the spirit itself.
I forced my "eyes" open, but I wasn't in my body. I was floating above it, a disembodied observer.
I saw my son. Ryder.
His small frame stood over my lifeless body. In his hands, he gripped a small, ornate silver dagger, its point aimed directly at my heart.
His face held no childish innocence. Only a cold, grim focus that was terrifyingly out of place on a five-year-old. He was pushing, trying to drive the blade into my chest.
"Why won't you just die properly?" he muttered through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his brow. "You useless Omega. You're nothing but an embarrassment to the Conley name."
My soul shrieked, a silent, tearing sound. I watched as the child I had birthed tried to ensure my utter annihilation.
He wanted to destroy my wolf soul. In the werewolf world, it was the deepest curse, ensuring no peace in the afterlife.
The tip of the dagger finally broke the skin. The burn of silver was hellfire, igniting my spirit in a blaze of agony.
Through the pain, I saw the family crest engraved on the hilt. It was the fifth birthday present Cassius had given him.
The irony was a bitter poison. My husband and my son, working in concert to deliver my final destruction.
The instant the silver touched my heart, a massive, irresistible force pulled at me from behind, as if time itself had been torn open.
The scene around me twisted, rewinding. The nurse's gasp, the children's cold smiles, Cassius's dismissive words... everything flew backward like a shattered film.
My consciousness was sucked into a vortex of color and light, the roar of collapsing years screaming in my ears.
Then, silence.
I took a sharp, sudden breath. The air filled my lungs, clean and cool, without a trace of the familiar, tearing pain.
I opened my eyes.
The ornate ceiling of the master bedroom greeted me, but the light was brighter, the air fresher.
I looked down at my hands. They were young, healthy, the skin smooth and unblemished. I touched my face; it was firm, elastic.
This was not my body. Not the one ravaged by sickness.
A small noise made me turn my head, my neck stiff. Two small figures were on the floor, dressed in pajamas, playing with building blocks.
Ryder and Blair. My eyes darted around the room, landing on the digital calendar on the wall. I was reborn.
I had returned to the time when my twins were only five years old, before the tragedy had reached its crescendo.
I stared at the two children, laughing and playing. Their innocent faces now looked like masks on tiny demons.
I would not love them again. I would not sacrifice another second of my life for the Conley family.
The pain of my past life, the cold of that silver dagger, had killed everything. The love for my children, the lingering attachment to Cassius, the rotten bond that had chained me to them. It was all severed.
I pushed myself up in bed, a forgotten sense of strength flowing through my limbs.
This time, I would live for myself.
Ryder and Blair seemed to sense my gaze. They stopped playing and looked over at me. Ryder's face broke into that familiar, cloying smile he always used when he was about to ask for something.
But the moment his eyes met mine, the smile froze on his lips.
