Chapter 1 Chapter 1

This time, as the most gifted healer of my kind, I would save neither of them: not the Beta who framed me, nor the Alpha who carried an ancient curse. Just as before, Damien stormed into my healing chamber with Lyra in his arms, in an Alpha tone that left no room for argument. "She took a poisoned blade for me, one laced with an aphrodisiac. Use your power and heal her, now!" It wasn't a request. It was a command. He didn't spare me a single glance. This Alpha, who had once sworn to share his very soul with me, now had eyes for only one other she-wolf. Faced again with the one responsible for my death, my wolf howled in agony. The mate bond seared me with a pain like a blade twisting in my heart. Hatred and despair threatened to swallow me whole. Damien seemed to catch the fractured look in my eyes. His brow furrowed, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face. Just then, a heated moan escaped Lyra's lips. "Alpha… I'm so hot… The poison is burning in my blood…" Her body trembled, and sweat soaked the leather armor clinging to her, outlining the predatory curves of her body. That face, those amber eyes, hazy from the drug… she was a near-perfect copy of a younger me—a wilder, more untamed version. Damien's hesitation was crushed in an instant by a wave of concern and desire. He ignored me completely. Instead, he lowered his head, his fangs grazing the sensitive skin of Lyra's neck in a gesture of raw possession. Then, he swept her into his arms and strode directly to the center of the room. To my Moonspring. A sacred place that only a healer of my divine power could activate. Ignoring my will completely, he plunged Lyra into the sacred water, immersing her in its power. "Begin. Now." His Alpha command shot through our mate bond, an authority I could not defy. The spring hummed in protest, its energy turning frantic and chaotic. Through our bond, his frantic emotions burned like a brand, along with a raw possessiveness for her that he didn't even try to hide. In my last life, this was the moment my heart shattered. Yet, I had obediently exhausted my divine healing power to save her. I had forced myself to obey, enduring the humiliation as he let another woman siphon away my power. I had watched as he used his Alpha strength to subdue the spring, forcing my energy into her body while Lyra's moans shifted from pain to a shuddering chorus of pleasure that echoed through the chamber. Back then, I was nothing more than an obedient tool. But not this time. I would not hollow out my soul for a traitor. I suppressed my wolf's mournful cry and spoke, my voice chillingly calm. "My power serves my mate and my pack." I paused, letting the words hang in the air. "But it is not a tool to be commanded." With that, I ignored Damien completely and turned toward the moon-silver lockbox in the corner. From it, I took out a blank Mate Rejection Agreement.

Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Before I can go through with the rejection, I have to play my part as the Iron Fang's Luna. The next morning, I was in the herb room, calmly sorting my Moonglow Moss as usual. I felt Damien's frantic energy long before he appeared. The anger from my refusal last night still simmered beneath his skin. The dull ache of his curse was already seeping from his bones, making him restless and irritable. "Elara," he began, and was it my imagination, or was there a flicker of guilt in his voice? "About last night—" Before he could finish, Lyra appeared from behind him, barefoot. My breath caught in my throat. She was wearing the moon-white ceremonial robe—the one symbolizing the Luna's authority. The sacred garment I had worn on my coronation day. My wardrobe was filled with countless other clothes, but she had deliberately chosen this one. "Luna," she purred, her use of my title dripping with disrespect. "I'm so sorry. My leathers were torn to shreds last night, so I had to borrow something of yours. You don't mind, do you?" Her tone was pitiful, but her eyes glinted with triumph. I gave her a single, dismissive glance. "That robe suits you." Since I had already decided to sever all ties, anything connected to Damien was something I would discard. What was a mere piece of clothing? Seeing my lack of reaction, Lyra's expression stiffened. Damien, however, stepped closer. He gave me a look of magnanimous patience, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "Don't read too much into this. Nothing happened between us last night. We were just… healing." A bitter laugh threatened to escape me. I had to wonder what, exactly, this Alpha considered "happening." If the soft moans and panting I'd heard, and the raw lust I'd felt through our bond didn't count, then perhaps only the act of marking Lyra as his own would? The Alpha I once thought could hold up the sky was nothing but a hypocrite. Damien let out a breath, apparently relieved, and sat down. Lyra immediately slid into the seat next to him, a clear declaration of her new place. His hand, reaching for a teacup, paused for a fraction of a second, but he didn't ask her to move. I acted as if I saw nothing and sat across from them. Before we'd finished our tea, Damien spoke. "Since you'll be focusing on my recovery, you no longer need to manage the pack's medical affairs." His tone was casual, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He was handing over the pack's very lifeline to a warrior whose only skill was patching up scrapes. "I've decided to create the position of Chief Field Medic and appoint Lyra to it. The herb storehouses will be under her control from now on." In my past life, his words would have made me flip the table. This time, I just nodded. "Fine." He seemed pleased with my compliance. After the meal, Damien said he had work to attend to and drove Lyra to the command center. Previously, moments like these would have stung; I was his Luna, the one who was supposed to be by his side. But now, there was nothing left for him in my heart but ash. How could I hold out hope for a man who had already led me to my death once? I went to the archives alone. Using moon-glow ink, I signed my name on the Mate Rejection Agreement I had prepared. When I took the document to Damien's office and pushed open the door, I froze. Damien was lying with his head in Lyra's lap while she gently massaged his temples with her slender fingers. They both looked utterly content. The gesture was painfully familiar. It was how I always soothed him when the first signs of the curse appeared. Now, she was mimicking my every move, invading the last private space Damien and I had left. And Damien… he was letting her, sinking into her touch as if it were his right. So this was how they "worked together." They both started when they saw me enter. In the next second, Lyra scrambled to her feet, her cheeks flushed. "Luna! Don't get the wrong idea! The Alpha had a headache, I was just trying to help…" She stammered out an explanation, but a flash of victory shone in her eyes. Damien slowly opened his, adjusted his collar, and fixed his icy gaze on me. "This is the Alpha's command center, not your healing chamber. You don't enter without requesting permission."

Chapter 3 Chapter 3

His words stopped me in my tracks. When we had first become mates, Damien had made me a promise under the moonlight. He'd said his mind-link was open only to me, that I was the only one who could truly understand his pain. Whenever I missed him, I could feel his heartbeat through our bond. I never thought that after only five years, he would so casually toss that promise aside for someone else, shutting me out like a complete stranger. The thought still brought a pang of sadness. I swallowed the retort that rose to my lips; there was no point in saying anything now. I took a step back. "I'm sorry," I said faintly. "It won't happen again." After all, if things went as planned, this would be the last time in my life I ever set foot in the Alpha's command center. The cold metal door clicked shut behind me. Every step I took away from Damien's office felt like walking on the ashes of my past. My fingers unconsciously drifted to my collarbone. I had once reserved this spot for him. During the year our love was at its peak, I had wanted to get a tattoo there—a wolf's fang to represent his strength. But he had smiled and refused. He'd held me tight, his chin resting on my head, his voice so gentle it could melt stone. "No, Elara," he'd said. "Let me be the one to bear the pain. I will give you my heart, whole and complete. I will have a sun, your symbol, tattooed over my chest. I want every god and demon to know that I, Damien, belong only to Elara." Every word he spoke then was seared into my soul. Now, the memory was nothing but a bitter irony. What I didn't expect came a few days later. As I was passing the training grounds, I saw Damien, shirtless, his bronze skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat as he joked with Lyra and the other warriors. The sunlight caught the powerful lines of his body. He laughed and turned to grab a waterskin. And in that instant, my heart stopped. The spot on his chest that should have been mine—the one that bore the sun tattoo symbolizing my healing power… was gone. No, not gone. It had been desecrated. The symbolism was a blade to my heart. My sun, the symbol of my healing light, had been desecrated—pierced by the image of a dagger I recognized as Lyra's favorite weapon, with glistening drops of blood etched onto its blade. The moonvines that had once entwined the sun, symbolizing life and connection, had been transformed into black, withered thorns. He wasn't just replacing me; he was erasing me. It was his cruelest declaration yet, a public announcement of who he had chosen, and who he had cast aside. Lyra seemed to notice me watching. As if to flaunt her victory, she reached out and traced the new, brutal tattoo on Damien's chest with a slender finger. She shot me a provocative look, the corner of her mouth curling into a triumphant smirk. The pack members around them fell silent. The thunderous roars of the training ground died away. Everyone knew what the old tattoo had meant, and everyone understood what it meant now. I stood frozen, a chill seeping deep into my bones. I suddenly remembered a time in my last life when I had jokingly suggested adding a little cloud next to his sun tattoo to make it cuter. Damien's face had darkened immediately. "This symbol is sacred to an Alpha," he had told me sternly. "It cannot be altered in any way, not even slightly." It turned out the symbol wasn't too sacred to be changed. It was just that I, Elara, didn't even have the right to add a single stroke. But Lyra could take a dagger and carve my existence from his heart, claiming the space for herself.

Chapter 4 Chapter 4

There was nothing left in my heart to break. Every word from Damien was just poison seeping into the ashes of what we once were. I looked at him and spoke calmly. "It's your temple, Damien. You're free to let anyone you want live inside." He stared, stunned. He probably expected me to cry, to scream, to beg for his pity like I used to. He got none of it. I simply turned and left the suffocating command center, leaving the signed rejection agreement on his desk and his look of utter shock behind the closed door. Damien's composure shattered far sooner than I expected. The next day, on the training grounds, a scream tore through the din. Lyra had fallen during a combat drill, an arrowhead having grazed her arm. For a Beta warrior raised on the battlefield, it was a trivial scratch. But the moment her cry reached his ears, Damien was a blur of motion, a gale-force wind descending from the top of the Alpha's watchtower. He abandoned a high-level strategy meeting—one that would determine the pack's next five years—in a heartbeat. Before the stunned eyes of all the elders and commanders, he swept a weakly groaning Lyra into his arms and shot like a black bolt of lightning toward my healing chamber. "Elara!" He kicked the door open, roaring my name. I had just finished a twelve-hour energy channeling, stabilizing the lives of three warriors who had been mauled by a dire bear on patrol. My healing power was nearly depleted, and my face was as pale as paper. I hadn't even had a sip of water. "Heal her!" he snarled, placing Lyra on my healing table. His eyes were fixed on the shallow cut on Lyra's arm, completely blind to my near-total exhaustion. Before I could speak, Gideon, one of the pack's Gamma warriors, stepped in front of me. "Alpha, the Luna needs rest! She's already pushed herself to her limit!" he pleaded. "Beta Lyra's wound is minor. It just needs a simple bandage!" Gideon's younger brother was one of the warriors I had just saved. Damien's gaze turned to ice. "Move." Just then, Lyra pushed herself up slightly on the table, clutching her bandaged arm with a look of pure innocence. "Alpha, please don't trouble the Luna," she said softly, though her eyes shot me a triumphant glance. "It was my own fault... a small scratch like this doesn't require her attention." Her words only fueled Damien's protectiveness. At that moment, Pack Elder Kael entered, his expression grim. "Alpha Damien," he began, but then his voice hardened as he made the announcement. "By order of the Alpha, from this day forward, Lyra will assume the newly created position of Chief Field Medic, with full authority over the herb storehouses and all medical affairs!" The declaration dropped into the room like a boulder into a still pond. The entire room erupted in chaos. My mind link was flooded with the panicked cries of my pack. "What? A warrior in charge of the herbs?""What about the Alpha's curse on the full moon?""What can Lyra do? Wrap a bandage around his head?" Amid the turmoil, one voice, old but strong, rose above the rest. It was Borin, an old warrior whose shattered spirit I had once mended. He pointed his one remaining arm at Lyra and roared at Damien. "A warrior who can't tell the difference between wolfsbane and moonpetal has no right to set foot in the Luna's sacred domain, let alone control it!" His gaze swung to Lyra, filled with contempt. "Can you mend a torn soul? Can you quell the flames of a curse?" Finally, he stared directly at Damien, his voice trembling with rage. "Alpha, you're not just gambling with the pack's safety—you're gambling with your own life!"

Chapter 5 Chapter 5

Borin's enraged roar still echoed through the storehouse. Damien's face was a mask of cold fury. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the onlookers with an Alpha command. "Get out! All of you!" Then, his icy gaze fixed on me, sharp as a blade. "Elara. My office. Now." His voice was devoid of all warmth. When I entered his office, Damien had his back to me. His fist slammed against the floor-to-ceiling window with a dull thud. "You're proud of yourself, aren't you?" He spun around, the fury in his eyes threatening to consume me. "Turning some washed-up old veteran against me? Is that your new game?" I met his gaze calmly. "I did nothing, Damien. I was simply taking inventory of the herbs.""Nothing?" He sneered, stalking closer. "Your very existence is a provocation!" Just then, the office door was thrown open. Lyra burst in, sobbing, her eyes red as she rushed straight to Damien. "Damien, please, don't be hard on the Luna because of me…" she choked out, clinging to his arm. "I don't want the position! I can't be the reason for a rift between you and her!" Her performance was flawless. Every word was designed to sound like a plea on my behalf, yet each one drove another wedge between me and Damien. "This has nothing to do with you." Damien's voice softened slightly as he patted her back. Lyra made a show of wiping her tears, but her arm swung out, as if by accident. Crash. The sound was sharp and final. My heart clenched. The Moonglow Moss I had spent three months nurturing—a salve made with a hundred rare ingredients—was smashed on the floor. Green moss and shattered glass mixed on the ground. It was the only thing that could suppress the volatile rage of his curse. Now, it was nothing more than a filthy smear on the floor. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Lyra cried out, but a flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes. Damien didn't even glance at the shattered remains. All his attention was on Lyra. "Stop crying," he soothed, his voice thick with concern. I stared at the ruin of my work, and the last ripple of emotion in my heart went still. Everything I had given was worthless in his eyes. "You will attend Lyra's ascension ceremony." Damien's gaze finally returned to me, cold and absolute. "In front of the entire pack, you will hand the Healer's Grimoire to her yourself." He wanted to humiliate me publicly. He wanted everyone to watch as I, Elara, the divinely gifted healer, handed my legacy over to a replacement. I said nothing. My silence seemed to infuriate him. He thought I was trying to bargain. "Just agree," he pressed, dangling what he thought was an irresistible lure, "and the Redstone Hunting Grounds to the west of the territory will be yours. Personally. It holds the richest prey, a prize every warrior covets." I finally laughed. Using pack assets to bribe the pack's own Luna. How generous. "Fine." I looked at him, my voice clear and cold, each word deliberate. "I accept." Damien froze, clearly not expecting me to yield so easily. I pulled the folded document from my pocket and unfolded it on the desk before him. "But I have one condition." My gaze met his, devoid of all emotion. "Right now. On this document. You will place your mark. With your blood." My tone pushed him over the edge. He snatched the document from the desk. "As you wish!" Without even glancing at the words, Damien bit his fingertip and slammed his bloody mark onto the signature line. Just for an instant, his brow furrowed. He let out a guttural grunt, his body swaying as the color drained from his face. The same searing pain threatened to black out my vision, but I forced it down. I didn't even let my fingertips tremble. It was the backlash from severing the mate bond. Blaming me for the sudden backlash of pain, Damien furiously threw the document at me. "Now," he snarled, "you can get out." I bent down and picked up the Mate Rejection Agreement. His fresh blood stained the signature line. The paper was light, but it held the weight of my freedom across two lifetimes. I smoothed out the creases, folded it carefully, and tucked it away. Then, without a backward glance, I walked out of his office.