Chapter 1

On the anniversary of my daughter’s passing, my mate, Alpha Owen of the Silver Moon Pack, decided to mark his first love’s severance from her mate bond with a fireworks display.

I didn’t stop him.

In my previous life, I tried using his responsibilities as a father to dissuade him, but it only led to half-hearted compromises. His first love, Regina, a rogue werewolf, waited for him, only to meet with despair and eventually take her own life. Owen blamed me entirely. He took our daughter Rachel’s remains to the northern territories, leaving them to the wild wolves, and kept me trapped within the pack’s borders, forcing pregnancies that ended in miscarriages. He tormented me for years, bitterly saying, “Regina left this world with her purity tainted because of you! A malicious Luna like you deserves nothing but torment!”

Consumed by despair, I died and awoke again, at Rachel’s funeral.

The mournful sound of the pack’s ceremonial howls had just begun when a burst of fireworks painted the sky, drowning out the solemn ceremony.

“Who dares set off fireworks on this day? Can’t they see the pack is grieving?” Royalty Thomas, one of our Delta warriors, exclaimed, her voice sharp with indignation. She stepped forward, ready to speak for me.

I shook my head, stopping her with a measured calm. “Let it go, Royalty Thomas.”

It would be too painful to reveal that the one celebrating with fireworks was the Alpha, the father of the pup in the photograph. Just three years old, lifelessly laid out in a small coffin, and her father was celebrating his first love’s newfound freedom. The cruelty of the situation was beyond words.

I remembered the previous life, the warmth leaving Rachel’s body in my arms, her final words echoing, “Mommy, why won’t Daddy come back?”

Owen not only ignored her last wish, but in his hatred for me, desecrated her remains. This time, I refuse to let my daughter suffer such a bitter fate because of me.

The more I remembered, the more grief consumed me. I wiped away the tears and continued with the funeral arrangements for the day.

It was late when I returned to the pack house, and Owen arrived even later. Seeing me sitting there, his face darkened, and he scowled with annoyance. “What’s got you upset now, Luna? Why the long face?”

I stared at him, bewildered. It was absurd to be expected to smile when our pup had just been buried. He was probably still basking in Regina’s severance from her mate bond, perhaps even forgetting today was Rachel’s funeral. I closed my eyes in silence, refusing to respond.

He clicked his tongue, his irritation palpable. “Oh, about the follow-up funeral arrangements, you take care of those. I’m too busy to attend.”

I lifted my gaze to meet his, feeling a profound sadness. Was Regina really that important?

In my past life, I had often wanted to ask him that question, but it always turned to “never mind” at the last moment. Deep down, I already knew the answer.

Feeling my gaze on him, Owen’s eyes shifted, and he began to explain uneasily, “There’s a critical negotiation with the neighboring pack. I can’t just leave.”

With the Moon Festival approaching, the pack’s activities had already slowed for the break. What critical negotiation could possibly exist? I forced myself to play along, nodding as if I believed him. “It’s okay, Alpha. I can handle it.”

He hadn’t expected me to accept his excuse so readily. A glint of satisfaction crossed his eyes, and he uncharacteristically pulled me into an embrace, whispering softly, “My Luna, you’re the perfect mate. When I return, I’ll make it up to you.”

Emotionlessly, I pulled away from him, but he only drew closer, planting a kiss on my cheek and murmuring, “Don’t beat yourself up over Rachel’s passing. Don’t be too sad.”

“We’ll have more pups. When I get back, we’ll start trying again, okay?”

As memories flooded back, I recalled when I was first pregnant with Rachel. He had held my belly tenderly, whispering with reverence, “This is the fruit of our bond, and I promise to cherish our pup.”

Now he could speak, with such nonchalance, about simply having another pup. His eyes bore no grief for Rachel’s death.

When Rachel first died, I sought his arms, desperately yearning for comfort and care. But he had pushed me away, coldly declaring such a minor matter didn’t deserve such fuss.

Now, his words might have been gentle, but they pierced me like sharp claws, leaving my heart in pain. His tone was the one I longed for, yet each word felt like a dagger in my chest.

This time, it was I who pushed him away. I said coolly, “I’m tired, Alpha.”

He hesitated, his expression flickering with something I couldn’t place—guilt, perhaps, or just irritation. Then he nodded curtly and walked away, leaving me alone in the silence of our den. My wolf stirred faintly in the back of my mind, a low whimper of pain echoing my own. But I pushed her down, refusing to let even her see the depth of my sorrow.