Reborn As The Alpha's True Luna

Hailey's POV:

In my previous life, I, Hailey Diaz, was once seen as a weak, wolfless omega, but my destined companion was Keaton Sexton, the strongest alpha of the Kuroki Moon wolf pack.

But at the patriarch's annual party, my stepsister Allegra Moreno and a rogue wolf named Freddy Holman set a deadly trap for me. They publicly tricked me into accepting a wooden box said to contain rare healing flowers, but beneath the box lay deadly wolf poison.

Allegra Moreno immediately "discovered" the poison, screaming that I had conspired with a thug to murder our wolf pack.

Keaton, angry, believed I had betrayed our sacred bond for another man, and threw me into the wolves' merciless judgment. I was stripped of my title, tortured, and ultimately executed.

Until the moment I died, I couldn't understand why my own family wanted me dead. Then, a blinding pain in my wrist snapped my eyes open.

I was back at the gala, fifteen years old again, standing right in front of a furious Keaton as he accused me of meeting the rogue.

This time, instead of fighting him and defending a snake, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist.

"I'm sorry, Keaton. I only belong to you."

Allegra's perfect smile froze. She had no idea that the weak sister she tried to frame, I, Hailey Diaz, had just returned from hell to seek revenge.

...

"Hailey, look at me."

The voice was a low growl, laced with ice. It sliced through the fog in my head just as a sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm.

My eyes snapped open to gold chandeliers dripping light from a vaulted ceiling. The air was thick with champagne and expensive perfume, men in sharp tuxedos and women in glittering gowns moving like figures in a dream.

This is Matriarch Seraphina Beaumont's annual gala.

Then my gaze fell on the hand clamped around my wrist. Long, tanned fingers, a grip like steel.

I followed the line of his arm, up a tailored black suit, to a face carved from fury.

Keaton Sexton. Alpha of the Blackwood Moon pack. My fated mate. The man I had destroyed in another life.

That wasn't a memory—it actually happened. I was back to when I was fifteen.

"Tell me you're not here to see that rogue." Keaton's voice was dangerously quiet, a storm barely contained. "Tell me you're not meeting Freddy Holman."

Freddy. The name sat on my tongue like poison.

In my previous life—tonight—I drove Keaton away, only to fall into a trap. In the end, my blood stained the forest floor, and my wolf fell silent forever.

Around us, guests pretended not to watch, their eyes darting over, hungry for scandal.

My stepsister Allegra Moreno She hovered nearby, a flicker of triumph in her wide, innocent eyes before she masked it with concern. She had planned all of this.

In my past life, I had screamed at him—fought with him, denied his claims, called him a possessive monster. I had defended Freddy’s honor. The honor of a snob.ke.

My wrist felt like it was about to snap, the pressure immense. But this time, I didn't pull away. I didn't fight.

I lifted my head and looked at him, letting him see the tidal wave of agony and regret crashing inside me. I saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes, the slight faltering of his rage.

He'd expected a fight, not this raw, soul-deep sorrow. His grip loosened, just for a fraction of a second. I twisted my hand free—not to flee, but to move.

Keaton's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as if to lunge, certain I was running to my supposed lover. I didn't take a step back. I took one forward, then sidestepped around his powerful frame until I was behind him.

Before he could react, before Allegra's smile could fully form, I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. I pressed my cheek against the hard muscle of his back, the expensive fabric of his suit rough on my skin. My entire body trembled.

Keaton froze—a statue of pure shock.

The whispers of the crowd dying into stunned silence. This was not in Allegra's script.

I could smell the faint, clean scent of his soap mixed with the powerful, earthy aroma that was uniquely his. Underneath his anger, I felt the steady thrumming power of his wolf.

But today, something was different about me, too. I could still smell the herbs I used to cover my scent, the bitter leaves I chewed to hide my wolfless state—but beneath them, a new fragrance was stirring. Faint, sweet, like a night-blooming flower under a new moon. A scent I'd never had before.

Allegra's face was a mask of disbelief, her perfect plan derailing.

My voice was a broken whisper, so quiet only he could possibly hear it. "I'm sorry, Keaton." Tears I hadn't known were there began to fall, soaking into his jacket. "I was wrong. I only belong to you."

The shock jolted through him. His wolf purred in his mind, a low, satisfied rumble I could almost feel against my cheek. But his human side, his rational mind, was reeling. He didn't push me away. He didn't move at all, caught between a wild, soaring hope and a deep, ingrained suspicion.

I felt the hard lines of his back begin to soften. My desperate first move had worked.

I tightened my hold, clinging to him and drawing in the warmth and safety I had thrown away so carelessly before. This was real. He was real. I had a second chance.

The whispers started again, but their tone had changed. The glee was gone, replaced by confusion and, from some of the women, a sharp pang of jealousy.

Allegra bit her lip, her knuckles white where she clenched her fists. Her carefully staged drama had just become a public declaration of my devotion to the Alpha.

Slowly, Keaton turned in my arms. He looked down at me, searching my face for the lie, the trick. He saw only my tears and the pure, unadulterated relief and devotion I felt—it confused him even more.

His voice was hoarse. "Hailey, what game are you playing?"

I shook my head, a fresh wave of tears blurring his face. "No games. Only the truth. I almost made the same mistake again—a mistake I can't afford to repeat."

His anger was gone. Fire had been replaced by a burning curiosity and a joy he was trying desperately to suppress. He raised one hand, his calloused thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek.

The simple, public gesture made Allegra's face twist into an ugly scowl.