The Sickly Alpha's Substitute Bride: His Unholy Obsession

ALETA POV

Pain.

A splitting headache ripped me back to consciousness. I gasped, my eyes flying open.

The familiar scent of fresh-cut grass and the lilies on my windowsill hit me instantly. I was in my old room at the Hebert Pack.

I sat up, my heart pounding. I looked down at my hands—smooth, unscarred, untouched by years of thankless labor and a loveless marriage.

I threw off the covers and rushed to the vanity mirror. The face staring back at me was my fifteen-year-old self.

A glance at the calendar pinned to the wall confirmed the impossible. Today was the day before the Festival of First Bloom—the exact day Jamel Faulkner was supposed to visit our pack for the first time.

I was reborn.

I had returned to the turning point of my destiny, five years in the past. The betrayal, the bone-deep cold of the ocean, the venomous truth of the contraceptives—it was all still vividly real, a phantom chill clinging to my soul.

I stood before the mirror for a long time, until a soft knock came at the door. It was Flora, my maid, reminding me it was time to prepare for the morning ceremony of the Festival of First Bloom.

"Come in," I said, my voice even.

I allowed her to dress me, my mind a placid lake. Flora was my mother's person, loyal to a fault. In my last life, she had been implicated in my troubles and eventually driven from the castle by Justine.

This life, I would protect everyone who had been kind to me.

Flora brought out the pale green dress I had worn in my past life. The dress I had chosen to please Jamel, the dress that had made me feel like a washed-out version of my vibrant stepsister. Looking at it now, I only felt a bitter amusement.

"Not that one," I said quietly. "The dark blue one."

Flora hesitated for a moment, surprised, but then nodded and fetched the other gown. It was a simpler style, the deep color making me look older, more reserved. More like myself.

I met Justine in the hallway. She was a vision in a dazzling white gown, a perfect, innocent white lily.

"Aleta, you look...different today," she said, her smile practiced. But her blue eyes held a flicker of sharp assessment, a probing look that did not belong on the face of a fifteen-year-old.

My heart gave a hard thump against my ribs.

That look. It was the same calculating expression I'd seen on her face countless times in my previous life, right before she ruined someone.

A horrifying thought struck me, cold and sharp.

Could she be reborn, too?

"Do I?" I lowered my gaze, feigning shyness. I twisted a fold of my skirt between my fingers, a nervous habit I'd had back then. "I suppose I'm a little nervous. Seeing Alpha Jamel and all."

At the mention of Jamel's name, Justine's smile tightened for a fraction of a second. A flash of jealousy and contempt, so quick it was almost invisible, crossed her features.

But I saw it.

And in that moment, I knew. She was back, too. She carried the memories of our past life, just as I did.

"Yes, Alpha Jamel will be there. I'm so happy for you, sister," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She linked her arm through mine, as if we were the dearest of friends.

A wave of nausea rolled through me, but I didn't pull away. The game was just beginning. I needed to be patient.

We walked toward the ceremonial lawn together. Justine chattered endlessly about the eligible young men from the various Packs, but her words kept circling back to Jamel, how exceptional he was, what an honor it would be to be his mate.

I listened quietly, offering a soft murmur of agreement here and there, playing the part of the naive younger sister, star-struck and full of dreams.

The lawn was already crowded. I saw my father, Alpha Gilford of the Hebert Pack, speaking with a few of his elders, his expression stern. My mother, Evelyn, stood a short distance away, alone. Her simple dress made her seem out of place among the other lavishly dressed ladies.

A pang of pain shot through my chest. I quickened my pace, leaving Justine behind, and wrapped my arms around my mother from behind.

She started, then turned, her face softening into a gentle smile when she saw it was me. "Aleta, my sweet girl."

"Mother," I murmured, burying my face in her shoulder, breathing in her familiar, comforting scent. This was the warmth I had missed most of all. After my death, she was the one I couldn't bear to leave.

Justine glided over, chirping, "Mother Evelyn," but my mother only gave her a cool, polite nod.

I saw the flicker of resentment in Justine's eyes again. I knew she envied me. Her own mother had been nothing more than a mistress, long dead and forgotten, while I had all of Evelyn's love.

The ceremonial horns sounded. All the unmated young wolves gathered in the center of the lawn, awaiting the elders' blessing for the festival.

My eyes scanned the crowd. It didn't take long to find him.

Jamel Faulkner. He stood tall and proud in his Faulkner Pack uniform, the focus of every young woman's attention.

I could feel Justine practically vibrating with excitement beside me. She even smoothed her hair, a small, hopeful gesture.

My own heart was a stone in my chest. No fluttering, no longing. This was the man I had loved enough to die for? Looking at him now, he seemed...ordinary.

His gaze swept over the crowd of young women. When his eyes met mine, he gave a polite, distant nod. Then his gaze slid to Justine, and lingered.

I saw the look of absolute certainty on Justine's face.