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The surgical knife missed my heart by half an inch.

I lay on the cold operating table, listening to the steady beep of the monitor. "Why?" Dr. Wilson's voice trembled as he held my bloody chart. "Why did you try to kill yourself, Lena?"

I stared blankly at the ceiling. "Was there another choice?"

For eighteen years, I was the "wolfless freak." I was the punching bag for my family, the scapegoat for my adopted sister, Serena. When Alpha Aiden—the only man who ever loved me—fell into a coma, they blamed me. They said I was cursed.

They chained me to a silver chair. They whipped my back until I passed out. They watched Serena steal my credit, steal my parents' love, and even steal the man who promised to marry me.

"If I die," I had thought, holding the blade, "at least the pain stops."

Now, my parents rushed in, fake tears streaming down their faces. "Thank the Goddess you're alive! We were just trying to help you break the curse!" My mother cried. But then she leaned in close, whispering the words that finally killed my soul: "But Serena is the future Luna. You can't ruin her reputation with this suicide attempt. Keep your mouth shut."

I looked at them—the people who were supposed to protect me. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. My heart had finally turned to stone.

"Get out," I whispered.

Just then, the door burst open. A guard stood there, panting, eyes wide with terror.

"The Alpha... He's awake. And he's asking for the girl with the scar on her shoulder."

My mother's face went pale. Serena froze.

Because the girl with the scar isn't Serena. It's me.