Chapter 7

Elena

The next morning, I made my way downstairs, my body aching from a night spent tossing and turning in a cold bed. Even now, with a warm sweater and pants on, I couldn’t help but shiver. A cold fog had rolled in at some point during the night, and the landscape was still blanketed in it—so thick I could hardly see beyond the gardens out front.

“The house is freezing,” I said by way of greeting as I entered the dining room to find Killian already sitting there. “You should light a fire for once.”

Killian didn’t answer, just watched me as I poured a cup of coffee and piled my plate high with buttery toast, crispy bacon, glistening sausages, and even extra pastries and fruit.

In my past life, I wouldn’t have dared to eat this much food in one sitting. I always watched my figure, fearing that if I gained weight, Killian wouldn’t love me. Natalie had always been tall and slender in that perfect, effortless sort of way, and I thought that if I looked more like her, Killian would finally love me as much as he loved her.

But now, I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted to be healthy and strong so that when I did finally escape, I wouldn’t be easily overpowered.

I took a big bite of sausage and looked up to see Killian still staring at me. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and his face looked sunken as if he hadn’t slept last night.

Good. Maybe it was about time he spent the night sleepless rather than the other way around.

“Did you have good dreams last night?” he suddenly asked.

I paused, my cheeks full of sausage and bacon, confused. What an odd question to ask. I took my time chewing and swallowing, in no hurry to answer him, then said, “What sort of a question is that? My dreams are my private business.”

Killian’s face shifted, clearly surprised that I hadn’t told him right away. Maybe the old version of me would have told him whatever he wanted without hesitation, always willing to serve for the sake of finally being good enough for him.

But not now. I was tired of tiptoeing around him, acting like his little thrall just so I could die by his hand in the end.

Finally, he just nodded toward the mountain of food on my plate and said, “I take it your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I blinked, somewhat surprised that he had remembered me saying that I had a stomachache. It was just something I had said quickly last night as an excuse for the real reason why Lucas was in my room, and Killian never really seemed to care about my health before, so I assumed he would have forgotten by now.

I quickly composed myself and shrugged, stuffing a big bite of my beignet into my mouth. The powdered sugar instantly coated my tongue and filled me with a little more vigor.

“Much better,” I said with my mouth full, not caring if my lack of manners bothered him.

Killian looked at me for a moment then said, “Well, eat up. You should take care of your health. The election is about to begin, and I need you to attend some events with me.”

Ah, so there it was. He only seemed to “care” about my health because if his obedient little slave—I mean, wife—wasn’t in tip-top shape, then he wouldn’t win the election.

Selfish as always. In the last life and this one.

Suddenly, I almost wished I hadn’t eaten at all, if only to spite him. Maybe if I passed out on stage in front of everyone, it would ruin his chances of winning the election and I’d finally get some revenge.

But I didn’t do that, and just refocused my energy on my goals: I had to break our mate bond and leave the pack. With the election approaching, he wouldn’t let me go, but I would find a way eventually.

For now, though, I had other things to worry about. If the events of my past life would be similar in this one, then that meant that Natalie would return soon, and would bring all kinds of false accusations against me along with her.

I needed to get ahead of it. I needed to investigate her death and uncover the truth before she returned, so that if anyone tried to accuse me of having her killed, I would have tangible proof that it hadn’t been me.

Frankly, I suspected she had staged the entire incident herself. I didn’t think she had died at all.

Shortly after, Killian left to attend to his Alpha duties, leaving me to my own devices. I quickly finished my breakfast and mind linked Lucas again. “I’m ready.”

A moment later: “I’ll be right there, Luna.”

Before I knew it, Lucas had arrived. I had made him promise last night—the real reason why I had called him to my room—to remain by my side throughout my investigation. If Lucas, the one man Killian trusted the most, insisted that he had been with me all day, then he could testify that I hadn’t dug up Natalie’s grave.

My adoptive family’s home was just a short journey from the mansion. It was a quaint cottage by the outskirts of the town, accessible via a well-maintained forest trail. Lucas drove me there and parked out front, and I had him wait while I went inside.

The cottage was just the same as I remembered it; cozy and warm, a far cry from the austere Alpha mansion, and yet somehow even more eerie. I shuddered as I recalled the way Natalie and her mother always verbally abused me here, how alone and frightened I always felt, with only one shining light to keep me going: my love for Killian.

Now, of course, that love was gone, replaced by nothing but cold hatred and resentment.

Focusing on the task at hand, I slipped into Natalie’s old room and began quickly going through her things. My adoptive parents had kept everything the same after her death: the handmade patchwork quilt on the bed, the worn books on the shelves, the little painting area in the corner with a paint-spattered easel and a taboret filled with all the supplies she could ever want.

It made me feel bitter to think that I had never developed my own hobbies. First my warrior father died in battle, then my adoptive sister and mother treated me like dirt, then Killian and… the rest of it.

Once I got out of here, I hoped to finally learn more about myself and experience new things. I’d always had an interest in pottery. Maybe I would try that.

After digging for a while, I found something in Natalie’s desk: a scrap of paper that appeared to be part of a letter of some kind. I couldn’t make out the words, but there was a crest on it that I didn’t recognize. It was a gold circle with three slashes down the middle, like claw marks.

I pocketed the scrap, deciding to look into it later.

“What are you doing?”

I snapped my head up to see that my adoptive mother, Alice, had appeared out of nowhere without making a sound. She was always good at that—slinking around, seeing everything, picking on everything that I did.

She always hated me. Always. And with Natalie gone, her hatred only grew, believing I should have died instead. And when Natalie came back to life, Alice had immediately sided with her.

“Get out of Natalie’s room!” Alice shouted, jabbing her finger at me. “You shouldn’t be in here, you little sneak!”

In my past life, I would have cowered at my adoptive mother’s anger. I always wanted to please her even before Natalie’s “death”, then after, I felt bad that she had lost her daughter.

But not anymore. It wasn’t just Killian who I had decided to stand up to in this life.

So I lifted my chin and said firmly, “I never did anything to you or anyone in this family, Alice, and I won’t stand for you treating me so poorly any longer.”