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Adriana Xander always believed she would marry Matthew Langford. It wasn't until Matthew rejected her proposal seven times that he confessed he only saw her as a mistress and was about to marry his first love. She then accepted the proposal of another man—billionaire Mr. Lincoln. A thirty-year-old man's desire was raw and blunt. “One more round?” Matthew Langford whispered, his thick pen!s forcing its way into Adriana Xander's body. Instinctively, she squeezed her legs together, feeling her body about to collapse, overwhelmed by intense desire, almost unable to breathe. Adriana had lost track of how long he'd been at it. Her body felt like it was falling apart, drowning in lust so intense she could barely breathe. Matthew knew her body too well. He hit every sensitive spot with precision. Not a single touch was wasted. He was smooth and skilled. "Clear my schedule for the week starting tomorrow. I'm taking time off. Book two tickets to Neocoralis." Finally done, Matthew stood by the bed, slowly getting dressed. Adriana shifted her sore waist a bit, her eyes lighting up. "Matthew, you're taking me on vacation?" Matthew paused, frowned slightly, and looked at her. "I'm going with Natasha." The smile froze on Adriana's face. She lowered her head awkwardly, saying, "Okay, Mr. Langford ... " Seeing her pale face, Matthew spoke again. "Adriana, you're just an orphan. You're young. I can't marry you." Adriana looked up at him, forcing a bitter smile. "I never expected you to marry me ... But now that Ms. Jones is divorced and back, should we end this affair?" Matthew's face darkened. He rubbed her head, trying to soothe her, and placed a card on the nightstand. "Be good. Buy whatever you want." "Mr. Langford, I don't want to be a mistress ... " Adriana stared at him stubbornly. She knew he'd marry Natasha Jones eventually. "You're talking too soon. We'll deal with it when the time comes. Don't throw tantrums. Whether we end this or not isn't up to you." Clearly impatient, Matthew glanced at her one last time and left. As the door shut, Adriana's ears buzzed. She couldn't hear a thing. Adriana was an orphan. Freshman year, her looks drew the wrath of rich girl Mia Langford. The bullying left her deaf in one ear, crushed her pinky toe, and nearly blinded her with a cigarette burn ... Someone filmed it and posted it online. The scandal blew up. The school called in the parents. Standing in for Mia was Matthew—her brother. Maybe it was for the Langford Group's reputation, maybe out of pity, but Matthew reached out to the battered Adriana. The first thing he said to her was, "Don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you again." Spineless. Pathetic. Adriana fell for him. At her most vulnerable, Matthew fed every fantasy she had about love and safety. She used to think he was her salvation. But now ... he didn't love her. He just wouldn't let her go. ... At the Langford Group. Matthew had a meeting to handle his handover. Natasha waited in his office. Soon, they'd be flying to Neocoralis together ... to spend seven romantic days ahead. Adriana placed the coffee in front of Natasha, her chest aching like it was being sliced open. "Ms. Jones, enjoy your coffee." Natasha glanced at her, smiling gently. She came from a good family, perfectly matched with Matthew. They were childhood sweethearts. Natasha had that classy, elegant vibe. Born into wealth, effortlessly graceful—just sitting there, her confidence burned Adriana's eyes. Adriana knew she lost. She never stood a chance. A prince never really falls for a poor girl. He just used her to kill time. Setting down the cup, Adriana practically fled the office. She had no confidence. The orphan label, the poverty, the scars from the abuse—every inch of her screamed insecurity. "Mr. Langford and Ms. Jones are going on their honeymoon? I heard they're official now. Once they're back, the engagement will be announced. Both families already gave their blessing." In the pantry, coworkers gossiped about Matthew and Natasha's wedding. As Adriana filled her cup, the boiling water splashed on her hand, turning her skin red. The cup slipped from her hand and shattered. Startled, she rushed to rinse her burn under cold water. Matthew and Natasha were getting married. This meant she and Matthew were done. And so was her internship at the Langford Group. "Adriana, Mr. Langford wants you to drive him and Ms. Jones to the airport at 11," a coworker called out. Adriana forced a bitter smile. Matthew ... is ruthless. She knew he was doing it on purpose. There were drivers available, but he picked her—to remind her of her place and to kill off any foolish hopes. In the end, both Matthew and Mia were bullies. They just had different ways of breaking people. One shattered her body. The other crushed her already broken heart. Pulling out her phone, Adriana hesitated for a long time before dialing a number she had once blocked. "Hello, Mr. Lincoln. You once said ... if I agreed to marry you, you'd sponsor my studies in Pastalia. Does that offer still stand?" Her voice trembled. Marriage might be her only way out of Haldoria, also the only way to escape Matthew. "Think it through," the man replied in a deep voice. "Come to Clarke Residence on the 13th at 7 p.m. We'll discuss the details." The 13th. Eight days left.

Chapter 1 A Second Life Thora's POV: "Ugh!" My head throbbed with pain. Not just my head—every inch of my body aches, like I've been torn apart. But wait. Didn't I already blow up my soulstone and take those traitors with me? Why can I still feel pain? Rustling. Two unfamiliar footsteps came closer. I froze, holding my breath. "A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she's definitely dead. No need to waste time checking." "Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would've been fun to have a little taste before she died." The second voice was nasty. "Boss, maybe while her body's still warm, we—" "Shut it. That's disgusting. I'm heading back to report. You clean up." "Got it." The first man's steps faded away. The other flipped me over. His rough hand brushed my cheek. I snapped my eyes open and grabbed his throat. He froze, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you're alive?!" I frowned, looking at my thin arm. My strength is weak … way too weak. "B—" Before he could get the second word out, I grabbed his neck and twisted it hard. Crack! His body dropped limp to the ground. That one simple move nearly drained all the strength I had. Panting, I looked around. No blood-soaked battlefield of the apocalypse. Just a dark forest. And this fragile, beaten-up body wasn't mine. What happened? Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine tore into my mind— Rip! "Let go! Don't touch me!" The sound of cloth tearing. A girl's helpless cries. "Wait until this video of you fooling around with rogues spreads through the pack. Let's see if Grandpa can still protect you, you worthless mutt!" It was the cruel, gloating voice of another young girl, mixed with the faint buzz of a recording camera. The rogues' harsh breathing filled the air. Their filthy hands made her skin crawl. They twisted her arm behind her back as she fought with everything she had. The final image was the girl throwing herself off the cliff, crashing into the darkness below. Boom! Pain exploded through my head, yanking my mind back to reality. Sweat drenched my body. I gasped for air, piecing the truth together. So yes—I was dead. I had been Ash Keller, the only female Alpha Commander in the Apocalypse War Zone, betrayed by the ones I trusted. They poisoned me while I was badly wounded, cut my body open, and tried to steal the soulstone inside me that held duo powers. With the last of my strength, I detonated that soulstone and took every one of those traitors down with me. Maybe the Moon Goddess heard my cry of rage and gave me another chance at life. I woke up a thousand years in the past, inside the body of a sixteen-year-old girl named Thora Green. She was half human, half werewolf, but her wolf spirit had never awakened. In a society that worshiped pure bloodlines and believed in survival of the fittest, she was despised everywhere she went. The only one who ever stood by her was her grandfather—the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack, Marlon Green. Instead of rejecting her, Marlon loved her deeply. He even declared that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would be the next Alpha of the pack. That decision enraged the family. It also signed her death warrant. Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, wanted the Alpha position for herself. She secretly joined forces with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff. Their plan was cruel: let the rogues violate her so she would lose the right to lead. But Thora fought back. She didn't give in. In the end, she was shoved over the edge, falling to her death. Just before her consciousness faded away, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a strong soul to take her place. She wished for someone who'd avenge her and finish the dreams she never got to live. That prayer crossed time itself. It found me—someone who also died from betrayal a thousand years later. I lifted my head and stared at the bright full moon above me. The sight stunned me. Back in the apocalypse I came from, the world was poisoned and broken. The moonlight was always dim, mutant werewolves roamed everywhere, and I led soldiers in nonstop battles day and night. But here, the moonlight was pure. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. And yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the hatred within families were more dangerous than any enemy on the battlefield. If the Moon Goddess really showed me mercy and gave me this second life, then from now on—I'm Thora. Her enemies will face me. Her dreams? I'll make them happen! Chapter 2 The Will to Survive Thora's POV: But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive. This new body was in worse shape than I thought. My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles. If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster. I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?" Silence. Nothing answered. I couldn't feel her power at all. I closed my eyes and focused inward. Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora. Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless. Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock. A heavy wave of disappointment hit me. I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot. But the branches didn't budge. So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion. All I had left was myself. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could. The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts. Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds. I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last. That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder. Racing. Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars. I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees. From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark. I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds. I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road. I spread my arms wide. At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart. Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing. Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure. Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance. But there was no backing down now. I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road. Beeeep! The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning. 150 feet! 60 feet! 30 feet! 3 feet! Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy. Darius's POV: It was heat season again. No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned. So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me. Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight. My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves. Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish. And before I knew it, I was in last place. And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked. If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had. "You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!" Lorcan roared inside my head. "Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back. As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's. No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season. But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her. The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future. A thousand years, my foot! Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak! Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead. Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road. My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move. But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue. Is she trying to get herself killed?! The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away! "Damn it!" If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure. Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output. The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat. Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her. "Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel. Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind. I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path. But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar! "Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"

Chapter 1 A Second Life Thora's POV: "Ugh!" My head throbbed with pain. Not just my head—every inch of my body aches, like I've been torn apart. But wait. Didn't I already blow up my soulstone and take those traitors with me? Why can I still feel pain? Rustling. Two unfamiliar footsteps came closer. I froze, holding my breath. "A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she's definitely dead. No need to waste time checking." "Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would've been fun to have a little taste before she died." The second voice was nasty. "Boss, maybe while her body's still warm, we—" "Shut it. That's disgusting. I'm heading back to report. You clean up." "Got it." The first man's steps faded away. The other flipped me over. His rough hand brushed my cheek. I snapped my eyes open and grabbed his throat. He froze, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you're alive?!" I frowned, looking at my thin arm. My strength is weak … way too weak. "B—" Before he could get the second word out, I grabbed his neck and twisted it hard. Crack! His body dropped limp to the ground. That one simple move nearly drained all the strength I had. Panting, I looked around. No blood-soaked battlefield of the apocalypse. Just a dark forest. And this fragile, beaten-up body wasn't mine. What happened? Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine tore into my mind— Rip! "Let go! Don't touch me!" The sound of cloth tearing. A girl's helpless cries. "Wait until this video of you fooling around with rogues spreads through the pack. Let's see if Grandpa can still protect you, you worthless mutt!" It was the cruel, gloating voice of another young girl, mixed with the faint buzz of a recording camera. The rogues' harsh breathing filled the air. Their filthy hands made her skin crawl. They twisted her arm behind her back as she fought with everything she had. The final image was the girl throwing herself off the cliff, crashing into the darkness below. Boom! Pain exploded through my head, yanking my mind back to reality. Sweat drenched my body. I gasped for air, piecing the truth together. So yes—I was dead. I had been Ash Keller, the only female Alpha Commander in the Apocalypse War Zone, betrayed by the ones I trusted. They poisoned me while I was badly wounded, cut my body open, and tried to steal the soulstone inside me that held duo powers. With the last of my strength, I detonated that soulstone and took every one of those traitors down with me. Maybe the Moon Goddess heard my cry of rage and gave me another chance at life. I woke up a thousand years in the past, inside the body of a sixteen-year-old girl named Thora Green. She was half human, half werewolf, but her wolf spirit had never awakened. In a society that worshiped pure bloodlines and believed in survival of the fittest, she was despised everywhere she went. The only one who ever stood by her was her grandfather—the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack, Marlon Green. Instead of rejecting her, Marlon loved her deeply. He even declared that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would be the next Alpha of the pack. That decision enraged the family. It also signed her death warrant. Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, wanted the Alpha position for herself. She secretly joined forces with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff. Their plan was cruel: let the rogues violate her so she would lose the right to lead. But Thora fought back. She didn't give in. In the end, she was shoved over the edge, falling to her death. Just before her consciousness faded away, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a strong soul to take her place. She wished for someone who'd avenge her and finish the dreams she never got to live. That prayer crossed time itself. It found me—someone who also died from betrayal a thousand years later. I lifted my head and stared at the bright full moon above me. The sight stunned me. Back in the apocalypse I came from, the world was poisoned and broken. The moonlight was always dim, mutant werewolves roamed everywhere, and I led soldiers in nonstop battles day and night. But here, the moonlight was pure. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. And yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the hatred within families were more dangerous than any enemy on the battlefield. If the Moon Goddess really showed me mercy and gave me this second life, then from now on—I'm Thora. Her enemies will face me. Her dreams? I'll make them happen! Chapter 2 The Will to Survive Thora's POV: But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive. This new body was in worse shape than I thought. My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles. If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster. I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?" Silence. Nothing answered. I couldn't feel her power at all. I closed my eyes and focused inward. Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora. Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless. Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock. A heavy wave of disappointment hit me. I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot. But the branches didn't budge. So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion. All I had left was myself. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could. The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts. Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds. I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last. That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder. Racing. Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars. I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees. From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark. I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds. I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road. I spread my arms wide. At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart. Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing. Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure. Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance. But there was no backing down now. I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road. Beeeep! The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning. 150 feet! 60 feet! 30 feet! 3 feet! Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy. Darius's POV: It was heat season again. No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned. So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me. Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight. My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves. Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish. And before I knew it, I was in last place. And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked. If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had. "You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!" Lorcan roared inside my head. "Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back. As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's. No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season. But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her. The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future. A thousand years, my foot! Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak! Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead. Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road. My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move. But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue. Is she trying to get herself killed?! The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away! "Damn it!" If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure. Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output. The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat. Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her. "Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel. Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind. I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path. But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar! "Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"

Chapter 1 A Second Life Thora's POV: "Ugh!" My head throbbed with pain. Not just my head—every inch of my body aches, like I've been torn apart. But wait. Didn't I already blow up my soulstone and take those traitors with me? Why can I still feel pain? Rustling. Two unfamiliar footsteps came closer. I froze, holding my breath. "A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she's definitely dead. No need to waste time checking." "Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would've been fun to have a little taste before she died." The second voice was nasty. "Boss, maybe while her body's still warm, we—" "Shut it. That's disgusting. I'm heading back to report. You clean up." "Got it." The first man's steps faded away. The other flipped me over. His rough hand brushed my cheek. I snapped my eyes open and grabbed his throat. He froze, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you're alive?!" I frowned, looking at my thin arm. My strength is weak … way too weak. "B—" Before he could get the second word out, I grabbed his neck and twisted it hard. Crack! His body dropped limp to the ground. That one simple move nearly drained all the strength I had. Panting, I looked around. No blood-soaked battlefield of the apocalypse. Just a dark forest. And this fragile, beaten-up body wasn't mine. What happened? Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine tore into my mind— Rip! "Let go! Don't touch me!" The sound of cloth tearing. A girl's helpless cries. "Wait until this video of you fooling around with rogues spreads through the pack. Let's see if Grandpa can still protect you, you worthless mutt!" It was the cruel, gloating voice of another young girl, mixed with the faint buzz of a recording camera. The rogues' harsh breathing filled the air. Their filthy hands made her skin crawl. They twisted her arm behind her back as she fought with everything she had. The final image was the girl throwing herself off the cliff, crashing into the darkness below. Boom! Pain exploded through my head, yanking my mind back to reality. Sweat drenched my body. I gasped for air, piecing the truth together. So yes—I was dead. I had been Ash Keller, the only female Alpha Commander in the Apocalypse War Zone, betrayed by the ones I trusted. They poisoned me while I was badly wounded, cut my body open, and tried to steal the soulstone inside me that held duo powers. With the last of my strength, I detonated that soulstone and took every one of those traitors down with me. Maybe the Moon Goddess heard my cry of rage and gave me another chance at life. I woke up a thousand years in the past, inside the body of a sixteen-year-old girl named Thora Green. She was half human, half werewolf, but her wolf spirit had never awakened. In a society that worshiped pure bloodlines and believed in survival of the fittest, she was despised everywhere she went. The only one who ever stood by her was her grandfather—the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack, Marlon Green. Instead of rejecting her, Marlon loved her deeply. He even declared that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would be the next Alpha of the pack. That decision enraged the family. It also signed her death warrant. Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, wanted the Alpha position for herself. She secretly joined forces with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff. Their plan was cruel: let the rogues violate her so she would lose the right to lead. But Thora fought back. She didn't give in. In the end, she was shoved over the edge, falling to her death. Just before her consciousness faded away, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a strong soul to take her place. She wished for someone who'd avenge her and finish the dreams she never got to live. That prayer crossed time itself. It found me—someone who also died from betrayal a thousand years later. I lifted my head and stared at the bright full moon above me. The sight stunned me. Back in the apocalypse I came from, the world was poisoned and broken. The moonlight was always dim, mutant werewolves roamed everywhere, and I led soldiers in nonstop battles day and night. But here, the moonlight was pure. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. And yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the hatred within families were more dangerous than any enemy on the battlefield. If the Moon Goddess really showed me mercy and gave me this second life, then from now on—I'm Thora. Her enemies will face me. Her dreams? I'll make them happen! Chapter 2 The Will to Survive Thora's POV: But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive. This new body was in worse shape than I thought. My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles. If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster. I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?" Silence. Nothing answered. I couldn't feel her power at all. I closed my eyes and focused inward. Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora. Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless. Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock. A heavy wave of disappointment hit me. I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot. But the branches didn't budge. So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion. All I had left was myself. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could. The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts. Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds. I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last. That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder. Racing. Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars. I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees. From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark. I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds. I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road. I spread my arms wide. At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart. Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing. Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure. Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance. But there was no backing down now. I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road. Beeeep! The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning. 150 feet! 60 feet! 30 feet! 3 feet! Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy. Darius's POV: It was heat season again. No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned. So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me. Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight. My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves. Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish. And before I knew it, I was in last place. And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked. If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had. "You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!" Lorcan roared inside my head. "Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back. As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's. No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season. But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her. The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future. A thousand years, my foot! Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak! Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead. Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road. My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move. But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue. Is she trying to get herself killed?! The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away! "Damn it!" If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure. Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output. The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat. Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her. "Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel. Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind. I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path. But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar! "Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"

Adriana Xander always believed she would marry Matthew Langford. It wasn't until Matthew rejected her proposal seven times that he confessed he only saw her as a mistress and was about to marry his first love. She then accepted the proposal of another man—billionaire Mr. Lincoln. A thirty-year-old man's desire was raw and blunt. “One more round?” Matthew Langford whispered, his thick pen!s forcing its way into Adriana Xander's body. Instinctively, she squeezed her legs together, feeling her body about to collapse, overwhelmed by intense desire, almost unable to breathe. Adriana had lost track of how long he'd been at it. Her body felt like it was falling apart, drowning in lust so intense she could barely breathe. Matthew knew her body too well. He hit every sensitive spot with precision. Not a single touch was wasted. He was smooth and skilled. "Clear my schedule for the week starting tomorrow. I'm taking time off. Book two tickets to Neocoralis." Finally done, Matthew stood by the bed, slowly getting dressed. Adriana shifted her sore waist a bit, her eyes lighting up. "Matthew, you're taking me on vacation?" Matthew paused, frowned slightly, and looked at her. "I'm going with Natasha." The smile froze on Adriana's face. She lowered her head awkwardly, saying, "Okay, Mr. Langford ... " Seeing her pale face, Matthew spoke again. "Adriana, you're just an orphan. You're young. I can't marry you." Adriana looked up at him, forcing a bitter smile. "I never expected you to marry me ... But now that Ms. Jones is divorced and back, should we end this affair?" Matthew's face darkened. He rubbed her head, trying to soothe her, and placed a card on the nightstand. "Be good. Buy whatever you want." "Mr. Langford, I don't want to be a mistress ... " Adriana stared at him stubbornly. She knew he'd marry Natasha Jones eventually. "You're talking too soon. We'll deal with it when the time comes. Don't throw tantrums. Whether we end this or not isn't up to you." Clearly impatient, Matthew glanced at her one last time and left. As the door shut, Adriana's ears buzzed. She couldn't hear a thing. Adriana was an orphan. Freshman year, her looks drew the wrath of rich girl Mia Langford. The bullying left her deaf in one ear, crushed her pinky toe, and nearly blinded her with a cigarette burn ... Someone filmed it and posted it online. The scandal blew up. The school called in the parents. Standing in for Mia was Matthew—her brother. Maybe it was for the Langford Group's reputation, maybe out of pity, but Matthew reached out to the battered Adriana. The first thing he said to her was, "Don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you again." Spineless. Pathetic. Adriana fell for him. At her most vulnerable, Matthew fed every fantasy she had about love and safety. She used to think he was her salvation. But now ... he didn't love her. He just wouldn't let her go. ... At the Langford Group. Matthew had a meeting to handle his handover. Natasha waited in his office. Soon, they'd be flying to Neocoralis together ... to spend seven romantic days ahead. Adriana placed the coffee in front of Natasha, her chest aching like it was being sliced open. "Ms. Jones, enjoy your coffee." Natasha glanced at her, smiling gently. She came from a good family, perfectly matched with Matthew. They were childhood sweethearts. Natasha had that classy, elegant vibe. Born into wealth, effortlessly graceful—just sitting there, her confidence burned Adriana's eyes. Adriana knew she lost. She never stood a chance. A prince never really falls for a poor girl. He just used her to kill time. Setting down the cup, Adriana practically fled the office. She had no confidence. The orphan label, the poverty, the scars from the abuse—every inch of her screamed insecurity. "Mr. Langford and Ms. Jones are going on their honeymoon? I heard they're official now. Once they're back, the engagement will be announced. Both families already gave their blessing." In the pantry, coworkers gossiped about Matthew and Natasha's wedding. As Adriana filled her cup, the boiling water splashed on her hand, turning her skin red. The cup slipped from her hand and shattered. Startled, she rushed to rinse her burn under cold water. Matthew and Natasha were getting married. This meant she and Matthew were done. And so was her internship at the Langford Group. "Adriana, Mr. Langford wants you to drive him and Ms. Jones to the airport at 11," a coworker called out. Adriana forced a bitter smile. Matthew ... is ruthless. She knew he was doing it on purpose. There were drivers available, but he picked her—to remind her of her place and to kill off any foolish hopes. In the end, both Matthew and Mia were bullies. They just had different ways of breaking people. One shattered her body. The other crushed her already broken heart. Pulling out her phone, Adriana hesitated for a long time before dialing a number she had once blocked. "Hello, Mr. Lincoln. You once said ... if I agreed to marry you, you'd sponsor my studies in Pastalia. Does that offer still stand?" Her voice trembled. Marriage might be her only way out of Haldoria, also the only way to escape Matthew. "Think it through," the man replied in a deep voice. "Come to Clarke Residence on the 13th at 7 p.m. We'll discuss the details." The 13th. Eight days left.

Adriana Xander always believed she would marry Matthew Langford. It wasn't until Matthew rejected her proposal seven times that he confessed he only saw her as a mistress and was about to marry his first love. She then accepted the proposal of another man—billionaire Mr. Lincoln. A thirty-year-old man's desire was raw and blunt. “One more round?” Matthew Langford whispered, his thick pen!s forcing its way into Adriana Xander's body. Instinctively, she squeezed her legs together, feeling her body about to collapse, overwhelmed by intense desire, almost unable to breathe. Adriana had lost track of how long he'd been at it. Her body felt like it was falling apart, drowning in lust so intense she could barely breathe. Matthew knew her body too well. He hit every sensitive spot with precision. Not a single touch was wasted. He was smooth and skilled. "Clear my schedule for the week starting tomorrow. I'm taking time off. Book two tickets to Neocoralis." Finally done, Matthew stood by the bed, slowly getting dressed. Adriana shifted her sore waist a bit, her eyes lighting up. "Matthew, you're taking me on vacation?" Matthew paused, frowned slightly, and looked at her. "I'm going with Natasha." The smile froze on Adriana's face. She lowered her head awkwardly, saying, "Okay, Mr. Langford ... " Seeing her pale face, Matthew spoke again. "Adriana, you're just an orphan. You're young. I can't marry you." Adriana looked up at him, forcing a bitter smile. "I never expected you to marry me ... But now that Ms. Jones is divorced and back, should we end this affair?" Matthew's face darkened. He rubbed her head, trying to soothe her, and placed a card on the nightstand. "Be good. Buy whatever you want." "Mr. Langford, I don't want to be a mistress ... " Adriana stared at him stubbornly. She knew he'd marry Natasha Jones eventually. "You're talking too soon. We'll deal with it when the time comes. Don't throw tantrums. Whether we end this or not isn't up to you." Clearly impatient, Matthew glanced at her one last time and left. As the door shut, Adriana's ears buzzed. She couldn't hear a thing. Adriana was an orphan. Freshman year, her looks drew the wrath of rich girl Mia Langford. The bullying left her deaf in one ear, crushed her pinky toe, and nearly blinded her with a cigarette burn ... Someone filmed it and posted it online. The scandal blew up. The school called in the parents. Standing in for Mia was Matthew—her brother. Maybe it was for the Langford Group's reputation, maybe out of pity, but Matthew reached out to the battered Adriana. The first thing he said to her was, "Don't be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you again." Spineless. Pathetic. Adriana fell for him. At her most vulnerable, Matthew fed every fantasy she had about love and safety. She used to think he was her salvation. But now ... he didn't love her. He just wouldn't let her go. ... At the Langford Group. Matthew had a meeting to handle his handover. Natasha waited in his office. Soon, they'd be flying to Neocoralis together ... to spend seven romantic days ahead. Adriana placed the coffee in front of Natasha, her chest aching like it was being sliced open. "Ms. Jones, enjoy your coffee." Natasha glanced at her, smiling gently. She came from a good family, perfectly matched with Matthew. They were childhood sweethearts. Natasha had that classy, elegant vibe. Born into wealth, effortlessly graceful—just sitting there, her confidence burned Adriana's eyes. Adriana knew she lost. She never stood a chance. A prince never really falls for a poor girl. He just used her to kill time. Setting down the cup, Adriana practically fled the office. She had no confidence. The orphan label, the poverty, the scars from the abuse—every inch of her screamed insecurity. "Mr. Langford and Ms. Jones are going on their honeymoon? I heard they're official now. Once they're back, the engagement will be announced. Both families already gave their blessing." In the pantry, coworkers gossiped about Matthew and Natasha's wedding. As Adriana filled her cup, the boiling water splashed on her hand, turning her skin red. The cup slipped from her hand and shattered. Startled, she rushed to rinse her burn under cold water. Matthew and Natasha were getting married. This meant she and Matthew were done. And so was her internship at the Langford Group. "Adriana, Mr. Langford wants you to drive him and Ms. Jones to the airport at 11," a coworker called out. Adriana forced a bitter smile. Matthew ... is ruthless. She knew he was doing it on purpose. There were drivers available, but he picked her—to remind her of her place and to kill off any foolish hopes. In the end, both Matthew and Mia were bullies. They just had different ways of breaking people. One shattered her body. The other crushed her already broken heart. Pulling out her phone, Adriana hesitated for a long time before dialing a number she had once blocked. "Hello, Mr. Lincoln. You once said ... if I agreed to marry you, you'd sponsor my studies in Pastalia. Does that offer still stand?" Her voice trembled. Marriage might be her only way out of Haldoria, also the only way to escape Matthew. "Think it through," the man replied in a deep voice. "Come to Clarke Residence on the 13th at 7 p.m. We'll discuss the details." The 13th. Eight days left.

Chapter 1 A Second Life Thora's POV: "Ugh!" My head throbbed with pain. Not just my head—every inch of my body aches, like I've been torn apart. But wait. Didn't I already blow up my soulstone and take those traitors with me? Why can I still feel pain? Rustling. Two unfamiliar footsteps came closer. I froze, holding my breath. "A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she's definitely dead. No need to waste time checking." "Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would've been fun to have a little taste before she died." The second voice was nasty. "Boss, maybe while her body's still warm, we—" "Shut it. That's disgusting. I'm heading back to report. You clean up." "Got it." The first man's steps faded away. The other flipped me over. His rough hand brushed my cheek. I snapped my eyes open and grabbed his throat. He froze, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you're alive?!" I frowned, looking at my thin arm. My strength is weak … way too weak. "B—" Before he could get the second word out, I grabbed his neck and twisted it hard. Crack! His body dropped limp to the ground. That one simple move nearly drained all the strength I had. Panting, I looked around. No blood-soaked battlefield of the apocalypse. Just a dark forest. And this fragile, beaten-up body wasn't mine. What happened? Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine tore into my mind— Rip! "Let go! Don't touch me!" The sound of cloth tearing. A girl's helpless cries. "Wait until this video of you fooling around with rogues spreads through the pack. Let's see if Grandpa can still protect you, you worthless mutt!" It was the cruel, gloating voice of another young girl, mixed with the faint buzz of a recording camera. The rogues' harsh breathing filled the air. Their filthy hands made her skin crawl. They twisted her arm behind her back as she fought with everything she had. The final image was the girl throwing herself off the cliff, crashing into the darkness below. Boom! Pain exploded through my head, yanking my mind back to reality. Sweat drenched my body. I gasped for air, piecing the truth together. So yes—I was dead. I had been Ash Keller, the only female Alpha Commander in the Apocalypse War Zone, betrayed by the ones I trusted. They poisoned me while I was badly wounded, cut my body open, and tried to steal the soulstone inside me that held duo powers. With the last of my strength, I detonated that soulstone and took every one of those traitors down with me. Maybe the Moon Goddess heard my cry of rage and gave me another chance at life. I woke up a thousand years in the past, inside the body of a sixteen-year-old girl named Thora Green. She was half human, half werewolf, but her wolf spirit had never awakened. In a society that worshiped pure bloodlines and believed in survival of the fittest, she was despised everywhere she went. The only one who ever stood by her was her grandfather—the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack, Marlon Green. Instead of rejecting her, Marlon loved her deeply. He even declared that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would be the next Alpha of the pack. That decision enraged the family. It also signed her death warrant. Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, wanted the Alpha position for herself. She secretly joined forces with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff. Their plan was cruel: let the rogues violate her so she would lose the right to lead. But Thora fought back. She didn't give in. In the end, she was shoved over the edge, falling to her death. Just before her consciousness faded away, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a strong soul to take her place. She wished for someone who'd avenge her and finish the dreams she never got to live. That prayer crossed time itself. It found me—someone who also died from betrayal a thousand years later. I lifted my head and stared at the bright full moon above me. The sight stunned me. Back in the apocalypse I came from, the world was poisoned and broken. The moonlight was always dim, mutant werewolves roamed everywhere, and I led soldiers in nonstop battles day and night. But here, the moonlight was pure. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. And yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the hatred within families were more dangerous than any enemy on the battlefield. If the Moon Goddess really showed me mercy and gave me this second life, then from now on—I'm Thora. Her enemies will face me. Her dreams? I'll make them happen! Chapter 2 The Will to Survive Thora's POV: But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive. This new body was in worse shape than I thought. My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles. If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster. I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?" Silence. Nothing answered. I couldn't feel her power at all. I closed my eyes and focused inward. Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora. Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless. Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock. A heavy wave of disappointment hit me. I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot. But the branches didn't budge. So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion. All I had left was myself. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could. The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts. Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds. I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last. That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder. Racing. Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars. I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees. From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark. I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds. I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road. I spread my arms wide. At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart. Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing. Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure. Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance. But there was no backing down now. I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road. Beeeep! The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning. 150 feet! 60 feet! 30 feet! 3 feet! Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy. Darius's POV: It was heat season again. No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned. So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me. Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight. My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves. Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish. And before I knew it, I was in last place. And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked. If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had. "You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!" Lorcan roared inside my head. "Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back. As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's. No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season. But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her. The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future. A thousand years, my foot! Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak! Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead. Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road. My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move. But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue. Is she trying to get herself killed?! The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away! "Damn it!" If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure. Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output. The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat. Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her. "Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel. Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind. I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path. But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar! "Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"

Chapter 1 A Second Life Thora's POV: "Ugh!" My head throbbed with pain. Not just my head—every inch of my body aches, like I've been torn apart. But wait. Didn't I already blow up my soulstone and take those traitors with me? Why can I still feel pain? Rustling. Two unfamiliar footsteps came closer. I froze, holding my breath. "A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she's definitely dead. No need to waste time checking." "Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would've been fun to have a little taste before she died." The second voice was nasty. "Boss, maybe while her body's still warm, we—" "Shut it. That's disgusting. I'm heading back to report. You clean up." "Got it." The first man's steps faded away. The other flipped me over. His rough hand brushed my cheek. I snapped my eyes open and grabbed his throat. He froze, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you're alive?!" I frowned, looking at my thin arm. My strength is weak … way too weak. "B—" Before he could get the second word out, I grabbed his neck and twisted it hard. Crack! His body dropped limp to the ground. That one simple move nearly drained all the strength I had. Panting, I looked around. No blood-soaked battlefield of the apocalypse. Just a dark forest. And this fragile, beaten-up body wasn't mine. What happened? Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine tore into my mind— Rip! "Let go! Don't touch me!" The sound of cloth tearing. A girl's helpless cries. "Wait until this video of you fooling around with rogues spreads through the pack. Let's see if Grandpa can still protect you, you worthless mutt!" It was the cruel, gloating voice of another young girl, mixed with the faint buzz of a recording camera. The rogues' harsh breathing filled the air. Their filthy hands made her skin crawl. They twisted her arm behind her back as she fought with everything she had. The final image was the girl throwing herself off the cliff, crashing into the darkness below. Boom! Pain exploded through my head, yanking my mind back to reality. Sweat drenched my body. I gasped for air, piecing the truth together. So yes—I was dead. I had been Ash Keller, the only female Alpha Commander in the Apocalypse War Zone, betrayed by the ones I trusted. They poisoned me while I was badly wounded, cut my body open, and tried to steal the soulstone inside me that held duo powers. With the last of my strength, I detonated that soulstone and took every one of those traitors down with me. Maybe the Moon Goddess heard my cry of rage and gave me another chance at life. I woke up a thousand years in the past, inside the body of a sixteen-year-old girl named Thora Green. She was half human, half werewolf, but her wolf spirit had never awakened. In a society that worshiped pure bloodlines and believed in survival of the fittest, she was despised everywhere she went. The only one who ever stood by her was her grandfather—the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack, Marlon Green. Instead of rejecting her, Marlon loved her deeply. He even declared that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would be the next Alpha of the pack. That decision enraged the family. It also signed her death warrant. Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, wanted the Alpha position for herself. She secretly joined forces with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff. Their plan was cruel: let the rogues violate her so she would lose the right to lead. But Thora fought back. She didn't give in. In the end, she was shoved over the edge, falling to her death. Just before her consciousness faded away, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a strong soul to take her place. She wished for someone who'd avenge her and finish the dreams she never got to live. That prayer crossed time itself. It found me—someone who also died from betrayal a thousand years later. I lifted my head and stared at the bright full moon above me. The sight stunned me. Back in the apocalypse I came from, the world was poisoned and broken. The moonlight was always dim, mutant werewolves roamed everywhere, and I led soldiers in nonstop battles day and night. But here, the moonlight was pure. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. And yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the hatred within families were more dangerous than any enemy on the battlefield. If the Moon Goddess really showed me mercy and gave me this second life, then from now on—I'm Thora. Her enemies will face me. Her dreams? I'll make them happen! Chapter 2 The Will to Survive Thora's POV: But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive. This new body was in worse shape than I thought. My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles. If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster. I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?" Silence. Nothing answered. I couldn't feel her power at all. I closed my eyes and focused inward. Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora. Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless. Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock. A heavy wave of disappointment hit me. I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot. But the branches didn't budge. So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion. All I had left was myself. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could. The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts. Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds. I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last. That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder. Racing. Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars. I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees. From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark. I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds. I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road. I spread my arms wide. At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart. Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing. Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure. Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance. But there was no backing down now. I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road. Beeeep! The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning. 150 feet! 60 feet! 30 feet! 3 feet! Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy. Darius's POV: It was heat season again. No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned. So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me. Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight. My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves. Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish. And before I knew it, I was in last place. And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked. If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had. "You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!" Lorcan roared inside my head. "Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back. As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's. No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season. But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her. The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future. A thousand years, my foot! Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak! Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead. Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road. My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move. But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue. Is she trying to get herself killed?! The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away! "Damn it!" If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure. Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output. The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat. Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her. "Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel. Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind. I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path. But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar! "Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"

Chapter 1 A Second Life Thora's POV: "Ugh!" My head throbbed with pain. Not just my head—every inch of my body aches, like I've been torn apart. But wait. Didn't I already blow up my soulstone and take those traitors with me? Why can I still feel pain? Rustling. Two unfamiliar footsteps came closer. I froze, holding my breath. "A worthless half-blood without a wolf like her? Falling off a cliff like that—she's definitely dead. No need to waste time checking." "Tsk! What a shame. She was so pretty. Would've been fun to have a little taste before she died." The second voice was nasty. "Boss, maybe while her body's still warm, we—" "Shut it. That's disgusting. I'm heading back to report. You clean up." "Got it." The first man's steps faded away. The other flipped me over. His rough hand brushed my cheek. I snapped my eyes open and grabbed his throat. He froze, eyes wide with fear. "Y-you're alive?!" I frowned, looking at my thin arm. My strength is weak … way too weak. "B—" Before he could get the second word out, I grabbed his neck and twisted it hard. Crack! His body dropped limp to the ground. That one simple move nearly drained all the strength I had. Panting, I looked around. No blood-soaked battlefield of the apocalypse. Just a dark forest. And this fragile, beaten-up body wasn't mine. What happened? Suddenly, a flood of memories that weren't mine tore into my mind— Rip! "Let go! Don't touch me!" The sound of cloth tearing. A girl's helpless cries. "Wait until this video of you fooling around with rogues spreads through the pack. Let's see if Grandpa can still protect you, you worthless mutt!" It was the cruel, gloating voice of another young girl, mixed with the faint buzz of a recording camera. The rogues' harsh breathing filled the air. Their filthy hands made her skin crawl. They twisted her arm behind her back as she fought with everything she had. The final image was the girl throwing herself off the cliff, crashing into the darkness below. Boom! Pain exploded through my head, yanking my mind back to reality. Sweat drenched my body. I gasped for air, piecing the truth together. So yes—I was dead. I had been Ash Keller, the only female Alpha Commander in the Apocalypse War Zone, betrayed by the ones I trusted. They poisoned me while I was badly wounded, cut my body open, and tried to steal the soulstone inside me that held duo powers. With the last of my strength, I detonated that soulstone and took every one of those traitors down with me. Maybe the Moon Goddess heard my cry of rage and gave me another chance at life. I woke up a thousand years in the past, inside the body of a sixteen-year-old girl named Thora Green. She was half human, half werewolf, but her wolf spirit had never awakened. In a society that worshiped pure bloodlines and believed in survival of the fittest, she was despised everywhere she went. The only one who ever stood by her was her grandfather—the Alpha of the Silverleaf Pack, Marlon Green. Instead of rejecting her, Marlon loved her deeply. He even declared that once Thora came of age and awakened her wolf spirit, she would be the next Alpha of the pack. That decision enraged the family. It also signed her death warrant. Her younger half-sister, Hazel Green, wanted the Alpha position for herself. She secretly joined forces with rogues who had betrayed the werewolves. Together, they lured Thora to a cliff. Their plan was cruel: let the rogues violate her so she would lose the right to lead. But Thora fought back. She didn't give in. In the end, she was shoved over the edge, falling to her death. Just before her consciousness faded away, she prayed to the Moon Goddess—not for rebirth, but for a strong soul to take her place. She wished for someone who'd avenge her and finish the dreams she never got to live. That prayer crossed time itself. It found me—someone who also died from betrayal a thousand years later. I lifted my head and stared at the bright full moon above me. The sight stunned me. Back in the apocalypse I came from, the world was poisoned and broken. The moonlight was always dim, mutant werewolves roamed everywhere, and I led soldiers in nonstop battles day and night. But here, the moonlight was pure. The werewolves had not yet been twisted by mutation. And yet, even in this time, the chains of bloodlines and the hatred within families were more dangerous than any enemy on the battlefield. If the Moon Goddess really showed me mercy and gave me this second life, then from now on—I'm Thora. Her enemies will face me. Her dreams? I'll make them happen! Chapter 2 The Will to Survive Thora's POV: But right now, the only thing that mattered was staying alive. This new body was in worse shape than I thought. My left leg was broken, my head spun from a concussion, and I was covered in bruises and torn muscles. If only my wolf spirit, Amie, had been reborn with me. With her strength, I could have healed faster. I tried to reach out through the mind-link. "Amie?" Silence. Nothing answered. I couldn't feel her power at all. I closed my eyes and focused inward. Deep inside me, I found the soulstone that belonged to the original Thora. Every werewolf was born with one, but unless their wolf spirit awakened, the stone stayed dull and lifeless. Mine looked like nothing more than a gray rock. A heavy wave of disappointment hit me. I opened my eyes again. This time, I fixed my gaze on two branches lying nearby. I tried to use the telekinesis I'd once awakened during the apocalypse. If my gift had come with me, maybe I'd still have a shot. But the branches didn't budge. So it was true. Amie hadn't been reborn. My powers had died along with the soulstone's explosion. All I had left was myself. Grinding my teeth against the pain, I grabbed a stick and splinted my broken leg as best I could. The rest of my wounds had already crusted over in the cold night air. I tore my clothes into strips and wrapped the worst cuts. Too much blood had already been lost. The world spun every few seconds. I needed real medical help soon, or I wouldn't last. That's when I heard it. Engines. Several of them. Roaring and tearing through the night like thunder. Racing. Perfect. If I wanted a way out of here, I needed one of those cars. I leaned on a thick branch as a crutch and limped out of the trees. From where I stood, I saw the mountain road below. Sleek rally cars shot past one after another, headlights cutting through the dark. I listened carefully. Judging by the sound, one car would reach my spot in about 10 seconds. I drew in a sharp breath, pushed through the stabbing pain in my leg, and forced myself into the middle of the road. I spread my arms wide. At once, blinding headlights locked onto me. A black rally car screamed down the asphalt like a beast set loose. The engine was howling as if it wanted to tear the world apart. Then it hit me—not the car, but something even heavier. An Alpha's scent. It slammed into me like a tidal wave, invisible but crushing. Even after surviving countless life-and-death battles during the apocalypse, my body instinctively stiffened under that crushing pressure. Whoever was behind that wheel wasn't just any werewolf. That presence was pure dominance. But there was no backing down now. I fought the urge to dodge, threw my arms wide open, and stood firm in the middle of the road. Beeeep! The sharp blare of the horn cut through the night like lightning. 150 feet! 60 feet! 30 feet! 3 feet! Just as that speeding race car, heavy with Alpha pressure, was about to slam into me, I felt the soulstone inside my body stir—releasing a familiar wave of energy. Darius's POV: It was heat season again. No matter how much serum I injected, it barely helped. My blood still burned. So I took my car to the mountain roads, hoping the rush of speed would quiet the fire raging through me. Normally, I'd have led the race with ease. But not tonight. My wolf spirit, Lorcan, kept thrashing inside my mind, clawing at my nerves. Every sharp turn I needed to take came a split second too late, making me sluggish. And before I knew it, I was in last place. And the loser of this race? Had to run around the mountain completely naked. If word got out that the Alpha of the Nightclaw Pack had run naked in public, I'd lose every shred of respect I had. "You want this to stop? Then find our fated mate!" Lorcan roared inside my head. "Fuck, do you think I don't want to?!" I shouted back. As an Alpha who had awakened an ancient wolf spirit, my heat season came once a year after I reached adulthood—burning hotter and hitting harder than any other werewolf's. No one wanted to find their fated mate more than I did. Only she could calm the madness that burned through my blood every season. But no matter how many years passed, I still hadn't found her. The grand priest once predicted that my fated mate lived a thousand years in the future. A thousand years, my foot! Werewolves live barely 300 years! I'm not some immortal freak! Grinding my teeth, I shut Lorcan out and focused on the road. I slammed on the gas, chasing the cars ahead. Then, as I rounded a sharp curve—I froze. A person was standing less than 300 feet in the middle of the road. My breath caught. I slammed the horn again and again, warning her to move. But she didn't. She just stood there—still as a statue. Is she trying to get herself killed?! The car roared forward, the distance closing fast. Just 150 feet away! "Damn it!" If I didn't stop, I'd hit her for sure. Acting on instinct, I slammed the secret control switch to reverse the car's energy output. The tires screamed, the sound slicing through my ears. The force nearly threw me out of the seat. Finally, the car screeched to a halt. Only 2 feet away from her. "Fuck!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the wheel. Between the burning madness of my heat season and the fury boiling inside me, I was seconds from losing my mind. I shoved open the door in rage and stormed toward the figure, ready to tear into whoever had dared block my path. But the moment I got close to that slender figure, Lorcan's voice exploded in my mind with a deafening roar! "Mate! I can smell our fated mate!"