The moon hung low in the sky, bloated and blood-red. Selene Caelum stood at the edge of the cliff, the icy wind whipping her hair across her face. Below, the forest stretched out like a sea of shadows, endless and impenetrable. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, not from fear, but from betrayal.
Behind her, the voices of the pack rose in cruel laughter. Rowan Vance, her mate, the man she had loved with every fiber of her being, stood at the center of them. His golden eyes gleamed with triumph, the same eyes that once softened when they looked at her.
"You're nothing," he said, his voice cold and final. "A lie wrapped in pretty words. Did you really think I'd bind myself to a fraud?"
Selene's throat tightened, but she refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of him. The humiliation was already unbearable, the weight of their stares pressing down on her.
"You'll regret this," she spat, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "One day, you'll wish you hadn't thrown me away."
Rowan smirked, stepping closer. "You're wrong, Selene. You're the one who'll regret this. You don't belong here. You never did."
And then, with a nod from him, the pack surged forward. They didn't need claws or teeth to destroy her. Their rejection was enough. The bond that once tethered her to Rowan snapped, leaving an emptiness so profound it felt like death.
But death was what they wanted.
They dragged her to the altar, an ancient slab of stone at the heart of the forest. The air was thick with the scent of burning herbs, the chants of the elders ringing in her ears. She struggled, but their grip was iron. The ritual was older than memory, a sacrifice to the Moonblood, the first wolf.
Her cries for mercy echoed into the void. No one answered.
As the knife descended, a single thought burned in her mind: This cannot be the end.
And then, there was darkness.
Selene gasped as her eyes flew open, her lungs aching as though she had been underwater. She sat up abruptly, her heart racing, her body slick with sweat. For a moment, she thought she was still on the altar, waiting for the final blow. But then she saw the familiar canopy of her room, the golden glow of the morning sun streaming through the windows.
She touched her chest, expecting to feel blood, a wound, something. But there was nothing. She was whole. Alive.
"Selene, you're going to be late!" Her mother's voice called from the hallway.
Her breath caught. That voice. Astrid Caelum, her adoptive mother, the woman who had stood silent during her execution, was alive. Selene scrambled out of bed and ran to the mirror.
The face staring back at her was hers, but younger—so much younger. Her hair was shorter, her features softer, untouched by the bitterness of betrayal. She blinked, her mind reeling.
This isn't possible.
She turned and flung open the door, sprinting down the hall. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread greeted her, a scent she hadn't known in what felt like lifetimes. She stumbled into the kitchen, and there they were: Astrid and Lucian, her adoptive parents, alive and well, chatting as if the world hadn't just ended.
Selene clutched the doorway, her legs trembling. "What…what day is it?"
Astrid looked up, frowning. "Selene? Are you feeling alright?"
"Just tell me the date," Selene demanded, her voice sharp.
Lucian chuckled. "It's June 12th, darling. The year's 2035."
The blood drained from her face. June 12th, 2035. One year before her death.
That night, Selene sat by her window, staring at the moon. It wasn't red. Not yet.
Her mind raced with questions. Had it all been a dream? A nightmare conjured by her fears? But the memories were too vivid, the pain too real. She could still feel the knife slicing into her skin, the weight of Rowan's betrayal crushing her soul.
And then there was the knowledge—the things she shouldn't know, but did. The secret tunnels beneath the Caelum estate. The hidden alliances between the Vance Pack and their rivals. The whispers of an ancient curse tied to her bloodline.
She clenched her fists. If this was real—if she truly had a second chance—she wouldn't waste it.
Selene wasn't naïve anymore. She wouldn't let Rowan or anyone else dictate her fate. This time, she would rewrite the ending.
But as the days passed, she realized it wasn't as simple as avoiding Rowan or playing her role as the perfect heiress. No matter what she did, the events of the past seemed to repeat themselves, as though the universe was determined to trap her in the same cycle of pain.
It wasn't until her third death that she understood the truth.
The loop wasn't just a chance. It was a curse.
Every time she died, she woke up again on June 12th, 2035, the day her world should have been ordinary. Each time, the betrayal came faster, more brutal, as though the universe was testing her resolve.
By the fifth loop, Selene had stopped crying. By the tenth, she had stopped begging.
She wasn't the weak girl they thought they could break. Not anymore.
If the loop was a curse, she would break it. If Rowan wanted her dead, she would make him regret it. And if the gods themselves stood in her way, she would tear them down.
The moon outside her window glowed softly, its light illuminating her face. It wasn't red, not yet. But one day, it would be.
Selene smiled. This time, she would be ready.
This time, they wouldn't see her coming.