Reborn To Choose The True Alpha Mate

Elara's POV:

The searing heat was the first thing I knew.

It wasn't just heat. It was a physical weight, a crushing force that stole the air from my lungs and replaced it with thick, black smoke. Every breath was a fresh agony, a thousand tiny needles scraping the inside of my throat.

A heavy, charred beam lay across my legs. I felt the sickening crunch of bone through the haze of pain.

I was going to die here.

But then, as if the fire had spent its rage, the flames slowly receded, licking at the remaining timbers before dying down to smoldering embers. The roar softened to a whisper, and the scorching heat lifted just enough for me to draw a shallow, rattling breath.

Through the thinning haze, two figures emerged from the gloom. They moved with an unnatural calm, untouched by the inferno that was consuming my home.

My stepsister, Betsey. And then there's my Beta fiancé. Jarod Hurst-the man for whom I gave up a betrothal to the most powerful Alpha in the pack, and stubbornly insisted on being with.

"My dear sister," Betsey's voice was a sweet poison, cutting through the roar of the flames. "You look an absolute mess."

Her emerald eyes, usually so full of gentle light, danced with a vicious glee. She was perfect, her silken dress free of soot, her golden hair gleaming in the firelight.

Jarod stood beside her, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. He looked down at me, his handsome face twisted into a sneer of contempt. The same man who had sworn to love me just yesterday.

A desperate, guttural sound escaped my throat as I tried to shift, to move, to do anything. The pain in my legs exploded, a white-hot flash that blacked out my vision for a second.

Betsey knelt, her movements graceful. She reached out and stroked my soot-stained cheek, her touch a mockery of affection. "Did you know? Father's Alpha heart failing... it wasn't an accident."

The world tilted. My father, the powerful Alpha Jonathan Beaumont, dead just a month ago.

Jarod chuckled, a low, cruel sound. "A little extract of wolfsbane in his nightly wine. Just a drop. Not enough to kill him outright, but enough to ensure his heart wouldn't survive another Shift."

The memory slammed into me. The attack by stray wolves a month ago. Father, forcing the change to protect us, his roar of agony as his heart burst in his chest.

It wasn't a hero's death. It was murder.

"And our loyal pack warriors," Betsey continued, her voice light and airy, as if discussing the weather. "A pinch of silver dust in the well water. Just enough to make them weak."

She giggled, a sound like shattering glass. "They couldn't even lift their swords before the rogues tore them apart. It was quite a show."

My stomach churned, a knot of bile and horror.

Jarod kicked at a piece of burning debris, revealing the Beaumont family crest carved into the floorboards beneath. He ground his heel into it, deliberately, grinding the stone to dust.

"Your stupidity was our greatest weapon," he spat, his voice dripping with scorn. "Did you really think I would ever want a mate who couldn't even read a pack's financial report?"

His words were a dagger to my heart. Foolish. Useless. A pretty decoration. The same words my father and the elders had used for years.

"Don't be so cruel, darling," Betsey said, pulling a lace handkerchief from her sleeve. She dabbed at her perfectly clean hands. "It was sister's trust that gave you control of the household finances. How else could you have emptied our vaults to pay off those lovely rogues?"

Every memory of the past year replayed in my mind, twisted and grotesque. Every act of trust, every shared secret, was just another nail in my coffin.

I forced my head up, the smoke tearing at my eyes. "Why?" The word was a raw, broken whisper.

For the first time, Betsey's perfect mask cracked. Her face contorted with a jealousy so potent it was almost a physical force. "Why? Because you were born an Alpha, with everything handed to you! While I was just an Omega. My mother, just a second choice, a secret mate."

"And now," Jarod declared, pulling her close and kissing her forehead, "everything is ours."

Betsey's eyes found a smoldering piece of wood on the floor. She picked it up, the end glowing like a demon's eye. She brought it close to my face, slow, deliberate. I could feel the skin on my cheek begin to blister, the smell of my own burning flesh filling my nostrils.

She savored the terror in my eyes. "Do you know the funniest part?" she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. "Donnie Sinclair. The powerful Alpha who is so very in love with you. Your former fiancé. He's riding here now, with all his warriors, to save the day."

Donnie. The name was a fresh wave of pain. The only warmth in my cold, lonely life.

"Such a shame," Betsey cooed. "All he'll find is your corpse."

She smiled, a beautiful, deadly thing.

"Farewell, sister."

She dropped the burning brand onto my chest.

Fire consumed me. The pain was absolute, a universe of agony. But through it, my hatred burned hotter. I stared at their retreating backs, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, and I swore an oath to the Moon Goddess.

If there is another life, I will find you. I will make you suffer. I will grind your bones to dust.

My body felt like it was being torn apart, my soul ripped from its failing vessel.

Darkness.

And then, nothing. The burning, the smoke, the suffocation-it all vanished.

A rush of cold, clean air filled my lungs.

I gasped, and my eyes flew open.