The silver blade slides between my ribs like it belongs there.
I gasp, tasting copper and champagne on my tongue. Marcus stands over me in his fifteen-thousand-dollar tuxedo, green eyes reflecting the city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. White roses from my engagement bouquet scatter across the marble floor of Sterling Industries' penthouse office.
"Forgive me, Bella," he whispers, his hand cold against my forehead. "But an Omega can never inherit what belongs to Alphas."
The world fades to black at exactly 11:47 PM on October 13th, 2025.
I wake up screaming.
My hands fly to my chest, searching for the wound that should be there. Nothing. Just smooth skin beneath my cotton pajamas and the frantic hammering of my heart.
Sunlight streams through familiar lace curtains. My childhood bedroom. The same pale yellow walls, the same white furniture I've had since I was sixteen. Even the acceptance letter to Columbia Law School sits on my nightstand, exactly where I left it three years ago.
Three years ago.
I fumble for my phone with shaking fingers. The screen lights up: October 13th, 2022. 7:23 AM.
My twenty-third birthday. Three years before Marcus kills me.
"No." The word comes out as a croak. "No, no, no."
I scroll through my contacts. Marcus is there, saved as "My Alpha" with a heart emoji. The sight makes my stomach turn. Below his name: Sarah, Mom, Dad, Dr. Rosewood. All the people who should be dead or missing from my life.
Mom and Dad. They died in a car accident when I was eighteen. I attended their funeral. I watched them lower the coffins into the ground. I held my mother's favorite red lipstick in my trembling hands as they covered her casket with dirt.
But according to my phone, they're very much alive.
I stumble to the window and push back the curtains. Manhattan spreads out below me, just as busy and indifferent as ever. The Sterling Industries building rises like a steel and glass monument in the distance, its top floors catching the morning sun. The same building where I'll die in three years. Where Marcus will slide that blade between my ribs and tell me Omegas don't deserve power.
My legs give out. I sink onto the window seat, the same spot where I used to curl up with books as a child. The cashmere throw my grandmother knitted still smells like lavender and old paper. I pull it around my shoulders, seeking comfort in its familiar weight.
This has to be a dream. Some kind of dying hallucination. People don't just travel back in time. Especially not people like me.
I'm nobody special. Just Isabella Sterling, heir to Sterling Industries, born an Omega in a world ruled by Alphas. Weak. Submissive. Designed by nature to serve and follow, never to lead.
At least, that's what everyone always told me.
But as I sit here, wrapped in my grandmother's throw and staring at the city where I'll eventually die, I remember something else. Something that happened in those final moments before Marcus killed me.
The glass windows didn't just reflect the city lights. They reflected something else. A shadow moving behind Marcus. Someone else in the room, someone I couldn't see clearly because my vision was going dark.
Marcus wasn't alone when he murdered me.
Someone else was there. Someone who watched. Someone who maybe even gave the order.
I look down at my right palm. The crescent-shaped scar from my Omega blood ceremony should be there, permanent proof of what I am. The scar I've traced with my fingers a thousand times, a reminder of my place in the supernatural hierarchy.
It's gone.
My palm is smooth, unmarked. Like the ceremony never happened.
Like I'm exactly where I was three years ago, before everything went wrong.
Before I learned that the supernatural world has rules carved in stone: Alphas mate with Omegas. The bond is eternal. Bloodlines determine destiny. And Omegas like me exist to support and serve the Alphas who are born to rule.
Before I accepted Marcus Blackwood's proposal and started planning a wedding that would merge two of the five founding families.
Before I discovered that love and politics don't mix, especially when billion-dollar empires are at stake.
Before Marcus decided that killing me was easier than sharing power with an Omega.
My phone buzzes. A text from Sarah Ashford, my best friend: Happy birthday! Can't wait for brunch. I'm bringing your favorite chamomile tea. 💕
I stare at the message until the words blur. Sarah always brings me tea. She's been doing it for years, showing up with that little thermos of hers, claiming chamomile helps with my "stress levels." I never questioned it. Why would I? She's my best friend.
But now I remember something else. Something from those final moments in the penthouse, when Marcus thought I was too far gone to hear him talking to someone on the phone.
"The tea worked perfectly. She never suspected a thing."
My hand tightens around the phone. Sarah. Sweet, loyal Sarah who held my hair when I was sick and helped me pick out my engagement dress. Sarah who always seemed to know exactly when my "episodes" would hit, when I'd feel weak and dizzy and need to lie down.
Sarah who might have been drugging me for years.
The realization hits me like a physical blow. How many times did I feel inexplicably tired after drinking her tea? How many important meetings did I miss because of sudden headaches? How many times did I wonder why I felt so weak when other Omegas seemed stronger?
I was being poisoned by my best friend. Slowly, methodically, for reasons I can't even begin to understand.
I scroll through my contacts again and find Dr. Elena Rosewood. The pack doctor who delivered me, who's been taking care of my family since before I was born. Who pronounced my parents dead after their "accident." Who ran all those tests to confirm my Omega status.
Who looked me in the eye three years from now and told me there was nothing wrong with being weak.
My thumb hovers over her number. In my memories of the future, Dr. Rosewood's always been kind to me. Maternal, even. She has gentle brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and silver-streaked hair always pulled back in a perfect bun. She speaks in soothing tones and smells like antiseptic and herbs.
But I also remember something else. The way she smiled when Marcus announced our engagement. The way she volunteered to handle the "medical aspects" of our mating ceremony. The way she insisted on taking my blood samples personally, month after month, claiming she needed to monitor my "Omega health."
What if she wasn't monitoring my health at all?
What if she was monitoring something else entirely?
The more I think about it, the more details surface. Like how Dr. Rosewood always seemed to have the perfect explanation for my weakness. How she prescribed specific vitamins that made me feel even more tired. How she insisted on conducting my Omega certification ceremony in private, without witnesses.
How she always, always wanted my blood.
I set the phone aside and walk to my closet. My reflection catches me off guard in the full-length mirror. I look exactly like I did three years ago, before everything fell apart. Auburn hair that falls in waves to my shoulders. Green eyes that haven't learned to hide their thoughts yet. Smooth skin without the worry lines that will come from months of planning a wedding to a man who wants me dead.
But there's something different about my eyes now. They're harder. More knowing. They've seen things that this version of me hasn't experienced yet.
I look young. Hopeful. Naive.
I look like someone who still believes the world makes sense.
But I'm not that person anymore. I've seen what happens when you trust the wrong people. I've felt the cold bite of betrayal and the sharp edge of a silver blade. I've watched my blood pool on marble floors while the man I love explains why I have to die.
I know things now. Terrible things.
Like how Marcus's green eyes go flat and emotionless when he's about to kill someone.
Like how Dr. Rosewood's gentle smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.
Like how Sarah's hands shake when she lies.
And most importantly, I know that in exactly three years, one month, and twelve hours, Marcus Blackwood will drive a silver ceremonial blade through my heart in the name of protecting the natural order.
Unless I stop him.
I pull on jeans and a sweater, my hands steadier now that I have a plan. Or at least the beginning of one. First, I need to understand what happened to me. How I traveled back in time. Whether this is real or some kind of supernatural phenomenon I don't understand yet.
Time travel isn't supposed to exist in our world. Werewolves, vampires, witches—yes. But time manipulation? That's the stuff of human fantasy novels.
Unless it's not.
Unless there are powers in the supernatural world that even the five founding families don't know about. Powers that someone used to send me back here.
But who? And why?
Second, I need to figure out who I can trust. The list is shorter than I'd like.
Third, I need to learn everything I can about the people who betrayed me. Their weaknesses. Their secrets. Their plans.
And finally, I need to make sure that when October 13th, 2025 rolls around, I'm the one holding the knife.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's a calendar reminder: Sterling Industries Board Meeting, 10:00 AM. First official appearance as heir.
I remember this day perfectly now. My parents insisted I attend, said it was time for me to start taking a more active role in the family business. I was so nervous I threw up twice before we left the house. During the meeting, I sat quietly in the corner while the old men in expensive suits discussed quarterly projections and market strategies. I felt like a child playing dress-up in her mother's clothes.
Marcus was there too. He'd just graduated from Harvard Business School and was being groomed to take over Blackwood Enterprises. He kept catching my eye across the conference table, giving me encouraging smiles that made my stomach flutter with butterflies.
I was so young. So stupidly, ridiculously in love.
But that was before I knew what I know now.
Before I understood that Sterling Industries isn't just a financial empire. It's the cornerstone of supernatural politics in North America. The secret bridge between werewolf packs, vampire covens, and witch circles. The neutral ground where century-old treaties are negotiated and supernatural justice is dispensed.
Before I realized that the heir to Sterling Industries isn't just a business position.
It's a position of power that could reshape the supernatural world.
Power that Marcus and his allies will kill to keep away from an Omega.
The memory of that first board meeting takes on new significance now. I remember how Marcus's father, Alpha Gregory Blackwood, kept steering the conversation toward "traditional family values" and the importance of "strong leadership." How Dr. Rosewood, who sat on the board as our family's medical advisor, nodded approvingly at every suggestion that I should focus on "supporting roles" rather than actual leadership.
How my own parents seemed to agree with them.
They were already planning my downfall. Even then. Even when I was still young and naive and desperately in love with a boy who would one day murder me.
I grab my grandmother's silver locket from the jewelry box on my dresser. It's a small thing, heart-shaped and delicate, with a tiny photo of my grandparents inside. My grandmother used to tell me stories about how she and my grandfather met during World War II, how love could survive even the darkest times if you were brave enough to fight for it.
I always wear the locket when I need courage.
Today, I'm going to need all the courage I can get.
Because today is the day I start fighting back.
I fasten the locket around my neck and check my reflection one more time. I look like the same girl who used to sit quietly in board meetings and let other people make decisions about her life.
But appearances can be deceiving.
Isabella Sterling, the naive Omega who trusted everyone and questioned nothing, died three years in the future on a marble floor in Manhattan.
The woman who woke up in her place has work to do.
And the first item on her agenda is surviving the board meeting without revealing that she knows exactly what they're all planning.
The second is figuring out who sent her back in time and why.
The third is making sure she lives long enough to get her revenge.
I pick up my phone and scroll to Marcus's contact. For just a moment, I let myself remember what it felt like to love him. The way he used to look at me like I was the only person in the room. The way his voice got soft when he said my name. The way he held me after nightmares, promising he'd always protect me.
All lies. Every single word.
But I can use those lies now. I can pretend to be the same lovesick girl who believed in fairy tales and happy endings. I can smile and laugh and play the part of the trusting Omega while I gather information and plan my counterattack.
I can be the weapon they never saw coming.
My finger hovers over the call button. In a few hours, I'll see Marcus again for the first time since he killed me. I'll have to look into those green eyes and pretend I don't know what they're capable of.
I'll have to let him kiss me hello and act like his touch doesn't make my skin crawl.
But I can do it. I have to do it.
Because this time, I know the game. I know the players. And I know exactly how it ends.
The only question is whether I can change the ending before it's too late.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and head downstairs to face the people who think they've already won.
They have no idea what's coming for them.
End of Chapter 1