The drums began at sunset.
Deep.
Steady.
Unforgiving.
Ayra stood behind the heavy wooden doors of the ceremonial hall, her hands ice cold.
It still happened.
Despite her warning.
Despite her fear.
Despite her attempt to stop it.
The ceremony had not changed.
Torches lined the stone walls. Pack members filled the hall. Visiting Alphas and their entourages stood along the edges, watching with sharp eyes.
This was not only a bonding ritual.
It was a display of power.
And she was at the center of it.
Her breathing felt thin.
No forest yet.
No blade.
But her heart already felt stabbed.
A maid adjusted the silver clasp at Ayra's shoulder.
"You look beautiful," the woman whispered.
Ayra forced a faint smile.
Beautiful did not matter.
Not tonight.
The doors opened.
The drums grew louder.
She stepped forward.
Every eye in the hall turned toward her.
The sound of hundreds of people shifting echoed across the stone.
In her last life, she had walked this path with hope.
Now she walked it with dread.
She kept her back straight.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Vincent stood at the raised platform.
Tall.
Still.
Dressed in ceremonial black and silver.
He looked powerful.
Untouchable.
When his gaze met hers, something flickered in his eyes.
Not hatred.
Not cruelty.
Something conflicted.
That small difference made her stomach twist.
In her memory, his face had been colder.
Harder.
Tonight, he looked… tense.
The head elder stepped forward and raised his staff.
"We gather to witness the formal union of Alpha Vincent and Ayra of the Silver Line."
The crowd murmured approval.
Ayra's pulse roared in her ears.
She reached the platform and stood opposite Vincent.
Close enough to feel the heat of him.
Close enough to see the tightness in his jaw.
The elder began the formal words.
Ancient promises.
Sacred vows.
Strength.
Unity.
Protection.
Ayra barely heard them.
Her mind replayed what would come next.
The choice.
The public affirmation.
Or the rejection.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Vincent's hands were clenched at his sides.
She noticed that now.
He had not been that tense before.
Why?
The elder turned to Vincent first.
"Alpha Vincent. Do you accept Ayra as your Luna, your equal, your partner before this pack and before the Moon?"
Silence swallowed the hall.
Ayra's heart stopped.
This was it.
This was the moment that destroyed her.
Vincent did not answer immediately.
A ripple of confusion moved through the crowd.
His gaze locked onto hers.
Deep.
Searching.
As if he wanted to say something else.
As if he was fighting something inside himself.
Her breath shook.
For a fraction of a second, hope betrayed her again.
Maybe this time,
Maybe,
Vincent's voice rang out, strong and clear.
"I do not accept."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Gasps erupted across the hall.
Ayra's knees nearly buckled.
Even knowing it would happen did not lessen the pain.
It burned.
Sharp and humiliating.
The elder stared at Vincent in shock. "Alpha"
"I do not accept this union," Vincent repeated firmly.
His voice did not waver.
The hall exploded into whispers.
Some were shocked.
Some scandalized.
Some are satisfied.
Ayra felt every stare like a wound.
Her face burned.
Her throat closed.
But she did not cry.
Not this time.
Vincent turned toward the crowd.
"This decision is mine," he declared. "The pack's future requires strength and clarity. I will not bind myself without certainty."
Certainty.
The word sliced deeper.
The elder turned slowly to Ayra.
"Ayra," he said carefully, "do you have a response?"
In her last life, she had stood frozen.
Speechless.
Broken.
Then she ran.
Tonight, her heart pounded wildly.
This is where it changes.
Her humiliation still burned.
But something else rose beneath it.
Anger.
Not at Vincent alone.
At the helplessness.
At fate repeating itself.
At dying like prey.
She lifted her chin.
Her voice trembled at first.
But she forced it steady.
"I accept his decision."
The hall quieted slightly.
She stepped forward.
Close enough that only Vincent could hear her next words.
"You will regret it," she whispered softly.
Not as a threat.
As a promise.
His eyes flashed.
Surprise.
Something almost like pain.
She turned to the crowd.
"I will not beg for a place beside a man who doubts me," she said clearly.
Murmurs spread again.
This was new.
Last time, she had not spoken at all.
Vincent's jaw tightened.
For the first time, he looked unsettled.
Ayra stepped down from the platform on her own.
Slow.
Controlled.
Every step is heavy but deliberate.
The humiliation still crushed her chest.
But she did not run.
Not yet.
Behind her, the elder tried to regain control of the ceremony.
But the damage was done.
The public rejection stood.
As she reached the large doors, Vincent's voice cut through the noise.
"Ayra."
She paused.
The hall fell silent again.
She did not turn around immediately.
When she finally did, their eyes met across the distance.
Something was different.
In her memory, he had looked indifferent.
Tonight, he looked conflicted.
Almost angry.
But not at her.
At something else.
"You should remain inside," he said evenly.
The words sounded like a command.
But there was tension under them.
Concern.
Her stomach dropped.
Last time, he had not stopped her.
Last time, he had let her leave alone.
Why was he stopping her now?
The crowd waited.
Watching.
Judging.
If she obeyed, she would look weak.
If she refused, she would look reckless.
Her heart pounded painfully.
"I will take care of myself," she replied calmly.
His eyes darkened.
That small exchange shifted something invisible between them.
A crack in the pattern.
She turned and walked out.
The doors closed behind her with a heavy thud.
The cool evening air hit her face.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
It still happened.
The rejection.
The shame.
But this time, she had not stood silent.
This time, he looked different.
This time, he had told her to stay.
Her pulse quickened.
In her previous life, she had run straight into the forest.
Tonight, she forced herself to stop on the steps.
Think.
If she followed the same path, she would die again.
She turned slightly.
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement near the edge of the courtyard.
A shadow slipping away too quickly.
Her blood turned cold.
Someone was already watching.
Waiting.
Just like before.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
It was happening again.
But now she saw it.
This time,
She was not blind.