Reborn Luna_ I Chose the Alpha King Over the Man Who Destroyed Me

The scream tore from my throat as I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape. Cold sweat clung to my skin, and for a moment, the boundaries between dream and reality blurred into a nauseating haze.

Colton's voice still echoed in my ears—those words that had shattered my world twenty years too late: "I've always loved Violet. I married you because I had to, Harper. But my heart... my heart was never yours."

I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to stop the memories from flooding back. The way he'd looked at her during our anniversary dinner. The gentle touch he'd given her shoulder when she'd cried about her latest heartbreak. The lie I'd lived for two decades, believing I was loved when I was nothing more than a convenient arrangement.

But something was wrong. Terribly, impossibly wrong.

The room around me wasn't the master bedroom of the Ashford estate where I'd spent the last twenty years of my life. The walls were painted the soft lavender I'd loved as a teenager, not the stark white Colton had insisted upon. My vanity held the collection of vintage perfume bottles my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday—bottles that had been packed away years ago when Colton deemed them "childish clutter."

My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, and the date on the screen made my blood run cold: March 15th. Six months before the Luna Selection ceremony. Six months before I'd walked down the aisle in that suffocating white dress, believing I was marrying for love.

I was twenty-two again.

The realization hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Somehow, impossibly, I'd been given a second chance. The Moon Goddess had heard my dying prayer—because I remembered dying, remembered the crushing weight of betrayal stopping my heart as surely as any blade.

"Think, Harper," I whispered to myself, forcing my breathing to steady. "Think."

I couldn't waste this gift on hysteria. I had to be smart this time. Strategic. The Harper who had chased after Colton Ashford like a lovesick puppy, who had embarrassed herself at pack gatherings trying to win his attention, who had let Violet manipulate her into looking like a fool—that Harper was dead.

I remembered it all now with painful clarity. How I'd thrown myself at Colton during his friends' poker nights, desperate to be the perfect hostess, only to spill wine on his business partner's suit. How Violet had "accidentally" revealed my crush to the entire pack during the Harvest Moon celebration, making me the subject of pitying whispers for months. How his mother had looked at me during family dinners—not with malice, but with the resigned disappointment of someone forced to accept damaged goods.

Never again.

A soft knock on my bedroom door interrupted my thoughts. "Harper, sweetheart? Are you awake?" My mother's voice carried that particular note of excitement that meant she had news.

"Come in, Mom." I smoothed my hair and tried to look like someone who hadn't just experienced a cosmic revelation.

Eleanor Sinclair swept into the room with her usual grace, her silver hair perfectly styled despite the early hour. In her hands, she carried a leather portfolio that made my stomach clench with recognition.

"I have wonderful news," she began, settling onto the edge of my bed with barely contained enthusiasm. "The Ashford family has agreed to meet with us tomorrow to discuss potential matches."

She opened the portfolio with a flourish, revealing three photographs arranged like a deck of cards. Three handsome faces stared up at me, each representing a different path, a different future.

"Marcus is the youngest," Mom explained, pointing to the first photo. "Twenty-five, just finished his business degree. He's charming, though perhaps a bit... frivolous."

Marcus Ashford. I remembered him vaguely from pack gatherings—always laughing, always surrounded by admirers, but with the depth of a puddle. In my previous life, I'd dismissed him immediately.

"Then there's David," she continued, moving to the second photograph. "Thirty, very serious about pack politics. He's being groomed for a position on the Council."

David had cold eyes and a calculating smile. I'd heard whispers about his treatment of omegas, about servants who'd mysteriously disappeared from his household. The thought of being tied to him made my skin crawl.

"And of course, there's Colton." Mom's voice took on a dreamy quality as she touched the third photo. "Heir to the Ashford fortune, devastatingly handsome, and I've heard he's quite taken with you already."

Colton's face smiled up at me from the photograph—those green eyes that had once made my heart race, that strong jaw I'd traced with my fingers on countless nights, believing I was touching love itself. Now, looking at him, I felt nothing but a cold, hollow ache.

"So, darling," Mom said, clasping her hands together, "which one catches your fancy? I know it's a big decision, but—"

"None of them."

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and Mom's face fell like a stone.

"None of them? Harper, what do you mean? These are the three most eligible bachelors in the Ashford family. Any one of them would be a magnificent match."

I reached into the pocket of my nightgown—a habit from my previous life where I'd always carried a small photo of Colton like some besotted teenager. But this time, my fingers found something different. A photograph I'd torn from a pack newsletter years ago and forgotten about until this moment.

Slowly, I pulled out the fourth photo and placed it on the bed beside the others.

Mom's gasp filled the silence like a gunshot.

"Killian?" Her voice cracked on the name. "Harper, that's... that's Colton's uncle. He's not... he wasn't part of the selection process."

I stared down at the photograph of Killian Ashford. Even in the grainy newspaper print, his presence was magnetic—dark hair streaked with premature silver, eyes like winter storms, and a face that spoke of power earned through blood and sacrifice. They called him the Blood Alpha for good reason. At thirty-seven, he'd never taken a mate, never shown interest in the political games that consumed the rest of his family.

He was dangerous. Unpredictable. And most importantly, he was the one person in the Ashford family who could protect me from all the others.

"He's fifteen years older than you," Mom continued, her voice rising with panic. "And the stories they tell about him... Harper, they say he's killed men with his bare hands. They say he's never shown mercy to anyone who's crossed him."

"I know exactly who he is," I said quietly, meeting her horrified gaze. "And my decision won't change."

The words hung in the air between us like a declaration of war. In my previous life, I'd been a romantic fool, chasing after a love that had never existed. This time, I would be practical. Strategic. If I was going to bind myself to the Ashford family, it would be to the one man who could give me real power.

The one man who could help me destroy Violet and Colton both.

Mom stared at me as if I'd grown a second head, but before she could voice another protest, my phone buzzed against the nightstand. The caller ID made my blood freeze: Colton Ashford.

I looked at his name flashing on the screen, remembering how that sight used to make me giddy with excitement. How I'd rush to answer before the second ring, desperate to hear his voice, to pretend that his attention meant something more than obligation.

Not anymore.

I reached over and pressed the decline button, watching his name disappear from the screen. The small act of defiance sent a thrill through me that was better than any drug.

Let him wonder. Let him worry.

This time, Harper Sinclair would not be anyone's consolation prize.