Rejected by the Alpha Prince, Claimed by the Wolf Duke

The glacial water of the Moon Lake filled my throat, pulling me down into the sunless depths.

Through the churning water, I saw Silas, the Alpha Crown Prince, standing on the shore, watching me drown.

In our past life, he dove in, triggering a fated bond that forced us to marry. I spent decades bleeding for his kingdom as his Luna, but he only ever loved my older sister, Isabella.

"You have laboured hard."

That was all he whispered on my deathbed. Not that he loved me. He spent his whole life mourning my sister's accidental death.

Now, as my lungs burned, a dreadful clarity hit me—he remembered. We had both been reborn to the night of the Mating Ball.

He wanted to fix his mistake. He meant to let me die, erasing the faulty beginning of our story so he could finally choose my sister.

I didn't feel sad or angry. Instead, the immense burden of my past life began to dissolve in the murky water.

If he wished to sever this twisted cord of fate, I would gladly lend him the blade.

I jammed a silver pin into my leg to kick free of my heavy boots and swam into the black heart of the lake.

This time, I would never let him use me again.

I would gladly hand him over to my sister, and marry the terrifying, "degenerate" Duke of the North instead.

Chapter 1

Seraphina POV

The glacial water of the Moon Lake filled my nose and throat, a shock so profound it felt like swallowing ice.

The cold was a physical weight, seeping through the boning of my heavy lace corset and pulling me down into the sunless depths.

I fought to open my eyes. Through the churning, murky water, I saw a figure silhouetted against the moon on the shore.

It was Silas. The Alpha Crown Prince of the Royal Pack.

He was looking down at the place where the ripples of my fall still spread. His amber eyes, which I had known for a lifetime, were flat and hard as gemstones.

Then, he turned his back and walked away.

He did not jump in to save me.

My lungs began to burn, but the searing pain brought with it a moment of dreadful clarity. He had not jumped. The man who, in a past life, would have flown into a rage if I'd so much as scraped my knee, now stood with his back to the lake. An absurd, yet singular thought, like a noxious weed, began to sprout in my mind—he remembered.

Silas had been reborn, just like I had.

Only an hour ago, I was an old woman lying on my deathbed.

In my past life, Silas was my husband. I was his Luna, the mother of the Royal Pack.

For decades, I managed the castle, balanced the finances, and bled for his kingdom.

But I was never the woman he truly wanted.

Silas had always loved my older sister, Isabella.

Tonight was the Mating Ball, an old rite where the moon was said to guide unwed wolves to their fated partners.

In my past life, Isabella spilled red wine on her lavish dress. She panicked and forced me to swap cloaks with her.

While I stayed by the lake to wash the stain, Isabella's rival sent a maid to push me into the water.

In that life, Silas saw the cloak. Thinking I was Isabella, he dove in.

When he pulled me out, our drenched skin met. It was not a spark, but a deep, resonant thrum that passed between us—the undeniable pull of a fated bond.

The Old King and the Elders saw us shivering in each other's arms. Driven by ancient werewolf laws, they forced us to mate.

Isabella was furious. She married a useless noble out of spite.

A few years later, her carriage was attacked by Rogues.

They were the unthinking exiles of our world—their forms caked in mud and gore, hissing nonsensically, having shed the last vestiges of their lupine dignity.

Isabella was torn to pieces. Silas spent the rest of his life mourning her, looking for her shadow in my eyes.

On my last night, he sat by my bed and whispered, "You have laboured hard."

Not "I love you." Just that.

Then I closed my eyes and woke up falling into this freezing lake.

Now, watching Silas walk away in his dark velvet suit, I understood.

He wanted to fix his mistake. He meant to let me drown, to erase the faulty beginning of our story at the bottom of this lake. He was not merely cruel—he was terrified. If I lived, the bond might ignite again. Only my death could guarantee his freedom to choose Isabella.

A bitter laugh tried to form in my throat, but it came out as a desperate gasp for air.

I did not feel sad. I did not feel angry.

Instead, I felt the immense burden of my past life—the endless ledgers, the courtly intrigues, the weight of his unspoken grief for my sister—begin to dissolve in the murky water around me.

If he wished to sever this twisted cord of fate, I would lend him the blade.

I stopped clawing for the surface. Water weeds tangled around my ankles, but I ceased my struggle. I had survived assassinations, wars, and Pack rebellions. A lungful of cold water was a quiet thing by comparison.

I snapped a steel rib from the boning of my own corset, jammed the sharp point into my calf, and used the clarifying pain to kick free of my waterlogged leather boots. Then I swam, not towards the moonlit surface, but deeper, into the black heart of the lake.

I was going to survive. And this time, I would never let another Alpha use me again.

As the darkness closed over my head, one thought burned brighter than the cold: Silas believed he was rewriting our fate by letting me die. He had no idea that his choice would be the very thing that set me free.