His Defiant Luna: The Cursed Prince's Ruthless Bride

Celena POV:

Alpha Heir Arlin Carlisle, my fiancé, slapped me in front of the entire Moonlight Gala because I had been found in bed with Prince Dante Carlisle, his crippled royal brother.

A sharp crack echoed, followed by a searing pain across my left cheek.

My head snapped to the side, the force of the blow rattling my teeth. The world swam back into focus, a dizzying blur of gold and crystal chandeliers.

My body felt like it was filled with lead. A heavy, sluggish feeling pulsed through my veins, my limbs refusing to obey. A quick internal scan, the kind of assessment I had performed countless times before I crossed into this body, told me the truth. Before I became Celena McLaughlin, I had been Celena too-a top battlefield doctor and forensic pathologist from a world of advanced technology. I knew the signs of sedation better than most people knew their own heartbeat.

Drugged.

"You filthy whore."

The voice was a low growl, laced with disgust. I blinked, my vision clearing enough to see Alpha Heir Arlin Carlisle looming over me. His handsome face, the one that graced the covers of every pack magazine, was twisted into an ugly sneer. His green eyes, usually so charming, were blazing with fury.

He grabbed a fistful of my silver hair, yanking my head back. Pain exploded at my scalp. I was forced to look up at him, my neck straining.

My gaze swept past him. We were in the grand hall of the Moonlight Gala. Hundreds of werewolves, the elite of the Azure Moon pack, stood frozen, their faces a mixture of shock, pity, and cruel amusement.

They were all staring at me.

I looked down at myself. My silk gown was torn at the shoulder, exposing my skin. I was a spectacle. A broken toy on display.

"Arlin, please, don't!" A softer voice pleaded.

My stepsister, Jaylin McLaughlin, rushed forward, her hands fluttering near Arlin's arm. Tears streamed down her perfectly made-up face. "She didn't mean it! My sister wouldn't do this!"

Arlin shoved her away. "Get out of my sight! This shameless bitch was screwing another man on the eve of our engagement announcement!"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The whispers started, a venomous hiss that crawled over my skin. Humiliation, hot and suffocating, choked me. I tried to speak, to deny it, but my throat was sandpaper. Only a dry croak came out.

Then, the memories hit me. Not my memories, but hers. The original Celena. A life of luxury, the pampered daughter of the pack's Gamma, a foolish, all-consuming crush on Arlin.

The last memory was crystal clear. Our maid, Polly Vance, handing her a glass of water. A single sip, and then... blackness.

I understood everything.

This was a setup.

Arlin raised his hand again, aiming for my other cheek. Instinct, honed on forgotten battlefields, took over. I twisted my head, the blow glancing off my hair.

His eyes widened in fury that I dared to dodge.

"You still have the nerve to resist?" he roared.

His foot slammed into my stomach.

The air rushed out of my lungs in a silent scream. I crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball as pain radiated through my abdomen. The impact tore through the last fragile barrier between two souls. The original Celena's terror, shame, and desperate love for Arlin flooded through me, and with them came the brutal certainty of what had happened. She had been drugged, framed, humiliated, and beaten until her soul could no longer hold on. When she died, I woke in her body. Same name. Different world. Different life.

I forced my eyes open, my vision sharp now. I scanned the crowd, memorizing every sneering face, every pair of mocking eyes.

My gaze finally landed on a figure in the shadows, away from the main crowd. A man in a wheelchair. Prince Dante Carlisle. His face was pale, his expression utterly detached, as if he were watching a mildly interesting play.

The original Celena's memories surged again, filling in what my drugged mind did not yet know. Dante Carlisle, the King's second son. Weak. Sickly. Crippled. Wolfless. The royal family's quiet shame. In every version of court gossip, he was harmless. That was why they had chosen him.

Arlin strode to the center of the hall, his voice booming with authority. "I, Arlin Carlisle, hereby announce that my engagement to Celena McLaughlin is void!"

The crowd murmured its approval.

He then turned, his expression softening as he looked at Jaylin. "A pure, kind woman like Jaylin is the only one worthy of being my future Luna."

A triumphant smirk flashed across Jaylin's face before she quickly masked it with a look of worried concern for me.

The pieces clicked into place. Jaylin, the mastermind. Polly, the pawn. Arlin, the arrogant, idiotic weapon.

I tried to push myself up, but my muscles screamed in protest.

Calm down, I told myself. A battlefield doctor doesn't panic. Analyze. Strategize. Survive.

Arlin stalked back to me, his shadow falling over my broken form. He looked down his perfect nose at me. "You were found in bed with that cripple, Dante. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I looked past him, straight toward the man in the wheelchair. I already knew Dante had been the other person in that bed. What mattered now was whether he had been a victim, an accomplice, or something far more dangerous.

For the first time, Dante's stillness changed. His fingers tightened once against the armrest of his wheelchair, and a faint crease appeared between his brows. But he said nothing.

This was more than just a simple frame-up to ruin me. This was a complex scheme, and they had used the most harmless member of the royal family as a tool.

I stopped struggling. I let the guards haul me to my feet, my arms held painfully behind my back. Arguing now was pointless. They had their narrative.

My violet eyes were dry. There were no tears left for this pathetic drama.

Arlin wanted an answer. The entire hall wanted me to beg, sob, or collapse.

I lifted my head, tasted blood on my tongue, and finally smiled.

Celena POV:

The guards' grip was rough, digging into my arms, but my mind was a block of ice. I stared directly at Arlin, my voice, though raspy from the drug, cutting through the whispers.

"On what grounds, Arlin, do you claim I betrayed you?"

He let out a short, ugly laugh. "On the grounds that I saw you with my own eyes, lying in a bed with Dante!"

Jaylin tugged on Arlin's sleeve again, her voice dripping with false pity. "Arlin, stop. You're embarrassing her."

"Arlin is right!" a shrill voice piped up. Amber Hayes, one of Jaylin's sycophants. "We all saw it! It was disgusting!"

Wallace Tucker, another of her cronies, sneered. "Gamma McLaughlin must be dying of shame."

I ignored them all. My eyes were locked on Arlin. "I asked for proof. All you saw was a drugged woman, incapable of defending herself."

The hall fell still. Several smiles faded. A few nobles exchanged uncertain glances.

Arlin's face darkened. "You expect me to believe your pathetic excuses?"

"Belief has nothing to do with it," I said, and with a sudden twist, I wrenched one arm free. I staggered but held my ground. "It's a matter of fact."

My gaze found Polly Vance cowering at the back of the crowd. She flinched, refusing to meet my eyes.

A cold smile touched my lips. I glanced at Dante in his corner. He had leaned forward slightly, his gray eyes sharper than before, fixed on the needle of movement at my hand. Whatever he had thought of me moments ago, I had his attention now.

I took a deep breath. My free hand moved before the guard beside me could react. I reached for the slim metal case fastened to his belt, the kind carried by pack guards for blood oaths, punishments, and silver restraint.

He jerked back too late.

I flipped the case open and drew out a narrow silver lancet.

A wave of fear washed over the hall. The crowd collectively recoiled. Werewolves and silver. It was poison. It was death.

Arlin's face went pale. "What are you doing? Are you trying to threaten me with suicide?"

Silver was anathema to our kind. It burned our skin, severed our connection to our inner wolves, and in large enough doses, it was fatal.

"Not suicide," I said, my voice steady as I held the lancet up. It glinted in the chandelier light. "Proof."

I turned my head, my eyes pinning Jaylin where she stood. "I was drugged with a substance known as 'Moonshadow Slumber.' It's odorless, tasteless, but its residue reacts to silver, turning it a distinct blue-black."

Jaylin's face lost all color. Her innocent expression collapsed, replaced by pure, unadulterated panic. She never imagined I would know about such an obscure poison.

"I will now pierce my own fingertip with this lancet," I announced, my voice ringing with authority. "If there is poison in my blood, the silver will change color. If there is not, I will accept the charge of disgracing myself with Prince Dante and be exiled for life."

The stakes were absolute. My life, my future, my very connection to my wolf.

Arlin was stunned into silence, his jaw slack.

The nobles erupted in frantic whispers. This was no longer a simple scandal. This was a trial by ordeal.

My eyes flickered between Jaylin and Polly. Both looked like they were about to faint.

I turned back to Arlin. I spoke each word with deliberate, chilling clarity. "Heir Apparent, do you accept my challenge? Because if you lose, this engagement will not be 'voided' by you. It will be annulled by me, Celena McLaughlin, in front of this entire pack."

I was taking back the power. I would not be rejected. I would be the one who walked away.

He was trapped. In our culture, to refuse a challenge sworn on one's own life was an act of cowardice. For an Alpha Heir, it was unthinkable.

He stared at me, his green eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and grudging respect. Finally, he ground out the words through clenched teeth.

"Fine. I accept."

I lowered my gaze to the lancet in my hand. The silver point was perfectly still. Good. Let them watch.

I ignored the gasps, the whispers, the terrified look on my stepsister's face. My world narrowed to the silver in my hand and the tip of my own finger.

With a steady hand, I brought the point of the lancet down.

Celena POV:

The hall was so quiet I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

I didn't flinch. The silver lancet slid into the fleshy tip of my index finger. A single, perfect drop of crimson welled up, clinging to the lancet's point.

Every eye in the room was fixed on that tiny, glistening bead of blood.

Time stretched, thick and heavy. One second. Two.

Then, it began.

A subtle darkening at the very tip of the lancet where it touched my blood. A wisp of inky color, like a drop of dye in clear water. It spread, blooming outward, turning from a faint blue to a deep, undeniable black.

The proof was absolute.

A tidal wave of noise crashed through the hall. "By the Moon Goddess!" "It's true!" "She was framed!"

Arlin's expression hardened. The disbelief lasted only a heartbeat before it was swallowed by a dark, dangerous fury. Beside him, Jaylin's legs gave out, and she would have collapsed if Amber Hayes hadn't caught her.

I raised my hand, the blackened lancet held high like a victor's standard. My voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of irrefutable truth. "The evidence is clear."

My gaze, cold as a winter storm, fell upon Arlin. "Heir Apparent. Do you have anything to say?"

His jaw clenched until a muscle jumped in his cheek. He said nothing, but the rage in his eyes was unmistakable. I was no longer a disgraced fiancée begging for mercy. I was a challenge to his authority, standing before the entire pack.

I didn't wait for his answer. I turned from him, my attention sweeping across the crowd until it landed on the trembling form of Polly Vance.

"Polly Vance," I called out, my voice like the crack of a whip. "You served me the water."

The maid shrieked and fell to her knees, banging her head on the marble floor. "No, my lady! It wasn't me! I swear!"

I let out a short, contemptuous laugh. I looked back at Arlin. "Arlin. I command you to seize this treacherous servant. Or have you lost all ability to reason?"

My tone was imperious, the command of a woman who expected to be obeyed.

Stung by my words and desperate to salvage any shred of his authority, Arlin waved a shaky hand at his guards. "Take her!"

Polly was dragged, kicking and screaming, to the center of the hall. Her terrified eyes pleaded with Jaylin for help.

Jaylin looked away, her face a sickly green.

I walked slowly toward the groveling maid. I crouched down, my torn dress pooling around me. "Who ordered you to do it?" I asked, my voice a soft, dangerous whisper.

Polly just sobbed, shaking her head.

I stood up, my patience gone. I addressed the guards. "Since she refuses to speak, she is useless. Take her outside and prepare the pyre. Let her execution be a warning to all."

The pyre. Execution by fire. The most brutal punishment, reserved for the worst of traitors.

A collective gasp of horror went through the crowd. This was not the spoiled, frivolous Celena they thought they knew. This was someone else entirely. Someone cold and ruthless.

That was all it took. Polly's resolve shattered.

"IT WAS HER!" she screamed, her finger pointing directly at my stepsister. "LADY JAYLIN! SHE MADE ME DO IT! SHE GAVE ME THE POISON!"

Every head in the room swiveled to face Jaylin.

"You lie!" Jaylin shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria. "You wretched creature, how dare you accuse me!"

I had what I needed. I turned my back on their pathetic squabbling and faced Arlin one last time.

"Arlin Carlisle," I declared, my voice resonating with finality. "As per our wager, I, Celena McLaughlin, do hereby formally annul our engagement. From this moment on, there is nothing between us."

Without another glance at his ashen face, I turned to the guards holding Polly. "Proceed."

Then, ignoring the pain in my stomach and the weakness in my legs, I walked. I walked through the stunned, parting crowd, my head held high.