Reborn To Choose The True Alpha Mate

Elara's POV:

The searing heat was the first thing I knew.

It wasn't just heat. It was a physical weight, a crushing force that stole the air from my lungs and replaced it with thick, black smoke. Every breath was a fresh agony, a thousand tiny needles scraping the inside of my throat.

A heavy, charred beam lay across my legs. I felt the sickening crunch of bone through the haze of pain.

I was going to die here.

But then, as if the fire had spent its rage, the flames slowly receded, licking at the remaining timbers before dying down to smoldering embers. The roar softened to a whisper, and the scorching heat lifted just enough for me to draw a shallow, rattling breath.

Through the thinning haze, two figures emerged from the gloom. They moved with an unnatural calm, untouched by the inferno that was consuming my home.

My stepsister, Betsey. And then there's my Beta fiancé. Jarod Hurst-the man for whom I gave up a betrothal to the most powerful Alpha in the pack, and stubbornly insisted on being with.

"My dear sister," Betsey's voice was a sweet poison, cutting through the roar of the flames. "You look an absolute mess."

Her emerald eyes, usually so full of gentle light, danced with a vicious glee. She was perfect, her silken dress free of soot, her golden hair gleaming in the firelight.

Jarod stood beside her, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. He looked down at me, his handsome face twisted into a sneer of contempt. The same man who had sworn to love me just yesterday.

A desperate, guttural sound escaped my throat as I tried to shift, to move, to do anything. The pain in my legs exploded, a white-hot flash that blacked out my vision for a second.

Betsey knelt, her movements graceful. She reached out and stroked my soot-stained cheek, her touch a mockery of affection. "Did you know? Father's Alpha heart failing... it wasn't an accident."

The world tilted. My father, the powerful Alpha Jonathan Beaumont, dead just a month ago.

Jarod chuckled, a low, cruel sound. "A little extract of wolfsbane in his nightly wine. Just a drop. Not enough to kill him outright, but enough to ensure his heart wouldn't survive another Shift."

The memory slammed into me. The attack by stray wolves a month ago. Father, forcing the change to protect us, his roar of agony as his heart burst in his chest.

It wasn't a hero's death. It was murder.

"And our loyal pack warriors," Betsey continued, her voice light and airy, as if discussing the weather. "A pinch of silver dust in the well water. Just enough to make them weak."

She giggled, a sound like shattering glass. "They couldn't even lift their swords before the rogues tore them apart. It was quite a show."

My stomach churned, a knot of bile and horror.

Jarod kicked at a piece of burning debris, revealing the Beaumont family crest carved into the floorboards beneath. He ground his heel into it, deliberately, grinding the stone to dust.

"Your stupidity was our greatest weapon," he spat, his voice dripping with scorn. "Did you really think I would ever want a mate who couldn't even read a pack's financial report?"

His words were a dagger to my heart. Foolish. Useless. A pretty decoration. The same words my father and the elders had used for years.

"Don't be so cruel, darling," Betsey said, pulling a lace handkerchief from her sleeve. She dabbed at her perfectly clean hands. "It was sister's trust that gave you control of the household finances. How else could you have emptied our vaults to pay off those lovely rogues?"

Every memory of the past year replayed in my mind, twisted and grotesque. Every act of trust, every shared secret, was just another nail in my coffin.

I forced my head up, the smoke tearing at my eyes. "Why?" The word was a raw, broken whisper.

For the first time, Betsey's perfect mask cracked. Her face contorted with a jealousy so potent it was almost a physical force. "Why? Because you were born an Alpha, with everything handed to you! While I was just an Omega. My mother, just a second choice, a secret mate."

"And now," Jarod declared, pulling her close and kissing her forehead, "everything is ours."

Betsey's eyes found a smoldering piece of wood on the floor. She picked it up, the end glowing like a demon's eye. She brought it close to my face, slow, deliberate. I could feel the skin on my cheek begin to blister, the smell of my own burning flesh filling my nostrils.

She savored the terror in my eyes. "Do you know the funniest part?" she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. "Donnie Sinclair. The powerful Alpha who is so very in love with you. Your former fiancé. He's riding here now, with all his warriors, to save the day."

Donnie. The name was a fresh wave of pain. The only warmth in my cold, lonely life.

"Such a shame," Betsey cooed. "All he'll find is your corpse."

She smiled, a beautiful, deadly thing.

"Farewell, sister."

She dropped the burning brand onto my chest.

Fire consumed me. The pain was absolute, a universe of agony. But through it, my hatred burned hotter. I stared at their retreating backs, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, and I swore an oath to the Moon Goddess.

If there is another life, I will find you. I will make you suffer. I will grind your bones to dust.

My body felt like it was being torn apart, my soul ripped from its failing vessel.

Darkness.

And then, nothing. The burning, the smoke, the suffocation-it all vanished.

A rush of cold, clean air filled my lungs.

I gasped, and my eyes flew open.

Elara's POV:

I shot up in bed, my breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

My hands flew to my chest, my legs, my face. There was no pain. No burns. Just the cool, smooth feel of silk against my skin. My legs were whole, tangled in the soft sheets of my bed.

My eyes darted around the room.

It wasn't a ruin. It was my bedroom. My opulent, familiar bedroom in the Beaumont estate, with its heavy velvet curtains and the scent of white roses hanging in the air. Sunlight streamed through a crack in the curtains, a golden spear in the dim light.

I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush rug. I stumbled to the vanity, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

The girl in the mirror was me. Younger, her face pale and drawn, but alive. Unscarred. Around her neck, resting against her collarbone, was the moonstone pendant my mother had left me.

My fingers trembled as I touched my own cheek. It was real. This was real.

My gaze fell on the small, leather-bound calendar on my nightstand. My blood ran cold.

The date was ten years in the past. The day after my twenty-first birthday.

I was reborn on the day it all began.The day my carriage axle broke, causing me to get injured.

A soft knock sounded at the door. "Miss? Are you awake? The Alpha requests your presence in the main hall."

Cora.

My loyal attendant, Cora Hayes. Alive. Her voice was not a distant, painful memory. It was real, just on the other side of the door. In my previous life, Jarod had murdered her for trying to protect me.

Tears pricked my eyes, hot and sudden. I choked them back, forcing my voice to be steady. "I'll be down shortly."

I turned to my wardrobe. Before, I would have chosen a beautiful, restrictive gown to please my father. Today, my hands went straight to a set of practical, tailored riding leathers.

My inner wolf, dormant for so long in my previous life, stirred in my mind. A low growl of warning, of rage, echoed in my skull.

Calm down, Elara, I told myself, my voice a silent whisper in my own head. You have the greatest weapon of all. You know everything that is to come.

I walked to the window and peered through the curtains. Below, pack warriors patrolled the grounds, their steps sure and strong. They were all alive. I saw my father's Beta, Leo Foster, a man of unwavering loyalty, drilling new recruits. He had been silenced, too, for getting too close to the truth.

A deep, shuddering breath escaped me. I pushed down the tidal wave of grief and rage, channeling it into a cold, hard resolve. My reflection in the window showed a new light in my eyes. The naive girl was gone, burned away in the fire.

The door opened and Cora entered. She paused, her eyes widening slightly at my choice of attire. "Miss, you look terribly pale. Are you feeling unwell?"

I shook my head, my gaze fixed on her young, kind face. "I'm fine, Cora." I swore a silent vow. This time, I would protect you. I would protect all of them.

I stepped out of my room and into the familiar hallway. My mother's portrait hung on the wall, her smile gentle and sad. In my first life, I had accepted the story that she had simply wasted away from a sickness. Now, I knew better. Her death was another piece of the puzzle.

My fingers found the cool, smooth surface of the moonstone pendant at my throat. I twisted it, the familiar weight a small comfort.

From the end of the hall, I heard my father's booming voice, thick with anger. The fawning tone of his most beloved wife, my stepmother Audra Vance, and the soft, insincere sobs of my sister Betsey were all mixed in.

A small, cold smile touched my lips.

I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and walked towards the main hall. Each step was deliberate, firm. I was not the timid girl who would have scurried down this hall, dreading her father's temper.

I knew what waited for me. A carefully laid trap.

Elara's POV:

The moment I stepped into the main hall, a heavy silence fell.

My father, Alpha Jonathan Beaumont, sat on the high-backed chair at the head of the long oak table. His face was a thundercloud, his knuckles white where he gripped the Alpha's signet ring on his finger.

Audra Vance was pressed against his side, her eyes red-rimmed as if she'd been weeping for my sake.

And Betsey. My perfect, treacherous sister stood near the fireplace, her shoulders trembling delicately. When she saw me, a flicker of triumph, quickly masked, flashed in her eyes.

"You have the nerve to dress for a ride?" my father's voice boomed, shaking the very air. "After the disgrace you've brought upon this family?"

The Elara of the past would have flinched. She would have dropped to her knees and begged for forgiveness.

I did not.

I stood my ground, my gaze meeting his without a trace of fear.

Betsey rushed forward, her face a mask of frantic concern. She grabbed my hand. "Oh, sister, are you alright? When I heard your carriage overturned, I was worried sick!" Her hand was cold, her touch like a snake's skin.

I gently but firmly pulled my hand from her grasp.

The small act of rejection made her falter. Her perfectly rehearsed performance had hit a snag.

My voice, when I spoke, was clear and cold, cutting through the tension in the room. "I'm fine. But I am curious, Betsey. How did my carriage just 'happen' to have its axle break on that deserted mountain road?"

My question hung in the air. Audra and Betsey both stiffened, their expressions momentarily losing their composure.

"Because you spend your days in frivolous pursuits instead of attending to your duties!" my father roared, slamming his fist on the table. The signet ring clacked loudly against the wood. "The entire town is laughing at us! You've shamed the Beaumont name!"

"Jonathan, please, don't be angry," Audra cooed, placing a placating hand on his arm. "Elara didn't mean for it to happen. She's just... young." Her words were oil on the fire, painting me as an irresponsible child.

My eyes shifted to her, a small, mocking smile playing on my lips. "Audra, if I recall correctly, the head steward, Mr. Finch, is responsible for the maintenance of all pack vehicles. And Mr. Finch reports directly to you."

Audra's smile froze. She hadn't expected me to fight back, let alone with logic.

"Sister, how can you say such a thing to Audra?" Betsey gasped, rushing to her mother's defense. "She cares for you more than anyone!"

I looked at Betsey's innocent, angelic face and saw the monster beneath. I remembered her smile as I burned.

"Does she?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft. "Does she care so much that the first thing she did after my 'accident' was run to father with tales of my carelessness, instead of sending a healer?"

Every word was a precisely aimed dart. Betsey's face went white.

My father's rage boiled over. He rose to his feet, unleashing the full force of his Alpha command. "Enough! Elara, you will apologize to your sister and Audra this instant!"

The pressure was immense, a physical weight designed to force submission. A lesser wolf would have been on their knees, whimpering. But I was of his blood, and my heart was forged in the fires of betrayal.

I did not move. I did not even flinch.

Instead, I took a step forward. My voice was not loud, but it resonated with an unshakeable certainty. "Father, this was not an accident."

The air in the hall seemed to crystallize.

"This," I said, my eyes locking onto Audra's, then Betsey's, "was an attempted murder. And I demand a full pack investigation."

I saw it then. The flicker of shock in my father's eyes. The rigid terror on Audra's face. And in Betsey's wide, innocent eyes, the first glimmer of pure, unadulterated panic.

This was the moment. In my past life, this "accident" was the beginning of my end. They used it to strip me of my inheritance, to ruin my name.

This time, it would be the beginning of theirs.

My father was stunned into silence by the word "murder." He was a weak Alpha, easily manipulated, but the public accusation of a crime so severe left him momentarily paralyzed.

I knew I had to act before they regrouped, before they could convince him to bury it.

I turned to the guard standing at attention by the door. My voice rang with an authority I never knew I possessed.

"Go to the town precinct. Bring Officer Reynolds here. Now."