The Sickly Alpha's Substitute Bride: His Unholy Obsession

ALETA POV:

The wind howled, a hungry wolf's cry against the cliff face, whipping my hair across my eyes like tiny lashes. My arm burned where the Rogue leader, Gunnar Thorne, gripped it. In his other hand, he held my stepsister, Justine.

We stood on the crumbling precipice, the roaring ocean far below. Before us stood Jamel Faulkner, Alpha of the Faulkner Pack. My husband. My Fated Mate.

"Let them go, Gunnar!" Jamel's voice was a thunderous roar, his Alpha aura pressing heavily against the gale. "Your brother Roric is my prisoner. You have my word on an exchange!"

Gunnar threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound that cut through the wind. "An exchange, yes. But a fair one. One life for one life."

Gunnar yanked both Justine-my sister and me forward. Because of our shared bloodline, we possessed the same dark hair, the same striking green eyes, and nearly identical features. To a stranger, we were reflections of each other.

"They look like twins, Alpha," Gunnar sneered, his claws digging into my shoulder. "I only care about my brother, and I will only trade him for your true Luna. Point her out. Tell me which one is your wife, and I will let her walk back to you. The other one goes over the edge."

The world seemed to hold its breath. I looked at Jamel, waiting for the immediate, instinctual claim of a mate. I waited for him to say my name, Aleta, the woman he had married.

Instead, I found agonizing hesitation. His gaze darted frantically between us, lingering on Justine's tear-stained face.

In that suffocating silence, the truth crystallized in my mind. He was going to abandon me.

Beside me, Justine trembled, playing the portrait of fragile terror perfectly. But as Gunnar shifted his grip, she leaned her head slightly toward mine. Under the cover of the howling wind, her voice slithered into my ear, a venomous, triumphant hiss.

"He will choose me, Aleta," she whispered, her breath hot against my cheek. "Do you know why? Because I am carrying his child."

A cold knot formed in my stomach, but I kept my face entirely impassive, listening to her poison.

Justine continued, her tone dripping with mockery. "And you? Married to him for years with a barren womb. Did you really think it was a curse from the Moon Goddess? Jamel has been slipping contraceptives into your meals since your wedding night. He never wanted your pups. He only ever wanted me."

The revelation was a blade to the heart, forging my lingering disbelief into pure, unadulterated ice. My inner wolf, Sera, snarled in the depths of my mind, demanding blood.

"Time is up, Alpha!" Gunnar barked. "Who is your wife?"

Jamel's hands clenched into fists. His eyes locked onto Justine, filled with a desperate, protective fervor.

"Justine," Jamel declared, his voice raw but loud enough to echo off the rocks. "Justine is my wife. Let her go."

A public rejection. A complete erasure of my existence.

Gunnar smirked, shoving Justine forward toward safety while his grip tightened on me, preparing to cast me into the abyss.

Justine stumbled forward, a fleeting, ugly smirk flashing across her lips as she looked back at me. She had won. Or so she thought.

I met her triumphant gaze, my expression terrifyingly calm. I leaned forward, my voice slicing through the space between us with lethal precision.

"Haven't you heard, Justine?" I asked, my tone dripping with dark amusement. "Villains always die because they talk too much."

Before Gunnar could react, before Jamel could even take a breath, I channeled every ounce of my remaining strength. I twisted violently, ripping my arm from Gunnar's claws, leaving a trail of blood in the air.

I lunged.

I slammed into Justine with the force of a battering ram. Her feigned sobs morphed into a genuine, piercing shriek of absolute terror as my arms locked around her waist in a deathly embrace.

The momentum carried us both over the crumbling edge.

We plunged into the void, tangled together like poisonous vines. The rushing wind, Jamel's enraged, horrified shout, and Justine's desperate screams all faded into a distant, meaningless roar.

Then, the freezing ocean rushed up to meet us, and darkness swallowed me whole.

ALETA POV

Pain.

A splitting headache ripped me back to consciousness. I gasped, my eyes flying open.

The familiar scent of fresh-cut grass and the lilies on my windowsill hit me instantly. I was in my old room at the Hebert Pack.

I sat up, my heart pounding. I looked down at my hands-smooth, unscarred, untouched by years of thankless labor and a loveless marriage.

I threw off the covers and rushed to the vanity mirror. The face staring back at me was my fifteen-year-old self.

A glance at the calendar pinned to the wall confirmed the impossible. Today was the day before the Festival of First Bloom-the exact day Jamel Faulkner was supposed to visit our pack for the first time.

I was reborn.

I had returned to the turning point of my destiny, five years in the past. The betrayal, the bone-deep cold of the ocean, the venomous truth of the contraceptives-it was all still vividly real, a phantom chill clinging to my soul.

I stood before the mirror for a long time, until a soft knock came at the door. It was Flora, my maid, reminding me it was time to prepare for the morning ceremony of the Festival of First Bloom.

"Come in," I said, my voice even.

I allowed her to dress me, my mind a placid lake. Flora was my mother's person, loyal to a fault. In my last life, she had been implicated in my troubles and eventually driven from the castle by Justine.

This life, I would protect everyone who had been kind to me.

Flora brought out the pale green dress I had worn in my past life. The dress I had chosen to please Jamel, the dress that had made me feel like a washed-out version of my vibrant stepsister. Looking at it now, I only felt a bitter amusement.

"Not that one," I said quietly. "The dark blue one."

Flora hesitated for a moment, surprised, but then nodded and fetched the other gown. It was a simpler style, the deep color making me look older, more reserved. More like myself.

I met Justine in the hallway. She was a vision in a dazzling white gown, a perfect, innocent white lily.

"Aleta, you look...different today," she said, her smile practiced. But her blue eyes held a flicker of sharp assessment, a probing look that did not belong on the face of a fifteen-year-old.

My heart gave a hard thump against my ribs.

That look. It was the same calculating expression I'd seen on her face countless times in my previous life, right before she ruined someone.

A horrifying thought struck me, cold and sharp.

Could she be reborn, too?

"Do I?" I lowered my gaze, feigning shyness. I twisted a fold of my skirt between my fingers, a nervous habit I'd had back then. "I suppose I'm a little nervous. Seeing Alpha Jamel and all."

At the mention of Jamel's name, Justine's smile tightened for a fraction of a second. A flash of jealousy and contempt, so quick it was almost invisible, crossed her features.

But I saw it.

And in that moment, I knew. She was back, too. She carried the memories of our past life, just as I did.

"Yes, Alpha Jamel will be there. I'm so happy for you, sister," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. She linked her arm through mine, as if we were the dearest of friends.

A wave of nausea rolled through me, but I didn't pull away. The game was just beginning. I needed to be patient.

We walked toward the ceremonial lawn together. Justine chattered endlessly about the eligible young men from the various Packs, but her words kept circling back to Jamel, how exceptional he was, what an honor it would be to be his mate.

I listened quietly, offering a soft murmur of agreement here and there, playing the part of the naive younger sister, star-struck and full of dreams.

The lawn was already crowded. I saw my father, Alpha Gilford of the Hebert Pack, speaking with a few of his elders, his expression stern. My mother, Evelyn, stood a short distance away, alone. Her simple dress made her seem out of place among the other lavishly dressed ladies.

A pang of pain shot through my chest. I quickened my pace, leaving Justine behind, and wrapped my arms around my mother from behind.

She started, then turned, her face softening into a gentle smile when she saw it was me. "Aleta, my sweet girl."

"Mother," I murmured, burying my face in her shoulder, breathing in her familiar, comforting scent. This was the warmth I had missed most of all. After my death, she was the one I couldn't bear to leave.

Justine glided over, chirping, "Mother Evelyn," but my mother only gave her a cool, polite nod.

I saw the flicker of resentment in Justine's eyes again. I knew she envied me. Her own mother had been nothing more than a mistress, long dead and forgotten, while I had all of Evelyn's love.

The ceremonial horns sounded. All the unmated young wolves gathered in the center of the lawn, awaiting the elders' blessing for the festival.

My eyes scanned the crowd. It didn't take long to find him.

Jamel Faulkner. He stood tall and proud in his Faulkner Pack uniform, the focus of every young woman's attention.

I could feel Justine practically vibrating with excitement beside me. She even smoothed her hair, a small, hopeful gesture.

My own heart was a stone in my chest. No fluttering, no longing. This was the man I had loved enough to die for? Looking at him now, he seemed...ordinary.

His gaze swept over the crowd of young women. When his eyes met mine, he gave a polite, distant nod. Then his gaze slid to Justine, and lingered.

I saw the look of absolute certainty on Justine's face.

ALETA POV:

After the morning ceremony, the younger wolves dispersed, mingling in the castle gardens and along the sunlit riverbank. It was our designated time to socialize and secure our futures.

Justine tugged on my arm, steering me with calculated precision toward the river's edge, right where Jamel Faulkner stood laughing with his elite warriors.

"Aleta, look," she murmured, her voice light and airy, a perfect imitation of innocence. "The moonstones in the river are so pretty."

She pointed to the smooth pebbles gleaming under the clear water, inching her way closer to the slick, moss-covered bank. The hem of her pristine white dress skimmed the surface.

I watched her performance with cold clarity. In my previous life, this exact spot marked the beginning of my nightmare. I had genuinely slipped on those treacherous rocks, and Jamel had dived into the freezing current to save me. In front of the entire pack, our wet, clinging bodies and public embrace were deemed a scandalous intimacy. Tradition dictated that such close physical contact ruined an unmarried female's reputation, forcing the male to marry the girl he had compromised. He married me, but resented me every single day, convinced I had trapped him.

Now, Justine intended to replicate my history. She wanted to orchestrate the accident, force the heroic rescue, and secure her place as his undeniable bride.

I maintained a serene expression, following her to the water's edge. I had absolutely no intention of letting her perfect romance play out.

My eyes scanned our surroundings, quickly locking onto the perfect instrument for my disruption: Bianca Foster, Jamel's cousin. A proud, fiercely competitive girl, Bianca stood nearby, watching Jamel and Justine with undisguised jealousy. As the daughter of a neighboring Alpha, her status was far above Justine's.

I positioned myself carefully between Justine and Bianca. Just as Justine's foot deliberately slid off the smooth stone, her delicate cry piercing the air as her body tilted toward the rushing river, I made my move.

I let out a sharp, terrified shriek of my own.

Feigning a violent startle from Justine's sudden fall, I stumbled backward, throwing my entire weight directly into Bianca.

"Ah!" Bianca shrieked, completely unprepared. She flailed wildly before tumbling backward into the river with a massive, ungraceful splash, hitting the water mere seconds after Justine.

"Oh, Goddess! Bianca!" I cried out, my hands flying to my mouth, my face a flawless mask of horror and innocence. "I am so sorry! Justine startled me!"

Jamel reacted instantly, moving to dive into the water. But as he reached the bank, he froze.

There were two girls thrashing in the freezing current.

Justine flailed delicately, her voice a pitiful cry. "Jamel, help me!"

But Bianca, a high-ranking member of his own family, sputtered and screamed with genuine panic. "Cousin Jamel! Help!"

Jamel's face darkened into a thundercloud. One was the girl he desired; the other his noble kin. With dozens of pack members watching, he could not prioritize a lowly stepsister over his Alpha uncle's daughter. The social fallout would be disastrous. Whispers erupted from the crowd. The situation had instantly transformed from a romantic opportunity into an exquisitely awkward political trap.

Finally, Jamel and one of his warriors jumped into the water, Jamel taking care of Justine and the werewolf warrior taking care of Bianca, and together they pulled the two soaking, shivering girls to the muddy riverbank.

Justine's grand scene of a hero saving his damsel had been thoroughly shattered, replaced by a ridiculous farce. When she was pulled onto the grass, her pristine dress ruined, she shot me a look of pure venom.

Bianca was a sobbing, humiliated mess, complaining loudly to Jamel while pointing a furious, accusing finger at me.

I shrank behind my mother, apologizing profusely, playing the terrified victim. My father, Gilford, frowned deeply, but seeing my tear-streaked face, he only offered a half-hearted reprimand before turning to smooth over the diplomatic mess.

No one suspected a thing. Who would ever imagine a quiet, fifteen-year-old girl could execute such a calculating maneuver?

Once the chaos subsided, I slipped away from the crowd, my heart light and triumphant. I walked back toward the castle along a secluded path, the image of Justine's ruined plan bringing me deep, satisfying pleasure.

This is only the beginning, Justine. I will take back control of my life, piece by piece.

As I rounded a corner near the garden walls, hushed voices caught my attention. Justine and her personal maid, Agnes. I quickly stepped behind a thick rose bush, blending into the shadows.

"...that bitch! She did it on purpose!" Justine's voice was a low, vicious snarl, entirely stripped of her usual gentle, airy tone.

"My lady, please calm yourself. Your ultimate goal is what matters most now," Agnes soothed, her voice a low murmur.

"My goal? She ruined my moment!" Justine hissed, pacing furiously on the gravel path. "I cannot have her here, constantly getting in my way."

Then, I heard Agnes's sly, venomous suggestion. "My lady, you are forgetting the royal decree. The royal family is actively seeking a mate for the sickly Prince Buren, are they not?"

"Prince Buren?" Justine's voice dripped with contempt. "The invalid they say will not live to see his twentieth birthday?"

"The very same," Agnes confirmed. "If we could persuade the Alpha to send Lady Aleta to the capital in your place... she would be gone for good. She would never trouble you again. Let her waste her youth watching over a dying cripple."

Justine paused, and a slow, cruel laugh escaped her lips. "An excellent idea. Let her live in a gilded cage, trapped in a miserable, loveless duty."

I leaned against the cool stone wall as their footsteps faded into the distance, a slow, genuine smile spreading across my own face.