Chapter 2 Rebirth

• I didn't just look at the calendar; I ripped it from the wall. The paper crinkled in my fist, a small, violent sound in the pre-dawn stillness.
• Three days ago, I wasn't a corpse on a cold stone floor. I was a servant in the Alpha’s estate, tucked away in a room that smelled of lemon wax and my own lingering fear.
• I crossed to the washstand and plunged my face into the basin. The water was ice-cold, shocking my skin into reality. I gripped the porcelain edges until the shaking in my hands stopped. In the first life, the one that ended with a blade, I would have spent this morning nursing the hollow ache of Caspian’s rejection. I would have moved like a shadow, trying to be small enough that he wouldn't notice my existence.
• Today, I reached for my boots.
• I dressed in my thickest trousers and a dark, high-collared shirt that hid the crescent mark on my collarbone. I didn't want to be "The Marked One" today. I wanted to be a ghost that bites.
• I opened my door and stepped into the corridor.
• The estate was already humming. The scent of woodsmoke and frying bacon drifted up from the kitchens, such ordinary, domestic smells that felt like a mockery. I hadn't even reached the stairs before a sharp voice cut through the air.
• "Theresa! Why aren't you in the laundry? The Alpha’s linens were supposed to be stripped ten minutes ago."
• I froze. It was Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper. In the old timeline, her scoldings had made me stammer apologies. Now, I turned slowly to look at her. She stood there with her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed with the practiced disdain one reserved for a low-ranking wolf who had the misfortune of being the Alpha’s "fated" mistake.
• "I'm going," I said. My voice was different, lower, but steadier.
• Mrs. Gable blinked, her brow furrowing. "Well, don't just stand there staring like a confused pup. Move! And make sure you don't use the scented starch. You know how the Alpha hates it."
• I walked past her, my shoulder brushing hers. She gasped at the lack of deference, but I didn't stop to apologize.
• As I descended the back stairs toward the kitchens, I saw them. Mira and Donal.
• They were standing by the large oak prep table, laughing at something a younger guard was saying. Mira looked so bright, and so innocent. Donal was leaning against the wall, the same hands that had warded me off like a plague now holding a steaming mug of coffee.
• My stomach turned a slow, sickening somersault. To them, I was just Theresa, the quiet girl who worked the archives and lived on the fringes. They didn't know they were traitors yet. They didn't know that in seventy-two hours, they would watch me die and feel nothing but relief.
• "Morning, Tess," Mira called out, her smile wide and fake. "You look like you saw a ghost. Late night in the archives again?"
• I stopped. The impact of her voice was like a physical strike to my chest. I looked at her, really looked at her, searching for the crack in the mask. Was the betrayal already planned? Was the lie already tucked under her tongue?
• "I'm just tired, Mira," I said. I forced my hands to remain loose at my sides. "Tired of the same routine."
• "Well, better get used to it," Donal grunted, not even looking up from his coffee. "Status doesn't change just because you're the Alpha’s mate on paper. Linens don't wash themselves."
• Status doesn't change. I felt a cold, sharp laugh bubble up in my throat, but I choked it down. He was right. In their eyes, I was a servant. In Caspian’s eyes, I was an inconvenience.
• I headed for the laundry, but I didn't go inside. Instead, I ducked into the narrow service hallway that led toward the Alpha’s private wing.
• If I were back, I needed to know where the poisoning started.
• I reached the heavy oak doors of the study just as they creaked open. I ducked behind a pedestal, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
• Caspian stepped out.
• He wasn't wearing the executioner’s black today. He was in a simple grey sweater, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. He looked handsome like always. He looked like the man I had spent years loving from a distance.
• Harlan followed him, clutching a leather-bound book, the same one he would read my sentence from in three days.
• "The intelligence is solid, Alpha," Harlan whispered, his voice low and urgent. "The leaks are coming from inside the estate. Someone with access to the archives."
• Caspian stopped. He didn't look back at Harlan. He looked toward the window, his gold eyes catching the morning light.
• "Find them," Caspian said. His voice was the same one that had told me not to be undignified while I bled out. "I don't care who it is. If they’ve compromised the pack, they pay the price."
• I pressed my back against the cold stone wall, my eyes wide.
• The trap was already being set. Harlan was already whispering the lie into Caspian’s ear. And I was standing right here, a servant with a basket of linens, watching the man I loved sign my death warrant for the first time.
• I didn't cry. I didn't shake.
• I waited until their footsteps faded, then I stepped out of the shadows. I didn't go to the laundry. I went straight to the archives.
• If they wanted a traitor, I would give them a ghost instead.
• I was not reborn to survive. I was reborn to end this.