Page 6 of The Possessive Alpha’s Reborn Luna

"Help me—" My scream choked on thick smoke. Pain stabbed through my belly.

"Cedric!" I shouted desperately. "Save me! I'm here!"

A figure finally burst through the trees. In the moonlight, his tall silhouette was so clear. I nearly sobbed.

Then a weak voice spoke. "Cedric, save me..."

Victoria lay at the edge of the flames, her elaborate dress burned with holes. She reached out, looking at Cedric with those green eyes, appearing utterly pitiful. "Please, save me..."

My heart sank instantly. I knew exactly what choice he'd make.

Sure enough, without any hesitation—just like countless times before—Cedric chose Victoria. He strode over, bent down, lifted her in his arms.

"Cedric!" I screamed, tearing my throat. "Cedric, come back! I'm still here! Save me! Save your child!"

His steps paused. But he didn't look back. Holding Victoria, he walked away.

Flames burned hotter. Smoke choked me blind. My skin blistered in the heat. The smell of burning hair mixed with blood, nauseating.

But the worst pain wasn't physical. It was my heart—the heart that once beat for him. Now shattered into countless pieces. More painful than any flame.

Then I felt warm liquid running down my thighs. I felt my baby leaving me.

"No, no, baby, please don't leave me..." I struggled to reach my belly, but pain came in waves, each one tearing through my body. Blood flowed faster, nearly soaking the altar beneath me.

My wolf howled in agony inside. I knew—my child was gone forever. I'd never felt such despair. That helplessness shattered me completely.

"I'm sorry..." My voice was barely audible, tears streaming down, dripping into the blood pool. "Baby, I'm so sorry... Mommy couldn't protect you..."

Flames burned. Smoke rolled. The world collapsed. I closed my eyes in despair, letting the darkness swallow my consciousness completely.

If there's another life, Cedric—

I never want to meet you again.

Chapter Two

Alice

"My child!" I bolted upright, chest heaving, lungs screaming for air like they might explode.

My hand flew to my belly.

Flat. Nothing. No wound, no charred skin, no blood.

I held my hands up to the morning light, turning them over. Smooth skin. Unmarked. No shackle burns. No scars from the flames.

My eyes swept the room.

No dark forest. No Victoria's twisted face. No black-robed witches. Instead—beige wallpaper, dark wood furniture, silk curtains the color of champagne. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

And beside it, carved into the beam, an emblem: a wolf in profile, wreathed in laurel.

The Gray family crest.

This was my home. My room at Gray Manor.

But how? I died in those flames...