

Introduction
A chance she didn't want and never appreciated.
In her last life Rieka had managed to become the queen of the werewolves, a position that made her the envy of all women in the kingdom.
The same position had also become her downfall, a fall which had been aided by the same man she called her husband, someone who she hadn't even seen again since after their wedding.
Now a year after rebirth after Rieka had sworn to have nothing to do with the upper hierarchy of the werewolves, she had bumped into her husband.
Unconscious and at the brink of death, realizing that she couldn't avoid her fate, Rieka decides to face it head on but this time, she would do everything in her power to make sure that those who had a hand in her predicament in her previous life were served revenge including her husband.
The master of it all
The king of the werewolves
Chapter 1
The second chance
Reika's POV
I lay on the cold, clammy floor of the prison, the smell of mold hung thick in the atmosphere. My body was heavy with pain and horror, it felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. My once vibrant, curly red hair had been reduced to a lifeless shade, and the sockets where my blue oceanic eyes once shone were now empty, devoid of it's usual spark. There was nothing left but raw scars and the bitter sting of pain that gripped my heart tightly, threatening to rip me apart.
“She’s been unusually quiet today,” one of the guards remarked from outside my cell.
“Good,” his companion responded with a shiver. “Her voice gives me the creeps.”
“It’s a shame. The kingdom’s former queen reduced to this devastating state,” the first guard continued.
“She deserves it,” the second guard scoffed. “For all the evil she did," his voice dripping with venom.
I listened to their cruel words, each opening a fresh wound. My heart, already frozen by the contempt from those I once held dear, grew colder still. How could they call me evil when they don't know the whole story? How could they judge me when they don't know the sacrifices I have made? The love I had once given? But it doesn't matter. In the end I have been abandoned, left cold by those I had loved, those I had trusted.
I could feel the life slowly slipping away from me. And in my final moments, I whispered a prayer, my voice barely audible. I asked the Moon Goddess to bless my next life. In that life, I'd promised myself, I wouldn’t be foolish. I wouldn’t be wolfless. I wouldn’t have selfish, greedy family members. I closed my eyes, and with those thoughts, I let the darkness swallowed me.
A tear slipped from my empty eye sockets, trailing down my sunken cheeks. A tear of regret. Of sorrow. Of pain.
Sunlight filtered in through the half-open window blinds, warming my face. I stirred, groggily, a yawn escaping from my dry, purple lips. The air felt lighter, as if I had just woken up from some kind of nightmare.
Suddenly, a sharp female voice cut through the room, snapping me out of my daze. "Get up, lazy girl! It's morning! Have you done your chores yet?"
With panic surging through me, I shot my head up. Where was I? What was this place? My eyes scanned the room, trying to grasp the situation before me. This wasn't where I had been. Am I not supposed to be dead?
"If you don't want me to come in there and drag you out, you better start moving," The woman's voice came again, louder this time and demanding.
My heart was pounding in my chest as fear crept up my spine. My back rested against the wall, my breath shallow gasps, as the thought the door to the room will open. The woman tried the handle, cursing when she found it locked.
"You little imp," she muttered. "No food or a drop of water for you today. I'll make sure of it."
Her heavy footsteps echoed as she walked away, fading. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Relief washed over me, though it was cut-short.
I forced myself out of bed and stumbled toward the mirror, my legs shaky beneath me. I needed to see… to know.
The face staring back at me in the cracked mirror was mine, yet not mine at all. The bruises and marks I had carried in my past life, clearly different from the smooth, scarless skin I have now. My eyes were the same, still blue and wide with shock. I reached up to touch my neck. The chains. The scars. The torment. Everything, they were gone. The weight I had carried for so long had vanished, leaving only the faintest memory.
I felt the sudden, overwhelming realization: the Moon Goddess had granted my prayer. She had taken me back to my younger self—back to when I was powerless, to when my parents had treated me like an unwanted thing.
A tear slid down my cheeks, though quickly I wiped it off. It wasn't a tear of sorrow, but one of frustration. This wasn’t a life I wanted to relive. I didn’t want to go through this again. I wanted a new life. A life free from pain. But, then a smirk curled up on my lips. Yes, it was a smile of victory. I'd survive.
I made my way down the stairs, trying to move quietly, not wanting to alert my parents or my younger brother, Riftan.
“Where do you think you’re going?” his voice stopped me cold as I reached the bottom step.
I froze, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. Riftan stood there, holding an apple in his hand, a smug grin on his face as if he had won some small victory.
I turned my eyes narrowing. He threw the apple at me, the force knocking me off balance. My weakened body couldn’t hold itself upright, and I tumbled down the stairs, hitting the hard wooden floor with a sickening thud.
Riftan’s laughter echoed around me, loud and cruel.
I could hear my mother rushing from her room, her heavy footsteps reverberating through the house. When she saw Riftan standing at the foot of the stairs, laughing, and me lying crumpled at the bottom, a strange relief seemed to wash over her. She tugged Riftan by the ear, scolding him.
“How many times have I told you not to make noise? I thought someone broke in!” she snapped.
Riftan pointed at me with an accusing finger, his voice whining. “It’s not my fault! She tried to steal my apple and push me down the stairs. I didn’t let her, so she fell instead.”
My mother’s eyes flicked to the half-eaten apple at my feet, and her expression twisted with anger. “You little brat! Are you so heartless you’d try to kill your poor little brother?”
I knew what was coming next. The beatings. The punishment. I didn’t even have the strength to protest as she stomped down the stairs toward me.
“Make sure you never come back to this house, you evil brat!” she shouted, but I was already scrambling to my feet, running out the door as fast as my legs could carry me. Even with her cursing trailing behind me, I didn’t care. I didn't wait.
Two days later, I stood staring in disbelief at the wound on my wrist. It was healing. Closing up before my very eyes. The skin pulled together, the edges fusing as though it had never been there at all.
I had tried this before. I had tried to end it, to escape the life I had once lived, but now... now it felt different.
I was back in the past. And this time, I wasn’t going to let it control me.
I had been given a second chance at life to make different , better choices and I would gladly take it.
To end it once and for all.
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