Reborn, I Sent My Alpha Straight to Hell

In my past life, I spent ten years becoming the Luna everyone praised in the House of Rourke.

Just when I thought happiness was finally within reach, Alpha Kael murdered me without mercy.

As I lay dying, he confessed the truth: he had fallen in love with his brother’s widow—and killing me was the price he was willing to pay to save the woman he loved.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Kael proposed.

*****

“Arwen,” my father said, looking at me, “this marriage—choose for yourself.”

The moment I heard that familiar voice, I finally clawed my way out of the terror of dying in my last life.

He paused for a beat. “Are you willing to become Kael’s Luna?”

Kael lifted his gaze to me.

We weren’t equal. Not here. Not now.

Rourke was a newly risen combat Pack—carving its road through blood.

Vale had been rooted in the Council for centuries: stable seats, deep alliances, and votes that often bent to our expression.

If things followed the path of my “past life,” I should have nodded right then.

But this time, I heard my own voice—cold as ice cracking against stone.

“He doesn’t deserve it.”

The log in the fireplace snapped—*pop*—sharp and loud.

The entire hall went silent, like someone had cut the sound in an instant.

I had never been the kind of person who spoke in absolutes in public.

My father clearly hadn’t expected me to be this blunt either.

Yet he didn’t press me. He didn’t smooth anything over.

He only glanced at me once, then turned to Kael, polite but unmistakably cold.

“She refused.”

“Thank you for coming. But we’re done here. Please leave Vale territory.”

Kael stiffened—like he hadn’t believed rejection was even possible.

After all… I’d loved him like a religion. I’d chased after him with the kind of devotion that made people pity me. I’d once believed his shadow was better than anyone else’s sun.

The ceremonial convoy was returned exactly as it came.

Even the silver ring was placed back in its box, as if it had never existed.

But Kael didn’t leave right away.

He exited the hall and waited for me in the corner of the courtyard.

The moment I stepped onto the stairs, he blocked my way—his gaze heavy, a storm forced down behind his eyes.

“Do you hate me?”

His voice was low, threaded with uncertainty.

“Two days ago, at the Moon Hunt banquet, you praised me for being brave. You even snapped a sprig of red-berries and handed it to me.”

“And I saved your life twice…”

He sounded like he was searching for an excuse for my refusal—then denying his own excuse in the same breath.

After a long moment, he stared at me and spoke slowly.

“Why did you refuse me today?”

I looked at him, and the scenes of those two rescues rose in my mind.

The first time—on the road to the northern checkpoint, when a pack of rogue wolves attacked.

My convoy was forced to a stop in the Fogwood. When the raiders closed in, my heartbeat slammed into my throat.

And in that instant, Kael appeared.

He pulled me behind him, and there was a tenderness in his eyes that made me feel safe.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said.

“I’m here.”

That was how we met.

Back then, I thought he was a hero.

The second time—at the Moon Hunt banquet, a silver arrow shot straight for my throat.

I didn’t even have time to move.

Kael appeared again, lunging in from the side, grabbing the arrow’s tail with his bare hand.

The silver shaft shuddered. His palm split open. Blood ran down his knuckles.

His expression didn’t change.

He only left me one sentence: “As long as you’re fine.”

In that moment, he became my salvation.

So in my past life, I accepted his proposal.

But it wasn’t until one day after we were married that I learned—

Falling in love with him had been nothing but a long-planned trap.

Those two “life-saving” moments were performances he arranged in advance.

That night, after he defeated the northern tribe, he drank himself senseless and told me the truth like it was a joke.

The raiders were released on his order.

The silver arrow was fired by his command.

He was born into a low-tier Pack. He wanted a high-blooded she-wolf to pave his way.

After weighing everything, he chose me.

He hugged me from behind, pressed his face to my shoulder—drunk, warm, gentle.

“Arwen, I didn’t misjudge you.”

“You’re a good Luna.”

By then, I’d been married for years.

I couldn’t undo it. I couldn’t run.

And even if I knew the truth—so what?

I could only keep being that obedient, sensible *Luna*.