I Choose the Beta Over the Alpha Prince

Sophia's POV

The crazy sound of tearing, the metallic taste of blood, and that excruciating pain of being ripped apart alive—

"Ah!" I bolt upright, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal trying to break free.

My whole body is shaking. I can't stop it. My hands fly to my neck and chest, frantically searching for the wounds that should be there. The deep gashes where Victoria's wolves tore into me. The places where my life bled out onto that cold concrete floor.

Nothing. My fingers find only smooth, unbroken skin.

I'm gasping for air, cold sweat beading on my forehead as I keep patting myself down like some kind of maniac. Where are the injuries? Where's all the blood? I remember everything so clearly. Victoria's twisted smile, the way she hissed "Die, you bitch," the three rabid wolves lunging at me with murder in their eyes.

But I'm not in that basement. I'm not dying in a pool of my own blood.

Instead, I'm surrounded by luxury. Soft leather seats, crystal fixtures catching the light, everything gleaming and expensive. This isn't some dungeon. This is the inside of a high-end vehicle.

"Where... where am I?" The words come out cracked and uncertain.

Through the window, I catch glimpses of a modern werewolf city flying by. Skyscrapers reach toward the sky, busy streets pulse with life, everything clean and sophisticated. Nothing like the dark hole where I supposedly died.

My brain feels like it's short-circuiting.

"Miss Sophia, we'll arrive at the Royal Territory in thirty minutes. Would you like to freshen up first?"

The driver's respectful voice cuts through my confusion. I stare at the back of his head, not trusting my own ears.

"Miss Sophia?" My voice comes out as barely a whisper. "You're... you're talking to me?"

He glances at me in the rearview mirror, concern creeping into his expression. "Of course, Miss. Weren't you the one tossing and turning all night? You said you were nervous about meeting Prince Marcus."

Prince Marcus. The name hits me like a physical blow.

I turn toward the window mechanically, and my reflection stares back at me from the glass. Twenty-four years old. Young face, clear skin, bright green eyes full of life. Not a mark on me.

I lift my hand and touch my own cheek, just to make sure this is real. The skin is warm, soft, very much alive.

This can't be happening. I died. I know I died. I can still feel the exact moment when life drained out of my body.

But here I am, very much breathing, very much twenty-four, sitting in what looks like a luxury transport.

That's when I notice the items laid out on the seat beside me. Expensive clothes still with their tags, jewelry that probably costs more than my family makes in a year, and an official-looking invitation with elegant script: "The honor of Miss Sophia Silver's presence is requested at the Royal Territory to receive commendation from Alpha King Alexander."

The invitation. Seeing those formal words makes the memories crash over me like a tsunami.

One year ago. Autumn leaves were falling by the small river that marked the boundary of Silver Creek Pack territory.

"Sophia! Get over here quick, there's someone here!" Grace's voice had carried across the water, urgent and panicked.

I remember running toward the riverbank, my medical training kicking in before I even knew what I'd find. There, half-submerged in the shallow water, was a man. Unconscious, covered in claw marks so deep they painted the clear river water red.

Dad had taken one look and shaken his head grimly. "The injuries are too severe. We might not be able to save him."

But I couldn't just watch someone die. Not when I had the power to help.

"Dad, let me take care of him."

Dad had looked at me with that mixture of pride and worry that I now realize should have been all worry. "Alright, but be careful. We don't know who this guy is."

"It doesn't matter, Dad. Saving lives is what we do."

God, I was such an idealistic little fool.

Three days and three nights I spent by that stranger's bedside in our small clinic. I barely slept, barely ate, pouring all my energy into keeping him alive. Cleaning his wounds with gentle hands, monitoring his vital signs, watching his chest rise and fall with each precious breath.

When he finally opened his eyes, I thought it was a miracle.

"Did... did you save me?" His voice had been so weak, his blue eyes unfocused and confused.

"You're awake! Thank God, I was so worried you wouldn't pull through."

The relief I'd felt then was pure and uncomplicated. Just happiness that another living being would continue to exist.

"Do you remember your name?"

"I... I can't remember anything."

That's when I'd made what was probably the stupidest decision of both my lives. "Then I'll call you Alex. Alex means 'protector.'"

Protector. What a joke. I named him protector, never knowing he'd become my greatest captor.

But those days, those sweet, gentle days of recovery, they were the most beautiful time in my memory. We'd spent hours in the clinic's back garden, me teaching him about medicinal herbs while he recovered his strength. We'd take careful walks through the forest paths around our territory, him still weak but insisting he felt safe with me there.

He was always so careful with me, helping me across streams, his eyes following my every movement like I was the most important thing in his world. I'd thought it was just gratitude, just the natural bond between healer and patient.

When I brought him to see the pack's young pups, watching him awkwardly try to hold the tiny, squirming bodies had melted my heart.

The nightmares were the worst part, though. He'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

"No! Stay back!" he'd shout, lost in whatever dark dreams haunted him.

"Shh... it's okay, Alex. I'm here. You're safe now."

I'd stroke his forehead until he calmed down, until his breathing evened out and he drifted back to peaceful sleep.

Back then I thought the nightmares were trauma from whatever attack had nearly killed him. Now I realize he was probably dreaming about all the people he'd killed in battle, all the lives he'd taken in the name of power and territory.

And all of that changed three months ago.

The sound of engines had shattered the peaceful quiet of our pack. A convoy of black vehicles rolled in like something out of a movie, all official-looking and intimidating as hell.

"We're searching for Prince Marcus," the lead guard had announced to our startled pack. "According to our tracking, this was his last known location."

Our pack's Alpha just looked confused. "A prince? How could there possibly be a prince here?"

But Dad seemed to realize something. "Wait... you're talking about Prince Marcus?"

"That's him!" The guard pointed directly at Alex as he emerged from the clinic.

The entire pack dropped to their knees like dominoes. Everyone except me. I was too shocked to move, too stunned to process what was happening.

"Alex? You're... you're..."

"I am Marcus Blackwood, Prince of the Royal Territory." Just like that, the gentle, uncertain man I'd nursed back to health vanished, replaced by someone with natural authority radiating from every pore. But when he looked at me, his eyes were still soft. Still warm.

My legs nearly gave out. He crossed to me in quick strides, his hands steadying my arms.

"Sophia, thank you for saving my life."

"I... I didn't know you were..."

"To you, I'm still Alex. You saved my life. I'll never forget that."

When he left, he'd made promises. Big, romantic, fairy-tale promises.

"I'll come back for you, Sophia. I'll give you everything you could ever want."

"Your Highness, I don't need anything. I was honored to help you."

"No, you deserve the best. When I finish handling some business back home, I'll formally invite you to the Royal Territory."

He'd kissed my hand so gently, and I'd blushed like a fucking teenager. The whole pack had watched, some even clapping, like it was some kind of storybook ending.

What a load of shit that turned out to be.

"Miss, we've arrived at the Royal Territory. Your clothes..."

I look down at my simple Silver Creek Pack medical uniform. It's what I'm comfortable in, what feels like me. Last time, I'd been so nervous about making a good impression that I'd let them dress me up in fancy clothes that felt like a costume.

"I don't need to change. This uniform is fine."

I take a deep breath and look through the window at the familiar sight of the Royal Territory's elaborate buildings rising before me.

The car door opens slowly, and the grand entrance to the Royal Territory spreads out in front of me, just like a giant web waiting for something stupid enough to fly into it.

But this time, I'm not going to be the naive little prey animal. Whether this is a dream or actual rebirth, I'm not making the same mistakes twice. This time, I'm going to survive.