In my past life, I was killed by the Alpha brother I loved

Alpha Morgan’s face was flushed crimson, his skin twitching as if something beneath was struggling to break free. His fingers trembled as he yanked at his collar, Alpha Adam’s apple bobbing wildly—like he was fighting against a primal urge.

His eyes shimmered with an eerie silver glow. The beast inside him was pushing through, clawing at the boundaries of his Alpha restraint. He stared at me, as though searching for something only I could give.

“Stay… stay away from me.”

His voice was hoarse, guttural, tinged with a growl he could barely suppress.

I stood frozen at the door, chilled to my bones. This wasn’t mere fear—it was the instinctive dread that lower-ranking wolves felt in the presence of a dominant Alpha on the verge of losing control. Alpha Morgan was on the brink of a bloodline awakening. Tonight, under the lunar eclipse, his inner wolf would fully emerge.

I turned and fled the room, my steps shaky. But my mind betrayed me, dragging me back to the night in my past life that had rewritten everything.

Back then, after a full moon ceremony, I passed by Alpha Morgan’s room and heard a loud crash and muffled groans from within. As an adopted daughter of the Silver Moon Pack, I hesitated—then pushed the door open, worried something had happened to him.

Inside, Alpha Morgan was curled on the floor, his body taut, veins bulging, claws half-formed. He was caught in the throes of his first wilding cycle—an uncontrollable shift triggered by the awakening of his bloodline before adulthood.

That night, though I was not his target, I loved him. And that love made me stay.

He told me to leave, but the beast inside him would not allow it. I gave myself to him, thinking I could help ease his pain. Instead, I endured a night of agony, waking up bruised and broken.

From that night on, everything between us was shattered.

But in this life, I swore I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Just as my fingers brushed the doorknob, a powerful grip yanked me back. Alpha Morgan pulled me into his burning-hot embrace, his breath scorching the skin behind my ear.

“Chloe... didn’t you say you loved me? Then why are you running?”

His voice was a low growl, thick with anger, longing, and a dangerous loss of control.

I shivered uncontrollably—not from cold, but from the terrifying pressure of a dominant Alpha on the verge of fully shifting.

His hand slid down my spine. I struggled like a madwoman, clawing at his face and chest. Blood bloomed beneath my nails. He froze for a second, and I seized the chance—grabbing a nearby vase and swinging it at his head.

But Alpha Morgan reacted fast. He gripped my wrist, the vase shattering against the floor.

He stared at me, shocked, his chest heaving. “Why...? Why are you resisting me like this?”

Without hesitation, I bit down hard on his hand. He growled in pain and released me. I twisted the doorknob and ran.

At the hallway corner, I collided head-on with Eira. Her eyes widened at the sight of me fleeing Alpha Morgan’s room. She slapped me across the face without hesitation.

“You bitch! What did you do to Alpha Morgan?!”

The blow jolted me back to my senses. I stared at her, hate burning in my chest.

In my past life, I didn’t hate Eira. I had even blamed myself for her supposed death. But on the day I died, I discovered the truth—Eira had never died. Her death was a lie, a manipulation to keep him bound to her, and to fuel Alpha Morgan’s grief and hatred toward me.

How laughable. I had become a pawn in their cruel little game.

I held back my fury and said coldly, “Aren’t you going in? Don’t keep Alpha Morgan waiting.”

Eira’s expression twisted. She glared and stormed into the room.

Moments later, I heard her scream—sharp and piercing—followed by Alpha Morgan’s low grunt.

I didn’t look back. I walked down the stairs slowly, breathing heavily.

But things didn’t unfold the way they had before.

Not long after, Alpha Morgan kicked Eira out of his room. Thirty minutes later, Dr. Martin’s medical team arrived to take Alpha Morgan away.

As he was carried out on a stretcher, Alpha Morgan’s furious eyes locked on me—not with confusion or pain, but with the intensity of a predator marking its prey.

Eira sat by his side, crying like a broken doll. As they left, she shot me a venomous glare, as if I had stolen something that was never hers.

I returned to my room and picked up the phone.

“Professor,” I said, “I’ve made up my mind. I’m ready to come to the Blackthorn Pack for further training.”

The voice on the other end replied calmly, “Good. Alpha Noah and I have been waiting for you.”