Replaced, Reborn
Four years later – Bloodmoon Citadel
The flames that had devoured her past had also forged her future.
Lyra Ashbane no longer knelt.
Not for alphas.
Not for kings.
Not even for fate.
The wind howled outside the palace gates as she stepped from the carriage, veiled in black lace, draped in Eastern silk. Her scent was masked by spell-oil and heather. Her aura glamoured to read submissive, sweet, desirable.
But beneath the mask?
Fire.
Her eyes scanned the towering iron gates of the Alpha Palace—the same place where she'd once been paraded like livestock, sold as a surrogate to a noble wolf-lord, then discarded like a broken toy when she bled and survived.
Only Cassian had known she survived that fire.
And only he believed she'd died with their unborn daughter.
She touched the locket beneath her corset. Inside, a lock of silver-blonde hair—her daughter's. Her legacy. The heir to a bloodline everyone thought cursed, extinct, erased.
Until now.
A guard approached, eyes narrowing. "Name?"
"Liliana of the Eastern Courts," she said smoothly, using the name on the forged invitation. "Gift from High Lord Ravik. For your Alpha King's return."
The soldier's jaw tensed, gaze dipping to the red silk at her throat. "Pleasure gift?"
"Not just pleasure," she purred. "A rare hybrid. Bred for power. Taught for obedience."
He hesitated—drawn by the scent she projected, dulled and tamed by magic. He stepped aside.
Lyra walked through the gate.
And into the lion's den.
Inside, the palace smelled of cedar smoke, spiced wine, and wolf. The kind of scent that clung to skin and memory. She passed servants and guards who didn't spare her a second look. They saw what she allowed them to see: a soft-voiced courtesan with clever eyes and supple grace.
They didn't see the knives hidden in her boots.
The sigils carved in ink beneath her corset.
Or the fury in her soul, sharpened for war.
Lyra reached the upper corridor, guided toward the receiving chamber by a silent steward. She felt it before she saw him—his scent.
Cypress and cold rain.
Her wolf stirred. Her magic too.
And not in recognition—
In warning.
But when the doors opened, it wasn't Cassian who stood at the throne.
It was someone else.
Taller. Broader. Wearing a darker crown, forged of blackened obsidian and howling steel. His eyes met hers—icy blue, sharp as a blade.
He didn't look surprised to see her.
He looked…interested.
"Alpha King Kade Thorne," the steward announced. "Returned from exile."
Her pulse skipped.
Kade?
But—Cassian was the heir. The future ruler. The man who'd sold her.
Why was his twin wearing the crown?
Lyra lowered her head as custom demanded, but only just. She didn't submit.
"From Ravik?" Kade's voice was smoke and stone.
She nodded once. "Yes, Alpha."
He studied her like he could smell the lie under her skin. "Interesting. Ravik doesn't usually send gifts. Especially not… hybrids."
The word rolled from his mouth without disdain. More like curiosity.
He doesn't recognize me, she realized.
None of them did.
Not yet.
"Step forward," Kade commanded.
She did.
He rose, and the space between them crackled—his aura brushing hers, testing. Her glamour shimmered under the pressure, but she held it. Just barely.
He circled her once, pausing behind her ear. His voice brushed her neck. "You smell… familiar."
Her breath hitched.
Not yet. Not now.
She forced her voice steady. "I've been trained in many courts. You may have encountered my scent before, Alpha."
A hum. Amused. But unconvinced.
Then a knock shattered the moment.
The chamber doors opened.
And Cassian Thorne strode in.
Lyra didn't have to look to know it was him.
The scent of betrayal was unmistakable.
Cassian Thorne moved like the crown still belonged to him.
Same raven-dark hair. Same golden eyes that once burned with devotion—now colder, sharper, burdened with something harsher than guilt.
Guilt would've been too easy.
He wore polished obsidian armor, etched with the sigils of House Thorne. No mask this time, no shadows to hide behind. He was older now. More powerful. And still breathtaking.
But all Lyra saw was the chain he once clasped around her neck.
Their eyes met—and his didn't flicker.
Not a twitch.
Not even a flinch of recognition.
Good.
Her face, her scent, her aura—they were all cloaked in spells born of blood and suffering. He wouldn't recognize her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But his wolf might.
A low, guttural growl rippled through the air. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as if trying to place something that should've been familiar but felt… twisted.
Kade tilted his head, amused. "Something wrong, brother?"
Cassian's gaze didn't leave her. "She smells… strange."
"I assure you, I'm clean," Lyra said smoothly, tilting her head to expose her neck, pretending to be harmless. Her pulse fluttered in just the right way—a practiced mimicry of submission.
Cassian stepped forward.
Kade's smile vanished.
"You're dismissed," Cassian told the steward. "I'll inspect her myself."
Lyra stiffened.
Of course you will, she thought. You inspected me once before. Before you sold me like cattle.
Kade didn't move. "She's mine."
Cassian blinked. "Since when do you accept gifts from Eastern courts?"
"Since I became king."
Cassian's jaw twitched. "You were gone for seven years."
"Exiled for crimes you committed," Kade shot back.
Tension coiled like a noose around the room.
Lyra's heart thundered—but not from fear.
This was better than she'd hoped.
The twin kings weren't allies. They were rivals. Fractured. At odds. And both of them still fated to her.
She could feel the bond now—a tug beneath her ribs, soft and steady, like a second heartbeat. One thread pulled toward Cassian—violent, frayed, burned. The other toward Kade—dark, new, untested.
One betrayed her. One would burn the world to claim her.
And neither of them knew it yet.
Kade spoke again, calm and cutting. "Thank Ravik for his gift. She stays with me."
Cassian hesitated—then bowed stiffly. "As you wish, Alpha King."
He turned on his heel and stormed out.
Lyra let out a slow breath.
The doors closed.
Kade didn't speak right away. He circled her again, this time slower. Closer. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the way his power curled around her magic like a question without a voice.
"You're not who you say you are," he murmured.
She met his gaze now, steady. Cool. "Would you believe I don't know who I am either?"
A faint smile curved his lips. "Liar."
"I've been many things," she said. "Sold. Branded. Used."
His jaw clenched.
"But I can be something else now, can't I?" she asked softly, letting her voice become a caress. "If I belong to you."
Kade looked at her like he already knew she was a storm.
And he wanted to be devoured by it.
"I don't want obedience," he said, stepping closer. "I want truth."
"You wouldn't survive it."
"Try me."
She slept that night in the queen's wing.
Not a servant's quarters. Not a courtesan's hall. But the royal wing—two doors down from the king himself.
The room was too clean, too lavish. Silk sheets. Moonstone chandeliers. A velvet chaise by the fire.
She stood at the mirror, slowly unpinning her silver hair. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark—wolf and witch, both awakening.
She touched her stomach. Flat now. Empty.
But she remembered what it had once held.
A daughter born in blood and silence.
A child hidden away by witches who owed her mother a favor.
A girl whose power was beginning to rise with every passing moon.
Lyra looked at her reflection.
The girl in chains was gone.
Tomorrow, she would walk the palace. Learn its halls again. Get close to Kade. Closer to Cassian.
And begin the unraveling of everything they thought was true.
Because vengeance didn't arrive screaming at the gates.
It slipped in wearing silk and smiling sweetly.