Rejected By The Pack, Reborn An Alpha Queen

Gillian POV:

The icy slush of the street filled my mouth. It tasted of mud and rotting cabbage, a foul, acidic burn with every breath I tried to take. Each gasp was like swallowing shards of glass.

"Liar with a mouth full of lies!"

"Get out of Avalon!"

The shouts were a chaotic storm around me. Stones and garbage rained down, each impact a dull thud of pain that spread through my limbs. My body was a map of agony.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them they were wrong.

But my throat, burned raw by the poison my own mother, Annis, had forced down it, could only produce a wet, rasping sound.

A memory flashed, sharp and bright against the gray sky. I was fourteen, enlisting under a false name"Griffin Joseph". Ten years fighting in the brutal Spine of the World mountains. I wasn't liars who lie all the time. I was the one who held the line.

Another memory flashed in my mind. I was twenty-three, the High Sovereign himself fastening the medal to my chest, naming me the "Warlord of the Shimmering Reach."

Now, I was a dog dying in the gutter.

A pair of immaculate leather boots stopped in front of my face. I forced my head up, mud and blood blurring my vision. My half-brother, Johnathan Joseph, looked down at me. His face was a mask of disgust twisted with a sick kind of excitement.

He crouched down and gently tapped my cheek with the smooth wood of his bow. "Don't blame us, sister. Women cannot inherit titles or honor. If word gets out about you disguising yourself as a man to join the army, our family will be ruined. Compared to you as a security risk, Amara, as the daughter of our family, is much more suitable."

Amara. My adoptive sister.

"All your honor and status now belong to her,"he whispered, his voice laced with a conspiratorial hiss. "Let me tell you the truth, long before your fake death and return a year ago, your parents had already informed the royal court that Amara, the 'Wraith of the Spine' who fell in battle, the younger sister of Griffin Joseph, would inherit his legacy. She would serve as a link between the royalty and the meritorious, bringing more benefits to our family. See? It's perfect. And you? You're just a dead man who shouldn't have existed."

A hot, metallic taste flooded my throat. Blood. Not from a wound, but from the sheer force of rage and betrayal that seized my heart. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing it, trying to crush it into stillness.

Johnathan stood up. He pulled a blunt, headless arrow from his quiver. A practice shaft. He meant to toy with me, to break me slowly, like a hunter enjoying the last moments of his prey.

I watched him draw the bow. His face, so much like my own, twisted into a monstrous grin against the falling snow. The crowd around us cheered, their voices a hungry roar.

This was the empire I had bled for. This was the family I had defended. They stole my honor, my life, and now they would kill me in the most humiliating way possible.

The blunt arrow struck my shoulder with a sickening crack. Bone shattered. Pain exploded through me, but I couldn't even scream. My body just convulsed in the filth.

A second arrow. A third. He avoided my vital organs, prolonging it. My consciousness began to fray at the edges, worn thin by the relentless pain.

In the last moment, as darkness consumed my vision, I burned their faces into my soul. Johnathan's sneer. My mother Annis's cold indifference. My father Carroll's cowardice as he looked away. And Amara's triumphant smile, half-hidden in the crowd.

If there is another life, I, Gillian Joseph, swear I will make you pay in blood.

The absolute cold was suddenly replaced by a gentle warmth. The stench of rot vanished, replaced by the faint, clean scent of incense.

I gasped, my eyes flying open.

I was sitting up, breathing hard, in a moving carriage.

The walls were lined with velvet. A silver hand-warmer rested near my fingers. Through the window, the familiar streets of Avalon drifted by, blanketed in snow.

I looked down at my hands. They were clean. Unbroken. But the calluses from a decade of holding a sword were still there, thick and hard across my knuckles.

This wasn't a dream.

The memories slammed into me. This was the day my "death" was announced in the capital. In my past life, to save my family from the charge of treason for my years of deception-a woman masquerading as a man-I had agreed to fake my death. I had promised to disappear forever.

And today was the day Amara Joseph, as the "war hero's sister," was scheduled to meet with Lady Kensington, to receive the praises of the city's elite matrons.

My loyal maid, Bryn, was watching me with wide, worried eyes. "Miss? Did you have a nightmare? We're almost at the North Gate Bridge."

I was reborn.

Reborn on the very day I had chosen to sacrifice myself, to walk into exile.

The old me had been a fool, believing my sacrifice would buy my family's safety and my parents' forgiveness. Now I knew. It only bought their betrayal and my own brutal murder.

I would not leave this time.

I would not hand over a life that was mine.

"Bryn," I said. My voice was hoarse from disuse, but it was steady. Unbreakable. "Stop the carriage."

Bryn stared at me, confused. "Miss? But we agreed. We're to pass through the capital without seeing anyone..."

"I said, stop the carriage."

The sharp edge in my voice made her flinch. She didn't question me again. She knocked on the carriage wall, signaling the driver.

The carriage slowed to a halt. I pushed the door open, letting the biting wind and a flurry of snowflakes rush inside.

I didn't look back. I stepped out into the swirling snows of Avalon.

This time, I wasn't just passing through.

I was here to take everything back.