Revenge Of The Reborn Omega

In the quiet corridor of the Montclair mansion, Lysandra nervously traced her trembling fingers over the silk of her sky-blue dress. Hunter had always said the color brought out her lilac eyes.

A spark of hope and joy fluttered in her chest. Today, she was finally going to tell her husband the news: she had perfected the formula that would give them their long-awaited heir.

But first, Dyana had asked to see her.

"We need to talk, Lysandra," her sister had said, her voice sounding strangely tight over the intercom.

Lysandra hadn't hesitated. Even after they had both married, the bond between the fraternal twins remained strong.

Besides, lately-ever since their grandmother's death and the tragedy surrounding Dyana's husband, Logan Montclair-her sister had been irritable and volatile.

The door to Dyana's bedroom-now a widow's room-stood slightly ajar. Lysandra pushed the heavy wooden door.

"Dy? Is everything okay?" she called out, stepping inside when she received no answer.

The room was a lavish display of purple and gold, a testament to her sister's ostentatious taste. Dyana stood by the unlit fireplace, her back turned. She wore a burgundy silk peignoir that cascaded over her slender frame like a dark river.

"Come in and close the door," Dyana said, her tone freezing.

"What's wrong?" Lysandra asked, shutting the door behind her.

Dyana turned slowly, keeping her hands concealed within the wide sleeves of her robe. Her golden eyes, which usually sparkled with such warmth, were entirely dead. A thin, blood-red smile stretched across her lips, devoid of any real joy.

"Today, finally, I get to be myself. And I get to take what is rightfully mine."

Lysandra frowned in confusion.

"Dy, just tell me. I need to go speak with Hunter now, it's important-"

"Ah, yes. The big announcement." Dyana took a slow step closer. "You whipped up a new formula and actually think it's going to give Hunter an heir, don't you?"

"How did you...?"

"Gossip travels fast, Lysandra. But let's be realistic here," she began, her voice dripping with venom. "A fragile, useless recessive omega can't breed. Everyone knows you're as barren as a desert. Hunter only puts up with you because you're the heir to the Dubois family. He laughs at your attempts. Did you know that? He laughs at your pathetic hope."

The sheer malice in her sister's voice felt like a physical blow.

"Dy, why are you talking to me like this? What did I ever do to you?"

Then, a sudden thought struck her. "If this is about Logan... I know it was horrible. I know he was a monster, but we stopped him. We're safe now. Me, Hunter, and you-"

"You and Hunter," Dyana cut in, her smile twisting into a sneer. "Always you. You get to choose first. You get him. You inherit the damn house and all the Dubois money just because you were born five fucking minutes earlier! You, you, YOU!"

The last word tore from her throat in a hoarse, echoing scream. Dyana's right hand slipped out from the folds of her sleeve.

It wasn't empty. The crafted silver hilt of a dagger gleamed, its short blade razor-sharp.

Lysandra froze. Her brain simply refused to process the sight. It was a nightmare. It had to be.

"Dy... this isn't funny," she murmured, her voice trembling as she took a step back.

"Funny?" Dyana let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Naive little Lysandra. This isn't a joke. It's the end. Your end."

With terrifying speed, Dyana lunged forward and buried the blade deep into Lysandra's abdomen.

An explosion of pure agony ripped a muffled scream from Lysandra's throat as Dyana wrenched the dagger free. She doubled over, her hands instinctively flying to the wound. Hot, thick blood instantly soaked through her fingers.

"Wh-why?" she gasped, her eyes wide with terror and disbelief as she stared at her sister's gleeful face.

Her legs gave out. Lysandra collapsed to her knees on the plush rug, a dark, wet stain rapidly spreading across her sky-blue dress. The pain gnawed at her insides as she tried, and failed, to stem the bleeding.

Another laugh echoed through the room. It was deep, masculine, and sickeningly familiar, coming from the doorway of the en-suite bathroom.

Lysandra forced her head up. Her vision was already starting to blur at the edges, but she easily recognized the man leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over the chest of his guard captain's uniform.

Hunter. The man she had chosen as her mate just one year ago.

"Hunter..." His name slipped past her lips like a desperate plea. "Help... she... she..."

Hunter Renaud uncrossed his arms and walked toward her. He ignored her bloody, outstretched hand. Instead, he kicked her squarely in the shoulder, sending her sprawling flat on her back.

His green eyes, which had once looked at her with such tender devotion, now studied her like a repulsive insect.

"Ah, my sweet, useless Lysandra," he murmured, his voice sickeningly gentle. "Always so slow to catch on."

He stepped over her and walked straight to Dyana, who was still clutching the bloody dagger. He didn't take the weapon from her. Instead, Hunter pulled her in and crashed his lips against hers in a bruising, passionate kiss.

Lysandra watched in absolute horror as they finally broke apart. Dyana nestled comfortably into his embrace, a triumphant, wicked smirk on her face.

"You... you two..."

"We're lovers, darling," Hunter declared, entirely devoid of shame. "Have been for a long, long time. Long before our ridiculous arranged marriage."

"But... you love me..." Lysandra choked out, a fresh wave of agony-sharper than the blade-cleaving through her chest.

"I love the heir to the Dubois family," he corrected icily. "I took the easiest path to money and status. But my heart..."

He pressed a quick kiss to Dyana's lips. "...has always been hers. Always. She's the one who will give me strong children. Worthy Alphas. You?"

His face twisted in disgust. "You're nothing but a barren, recessive omega who couldn't even manage to give me an heir."

Dyana stared down at her dying sister, her features contorted with pure, unadulterated rage.

"You took everything from me, Lysa. Hunter. My position. My pride. You condemned me to a marriage with that animal who wouldn't even touch me. All because of five minutes!"

Her voice pitched higher, bordering on euphoric. "But look at us now. In the end, I get everything. The man. The Montclairs' fortune-thanks to your handy little homemade poison. And soon, I'll have the Dubois fortune, too."

She offered the dagger to Hunter. He took it, his cold gaze dropping back to Lysandra's bleeding form.

"Goodbye, Lysandra. Your usefulness has come to an end. Now, the true Dubois heir and I can finally start our life together, without your pathetic presence getting in the way."

Before Lysandra could even process the sheer monstrosity of his words, Hunter crouched down and delivered a second strike. Precise. Deep. He twisted the blade and left it buried just below her heart.

The scream that tore from Lysandra's throat didn't even sound human. It was the sound of a soul shattering, of an entire reality collapsing. She tried to move, to crawl away, but her limbs felt like lead. The pain was a dark, heavy tide, dragging her under.

Through tear-blurred, fading lilac eyes, she stared up at the two figures standing over her. Hunter and Dyana, their hands intertwined-hands stained slick with her blood.

They were laughing. A loud, shared, intimate sound of absolute victory. They kissed and caressed each other, completely oblivious to her agony.

The betrayal swallowed Lysandra whole. It tasted like copper on her tongue and burned behind her eyes, mocking her eternal naivety.

She had given everything for her sister. She had trusted her husband implicitly. She had even helped them kill a man-a monster, or so she had believed-just to keep them safe. All in the name of love. All for loyalty.

And in return, they had butchered her.

The cold seeped into her bones, spreading from the inside out. The darkness crept closer, welcoming and absolute.

But as her gaze drifted to the balcony doors, catching the light of the full moon shining down on her ruined body, one final spark ignited. A burning, desperate coal of pure hatred.

She stared at the moon through the glass, impassive, a silent witness to her ultimate betrayal.

Lysandra's blood-stained lips moved soundlessly. Then, a ragged whisper escaped, carrying every ounce of her agony, her humiliation, and her rage.

"Moon... Goddess... Please... I beg for... justice... Give me... a chance for... revenge..."

The darkness swallowed her completely, sweet and absolute...

And then-an explosion of blinding white light seized her. It wrapped around her, warming her frozen skin, before violently throwing her back...

Lysandra gasped, her body jerking violently as a sharp pull of air flooded lungs that were no longer drowning in blood. Her eyes snapped open. Instead of the oppressive, bloody gloom of Dyana's bedroom, she was blinded by the soft, golden light of a late afternoon.

Was she sitting?

Yes!

She was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in her family's dining room.

Right in front of her sat the polished oak table. And resting on that table were two photographs: One was a proud, smiling portrait of Hunter Renaud in his crisp guard captain's uniform. The other was a serious, intense shot of Logan Montclair.

Exactly like a year ago...

"Lysandra, darling." Her father's voice drifted in, sounding like an echo from a distant dream, thick with paternal concern. "I know this choice is important, but we can't delay any longer. Hunter or Logan? Who do you choose as your mate?"

The question. The setting. The timing.

Was she back to the exact day she and Dyana had chosen their mates?