SERAPHINE VALE died on the cold bathroom floor of a penthouse apartment belonging to her husband, Alpha Dorian Crest. She had been his Luna, his mate, his secret — and his most convenient lie. He let her bleed out after a miscarriage because his true mate, the woman he had been hiding for three years, needed the suite for a dinner party. She wakes up six years earlier, standing in the rain outside his gate — invitation in hand, memories intact, and absolutely nothing left to lose. This time, Seraphine Vale does not go inside. This time, she walks three miles to the territory of Kael Ashvale — the Alpha the world calls monstrous, her husband's greatest rival, the man every instinct in her first life told her to fear — and she knocks on his door with six years of her husband's secrets in her head and one simple offer: I have information. And I have terms. What neither of them knows yet is that Seraphine is not the forgettable omega she was made to believe she was. She is the last bloodline of the Blessed Lunas — a line of women so rare and so powerful that someone buried it three hundred years ago just to keep them hidden. The hex is fading. Her wolf is waking. And Kael Ashvale, who has never wanted anything he couldn't explain, is running out of explanations. Her first life, she loved too quietly. She made herself small enough to fit inside someone else's idea of her. She took notes. Now she's using them.