My Alpha Murdered Me. I Woke Up Before Our Wedding

The man I loved murdered me between “I do” and the first dance. One hundred forty-three wolves watched Alpha Callum Thorne lift my veil beneath the Blood Moon. None of them moved when he kissed me. None of them moved when he slid a silver knife between my ribs. For one stunned heartbeat, I mistook the heat in my chest for the mate bond finally opening. Then Callum twisted the blade. Pain turned the white chapel red. My bouquet hit the stone floor. White roses scattered around our feet, their petals drinking the blood that ran down my gown. “Callum?” His gray eyes stayed on mine. They were the same eyes I had trusted across six years, two pack wars, and every lonely night after my mother disappeared. There was no rage in them. No panic. Only terrible relief. His mouth brushed my ear. “You should have stayed dead the first time.” He pulled out the knife. I collapsed against him, and instinct drove my bare hand to his wrist. My secret gift—the Moon-Echo—answered death, not the living. Still, for a fraction of a second, another sensation broke through me. Cold earth beneath my back. A man shouting my name. Callum’s voice saying, Not again. Then the chapel disappeared. I woke choking on formaldehyde. Fluorescent lights buzzed above me. Stainless-steel drawers lined a white-tiled wall. My cheek rested on something colder than stone. I knew this room. I had run Greyhaven’s morgue for four years. I pushed upright so fast that the rolling stool crashed behind me. My wedding gown was gone. I wore navy scrubs, a stained lab coat, and the silver watch my father had given me when I completed my forensic residency. The second hand ticked. I stared at it because dead women did not own ticking watches. “Breathe,” I whispered. My lungs obeyed badly. On the autopsy table lay a young woman with rain-dark hair and a crescent-shaped bruise around her throat. I knew her face. Nora Quinn. Twenty-two. Omega. Official cause of death: accidental drowning. Actual cause of death: never determined. Nora had been the first body in a chain of thirteen that ended with mine. My gaze snapped to the wall calendar. OCTOBER 3. The mating ceremony had taken place on November 2. Thirty days. I had gone back thirty days. The room tilted. I gripped the table, but the steel edge pressed directly beneath my left ribs and pain flared through me. I lifted my scrub top. A black crescent curved over my skin. Callum’s mating mark. He had given it to me at the altar seconds before he killed me. It should not have existed yet. In this time, Callum and I were engaged, publicly devoted, and still waiting for the ceremonial bond. But the mark was here—dark, complete, and tender around the edges. Proof that I had not dreamed my death. I stumbled to the sink and scrubbed my hands. Blood spiraled into the drain. Not fresh blood. Residue from Nora’s autopsy. I remembered this night now. The first time I lived it, I had accepted the sheriff’s drowning report, completed a surface examination, and gone home when Callum sent a car. I had not touched Nora with bare skin. I had not risked the gift my mother taught me to hide. Three days later, Nora’s body vanished from cold storage. Twenty-nine days later, I died. This time, I pulled off my gloves. Moon-Echo was illegal under Council law. The dead deserved silence, the elders said. What they meant was that the dead could contradict powerful men. I placed two fingers against Nora’s wrist. Cold swallowed me. Rain struck my face—her face. Mud ground into her knees. Someone stood over her beneath the old chapel bell. A woman. Dark hair. Navy coat. Silver blade. My hand. My face. Nora looked up at me and sobbed. “You’re not her.” The knife came down. The vision snapped. I tore my hand away, knocking an instrument tray to the floor. Steel clattered across tile. Nora’s official report said drowning. Her memory said murder. Worse, it said I was the murderer. The clock above the door clicked to 12:17 a.m. Nora’s eyes opened. Clouded pupils found mine. Her dead lips parted. “Mara?” she whispered.