Reborn by Moonlight: My Revenge to Alpha

Strong hands seized me from behind, gripping my arms and pinning them back against the wall. I gasped, struggling, but the hold was unyielding.

"What do you think you're doing in here?" Idris's voice was low, deadly, each word laced with anger.

"I—I was just leaving tea," I stammered, my heart hammering in my chest as his grip tightened, pressing me against the cold stone wall. "I thought you weren't here. I didn't mean to intrude—"

I felt a brief pause in his movement.

His face was inches from mine, his eyes narrowed with a cruel glint. "And yet, you did."

I swallowed, fighting back the panic rising in my chest. "I'm sorry, my lord. I truly didn't mean—"

"Do you understand the consequences of stepping into a place you don't belong?" His tone was dangerously calm, each word sending a shiver down my spine.

I bit my lip, feeling the fear coil tighter. Idris wasn't just angry—he looked ready to act on his threat, and I knew that begging would only make things worse. My mind raced, searching for a way out, but his gaze held me captive, my heart pounding louder with every passing second.

Just then, a soft voice called from the hallway.

"Idris, is everything alright?"

Cassandra appeared at the door, her face pale as she took in the scene before her. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, her gentle eyes filled with concern.

"Please, Idris," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Isadora didn't mean any harm. She was just doing her duty."

Idris's gaze shifted to Cassandra, his expression hardening, but after a long pause, he released me, stepping back with a sneer.

"Remember this, Isadora," he said coldly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "If you ever enter this room without permission again, I won't be so lenient."

I nodded, my body trembling as I struggled to steady myself. He turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Cassandra helped me steady myself, her touch soft but firm. "Are you alright?" she asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

I forced a shaky smile, nodding as I tried to regain my composure. "Yes... Thank you."

I had come too close this time.

As I made my way back to my quarters, I felt the weight of Idris's threat hanging over me like a dark cloud.

The dull ache on my neck lingered as I stared into the mirror that night, inspecting the faint red marks Idris had left behind. I touched the wound lightly, wincing at the sensitivity.

A pang of anger coursed through me, and I felt my teeth clench. He had left me with more than just a reminder of his strength; he had left me feeling helpless—a feeling I loathed.

But then I caught my own gaze in the mirror, a steely look I hadn't seen in years. I had already died once! If I could endure that, what else could he do to frighten me?

The next morning, I rose with new resolve.

After breakfast, I headed to the garden where the young wolf pup awaited his meal. The wolf had become part of my daily tasks—a task I both dreaded and found myself drawn to. The pup, wild and unruly, would often growl at me in warning as I approached, his amber eyes narrowed with distrust.

But it didn't bother me. In many ways, his caution felt... understandable.

As I entered the garden, I saw the young wolf waiting, his small form stiff and watchful. His leg was slightly swollen, an injury I hadn't noticed the day before, likely from his attempts to explore beyond the safety of the garden wall.

I set down the food, then retrieved the medicine box. The wolf growled in response, his eyes flicking from me to the box, then back again, as if to say he didn't trust whatever I was holding.

"Don't be afraid of me," I murmured softly, carefully crouching down with the bandages and medicine in hand. "I just want to wrap your wound. Once I finish, I won't touch you for any longer than that."

The wolf's growling quieted a bit, though his gaze was still sharp, watching my every move. Slowly, I reached forward, giving him every chance to run if he wished, but he didn't move. I felt the smallest tug of relief as he allowed me to approach, and I took my time, gently wrapping his leg with the gauze and being careful not to tug too tightly. As I finished, I kept my promise, moving back to give him space.

Just as I rose to my feet, dusting off my skirts, I felt someone watching me. Turning slightly, I saw Idris lounging nearby, relaxing on the ivy-covered stone bench. His eyes flickering with an unreadable intensity.

I said nothing, still angry from the night before, and continued with my tasks, determined to ignore him. I could feel his gaze, silent and unblinking, and for some reason, the small part of me that longed to break his icy demeanor wanted to ask why he was staring.

But I swallowed the impulse and continued my work, feeling his presence like a shadow.

Finally, Idris moved closer, his footsteps nearly silent as he approached. He held something in his hand, and before I could question him, he held it out to me—a small, elegant jar of ointment.

"This should help with your neck," he said quietly, his expression calm, almost indifferent. "It's a high-quality remedy."

I looked down at the jar, surprised by the gesture. A part of me wanted to ask if he felt guilty about what he had done, but I doubted he'd ever admit to something like that. Instead, I accepted the ointment without a word, though my mind buzzed with questions.

Just as I wondered if he would say more, movement caught both our attention near the edge of the garden. A group of young girls clustered outside the low garden wall, their wide eyes peeking eagerly through the small cracks in the stone.

The moment Idris turned toward them, I heard a few gasps and whispers from the girls, each sound charged with excitement. They were giggling and whispering to each other, their cheeks flushed pink as they stole glances at him.

"Is that him?" one girl whispered excitedly, her voice carrying over the stone wall.

"Lord Idris," another one sighed, clearly enraptured.

I shot a quick look at Idris, expecting him to ignore them or maybe tell them to leave, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he continued on with what he was doing.

The girls didn't take their eyes off him, whispering and giggling among themselves, each hoping he might look their way or acknowledge them in some way.

I turned away, unable to believe what I was seeing. He wasn't chasing them off, wasn't giving them his usual cold stares. He was simply... letting them be.

"Those girls have terrible taste," I muttered under my breath, watching as the group outside fawned over him. All they see is his handsome exterior, but they're blind to his dark, cold heart.

"Even with those random girls, he's gentler than he's ever been to me," I muttered, clenching my fists. "Not to mention how he treats Cassandra. Hypocrite."