Chapter 32

Chapter 32
POV DYLAN

Ever since I opened my eyes in that damned forest, I knew I had been reborn… or something close to it.

The pain in my abdomen burned like freshly stoked fire, my ribs cracked with every breath, and my head was a tangle of distorted images: screams, blood, an explosion… and that smile. That damn smile—cold, cruel—the last thing I saw before everything went dark.

Luciana.

I could recognize her among a thousand. Even blindfolded, even with a shattered soul, even with life slipping from my body… I’d know her. That woman had been my glory and my downfall.

But she wasn’t the one who saved me. Or helped me be reborn.

It was them. The Coldbloods.

Huge, wild wolves, exiled by the northern kingdom as lawless beasts. At first, I didn’t understand a thing. I thought I was dead. Thought I was in hell, or caught in some hallucination before eternal judgment. But no… it was another chance.

Another life.

The first days were a blur of madness and survival. They healed me their way: with fire, herbs, bites that burned like lava. The pack’s leader, an old one-eyed wolf with broken fangs, watched me for days without saying a word. Until he finally spoke.

—You’re not from here… but you’re more like us than anyone else.

He was right.

In my other life, I had led an organization the world feared. The mafia wasn’t a game—it was power, war, blood. I was born to lead, and I earned it through fire. But I screwed up. Because out of all the things I had, there was one I let go. Not by choice… but by cowardice.

Luciana was my queen. Cold, brilliant, dangerous like a blue flame. I loved her with everything I had. But when Sofía, her damn sister, told me she was carrying my child… I knew it was all going to fall apart.

Luciana didn’t forgive betrayal. She didn’t forgive anything.

I could’ve told her the truth. That it was a mistake. That Sofía had slithered into my bed like a viper, that I never loved her. But I was afraid. Afraid of what she’d do. Afraid of losing everything. And when Sofía proposed we overthrow her together—when she swore we could take control—I said yes.

The plan was simple. Deceive her. Corner her. Take her place. We planned everything. We had men, weapons, allies. We thought she was finished.

But we underestimated what she was.

We underestimated her ability to destroy everything before letting it be taken from her.

Luciana didn’t surrender. She never did. And that night, trapped in that warehouse where it was all supposed to end, we saw her walk in with a smile so icy it froze my bones.

She said nothing.

Just pressed a button.

The last thing I saw was the blast, the wave of fire, and her face lit up by the flames. Smiling. As if that were her final victory.

And then… darkness.

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Now, years or maybe centuries later, I was waking up in another world. Another reality. Another body, maybe. But the same demon inside me.

I became one of them. One of the Coldbloods. Not just a member. I earned their respect with strategy, intelligence, with the ferocity I learned in my past life. I started organizing them. Taught them to trade, to expand, to steal not just food—but power.

And that’s when I heard it: the king of the north had found his moon.

The news spread like wildfire through the shadows. Kilian, the wolf king, the one who exiled us, had claimed his fated mate.

My first reaction was indifference. Why would I care about that idiot’s mate?

But then, I saw the portrait.

A simple portrait, with soft strokes and warm colors. They said it was the closest image they had of her. A painting one of the kingdom’s artists had attempted after her presentation at the castle.

And I froze.

It was her.

Or almost. Not exactly the same, but the eyes, the jawline, the way her lips curved in indifference… it was Luciana.

Or her shadow.

I sent one of my men to investigate. I ordered him not to get too close, just observe, bring back information. He returned with more than I expected.

—She doesn’t act like a northern she-wolf —he said—. She’s strong, determined, but there’s something odd… like she doesn’t fully belong.

That detail ate at me.

Luciana had always been like that. A queen among humans. A wolf among monsters. She never fit in. Because she wasn’t born to adapt. She was born to destroy and rebuild in her own image.

But… it couldn’t be her.

Could it?

Was it possible she had come back too?

That fate—damn fate—had thrown us into the same game again?

Part of me wanted to go to the castle and see her with my own eyes. Confirm it. Feel her essence. Because if it was her… I’d know.

But another part… another part knew that if it was her, she was also dangerous. And if she was at Kilian’s side, I meant nothing to her.

Maybe she wouldn’t even remember me.

Or maybe she would. And that was even more terrifying.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do well: plan.

If the king of the north had recovered his moon, it meant the kingdom would grow stronger. That the bond would give them more power, more legitimacy, more allies. It was now or never.

The Coldbloods had been reduced to a forgotten pack. No territory, no resources, hunted like beasts. But I wouldn’t give up. Not in this life.

Not in the last one.

This time, I wouldn’t lose.

I infiltrated trade route maps. Contacted old allies. Made sure rumors of the uprising reached Kilian’s enemies. Everything had to be synchronized.

The strike had to be surgical.

But even as the plan unfolded, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

That moon.

That woman who changed everything.

Was it possible that the goddess had thrown us on the same board again just to watch us destroy each other? Or this time… to redeem us?

I didn’t know.

And I couldn’t afford to doubt.

Because if it was Luciana… and she was alive…

Then what started in another life, wasn’t over yet.

And this time, I would be the one to take the throne.

Even if I had to rip it from the northern king’s hands—bloodied and torn.