Gone was the clean white ceiling of her home. She was expecting the sterile glow of hospital lights, her overprotective brothers pacing restlessly, her parents dropping their shifts to wait for her to wake. Instead, warped timber stared back at her, a jagged crack splitting across the surface like a crooked smile mocking her confusion.
What's going on here?
She tried to move, but her body was too weak to obey. Pain threaded through her limbs, heavy and constant, like her bones had been replaced with lead. The only part that seemed willing to respond was her head, so she forced it to turn, inch by inch, straining against the ache.
The sight that greeted her made her brows knit together. Wooden beams. Dust floating in narrow streaks of light. A structure that looked less like a room and more like a horse shelter, rough and unpolished. She blinked rapidly, struggling to force her disoriented mind to make sense of it.
What the hell is actually going on? Where exactly am I…?
She shifted her gaze downward. Her body rested on what seemed like a mat, thin and frayed, the kind used more for punishment than comfort. Her lips pressed into a trembling line. This must be a dream, right? Or am I really dead and this is my hell for overexerting my brothers and basking in their pampering with no remorse? But is that supposed to be a hell-worthy crime? It's not my fault I was born rich with three overprotective brothers who would agree to do anything for me. God wouldn't be that mean, would He? He wouldn't judge me for that… right?
Her nose crinkled. Ugh. This place smells like hell too. Wait… what is hell even supposed to smell like? Whatever. It doesn't matter. I just need to get out of this dream… or hell… whatever this is. I can't stay here for another moment.
She gritted her teeth. "I just have to move this body," she muttered hoarsely.
The sound startled her. Her throat felt like sandpaper, every syllable dragging raw across it. But what shocked her wasn't the pain, it was the voice itself. It didn't sound like hers at all.
Her eyes widened. How long have I been out for my voice to change this much? She frowned, forcing herself to push past the alarm. It's this a dream, hell or reality? Forget it. I need to move. I need to find some water. There has to be water somewhere…
The thought barely formed when it hit her. A sharp, white-hot bolt of pain tore through her skull. She staggered, clutching her head with both hands as nausea ripped through her gut. She didn't know which was worse, the blinding headache or the shock of realizing her arms had moved at all.
"Ghh...what… what's going on?!"
Memories. All at once.
They rushed in like a tsunami, slamming into her skull without warning. Images, fragments, voices. Chaotic. Fragmented. They cut into her consciousness like knives, and none of them were hers.
The rejection.
"I, Alpha Ares Grimhowl, reject you, Rhea Ulric of Grimhowl Pack, as my fated mate."
The memory carried with it a pain so deep it made her spine arch. It felt like reliving it in real time. A tearing inside her chest, a wound carved into the soul.
More followed.
Lies whispered until they grew into truths. Beatings that left ribs cracked. Hunger so raw it gnawed through her belly. Nights curled on a freezing floor, skin stuck to congealed blood and salt from tears.
The humiliation, gods, the endless humiliation.
The names spat like venom.
"Traitor's spawn."
"Filthy half-blood mongrel."
"Should've died with your parents."
Her only crime?
Her father, once a respected warrior, had loved a woman from the Ironfang Pack before the rivalry with Grimhowl broke out. They had mated. Built a life. Raised a daughter. Then came the war between packs, and everything burned.
Both parents had been killed, accused of betrayal. Her father was condemned for feeding information to the enemy, blamed for the deaths of the former Alpha and Luna. He had cried innocence until the end, but his pleas were crushed under the weight of rage and grief. Her mother had followed him swiftly, unable to survive the agony of losing a mate.
And somehow, Rhea Ulric had been the one left behind to carry their so-called betrayal.
Branded as Omega trash. Condemned. Marked unworthy of standing beside the new Alpha of Grimhowl Pack, the son of the ones her parents were accused of betraying.
Rhea fell back against the mat, her chest heaving as her wide eyes locked on the crooked crack in the timber ceiling.
Rhea Ulric? The name twisted through her mind. Isn't that the rejected omega? The one who starved to death in the book I dropped in rage?
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Shock burned through her veins. Did I just get reincarnated inside her body? Like I'm… actually living in a fantasy? Her lips parted, trembling. Oh my freaking God.
Her thoughts spiraled. She remembered herself whining in her own world, ranting about how much she wished she could just step inside the book and take care of everyone who dared hurt the omega.
Her throat worked as she whispered, almost afraid of her own voice, "I just got my wish."
The words chilled her. She couldn't believe it. Those transmigration and reincarnation stories I've read a million times… and now it's real? Am in one! Unbelievable.
She swallowed hard, her dry throat scratching like sandpaper. What am I supposed to do now?
Resolve sparked through her daze. I, for one, won't let anyone mess with me like they did with her. Thank goodness my brothers forced me into taekwondo. Nine belts. Ninth-degree black belt. The highest rank anyone alive can grind through. If not for the fact that the tenth degree is reserved for founders, for legends, I would have had that too.
A shaky laugh escaped her, bitter and weak. All that time I wondered why I had to train, why I had to learn how to fight when all I did afterward was stay indoors and bury myself in books. Turns out the universe was preparing me in advance. And what better way to use those skills than to deal with my namesake's bullies… and give her the justice she never got?
Her body screamed against her determination. She pressed her palm against the mat and muttered hoarsely, "I just need to find a way to treat this body first. Everything hurts."
She exhaled slowly, each breath catching against the pain. Gathering what little strength she had, she tried to sit up. Her ribs crackled like rusted hinges grinding under weight. The pain was sharp, unforgiving. Her breath hitched halfway through and she clutched her side, teeth clamped to stop a cry.
"You can do it, Rhea," she urged herself.
Finally, she managed to push upright, her bare leg brushing the cold, hard floor. She didn't dare stand, she knew those legs would never carry her yet.
Her lips trembled. "Those bastards didn't even spare any part of your body."
Her gaze dragged around the shelter until it landed on something. A small wooden cup, perched carelessly on a rickety stool by the wall. Her eyes widened, tears pricking.
"Water," she gasped, relief flooding through her at the sight. Her throat burned like fire, and she would have given anything to quench it. She leaned forward, testing her legs, ready to crawl if that's what it took. I don't care if I have to drag myself across this filthy floor. I need that water.
Bang!
The door of the horse-shelter-like room slammed open with violent force, crashing against the wall.
Rhea's head snapped toward the sound, her body rigid despite the pain.