Three months.

That’s how long I lingered in the void,trapped between life and death, suspended in a coma like a forgotten memory.

Three months.

That’s how long it took for Simon to move on. To remarry.

Three months.

That’s how long it took for my family to pretend I had never existed.

Maybe it wasn’t even that long. Maybe they let go of me far before the fall. Maybe it was the moment I turned sixteen and failed to present. Maybe that was the first death,quiet, invisible, and cruel.

But I was still there. Trapped in my own broken body. And I could hear everything.

Every word.

“Don’t know why she won’t just die already. The stupid bitch doesn’t want me to be happy.”

Simon’s voice cut through the sterile silence like glass against skin.

“It’s okay, love,” came Loac’s syrupy reply. “At least now we have an excuse. Everyone will understand why an Enigma like you remarried. You had a mate,however useless,and now you’re free. You tasted the joy of bonding. No one will blame you for wanting it again.”

I remember the shift in Simon’s voice then. Softer. Dripping with twisted affection.

“That’s why I love you. You’re not just beautiful, you’re smart.”

Then came the sounds. Wet kisses. Gentle moans. The rhythm of passion exchanged over my nearly lifeless body like I was nothing but a ghost.

My fists clenched in the silence of my mind. Those bastards. Their voices became knives. Their betrayal, a brand seared into my soul.

My own parents had come too. Not out of love. Not out of hope. My father stood at the foot of my bed like a judge at an execution.

“It’s time to pull the plug,” he said coldly. “There’s no point in keeping that thing alive.”

My mother,silent, distant, her voice unreadable—nodded.

“His sister is enough,” she whispered. “His existence would only stain the family name further.”

They left without another word. As if I were already a corpse. As if I had never been born at all.

I died a second time that day.

But not everyone agreed to bury me.

The nurses,two young women with trembling hearts and trembling hands,refused to let me go. One of them, Nelly, saw the twitch of my left leg. A week later, my right hand moved. Then my right leg. Then my left. Then… my eyes.

And on the ninety third day, I opened them.

---

I call it The Second Awakening.

When my eyes fluttered open, the world felt sharper, clearer,too bright and too dark all at once. My body, though battered, hummed with an unfamiliar strength. My heart, though cracked, beat with a calm that made no sense. As if something ancient within me whispered, Wait. Watch. Breathe.

The nurse who first saw me conscious dropped her tray and fell to the floor, stunned beyond reason. She didn’t scream. She couldn’t. She just stared at me like I was a ghost made flesh.

The doctor came running.

I said nothing. I simply watched.

But something was wrong. I could feel it in the way they looked at me. The first doctor, a Prime Alpha, had to be removed. I didn’t understand why,until the whispers started.

“He went into rut just standing near the patient.”

“They had to sedate him.”

“It’s the scent. It’s… it’s unnatural.”

They locked me in an isolation ward.

Labeled me as dangerous.

I was never dangerous before.

A specialist arrived soon after. An older woman, calm and quiet, with sharp eyes that studied me like a riddle she couldn’t quite solve. She was a reader,someone who could detect secondary genders, determine the truths written in blood and bone.

“What is your secondary gender?” she asked.

I blinked at her. “I haven’t presented yet.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

The nurses shifted uncomfortably. The doctors exchanged glances.

Something was wrong. I could feel it. Something had changed in me during those three months. I could sense the pit inside me,dark, bottomless, heavy. But there was also something else. A stillness. A quiet sea beneath the storm. Duality, in perfect tension.

I sat up slowly. “No one’s coming for me,” I said. “My parents wanted me dead. Let them think I am.”

They were stunned. They hadn’t expected me to know. But I had heard every word.

“I want to remain dead to them,” I added. “Let Leo Winslow die in that fall. Let what’s left rise from the ashes.”

The specialist moved closer.

Her voice was soft. Professional. But I heard the awe buried in it.

“Mr. Winslow,” she said carefully, “you’ve presented.”

A chill ran down my spine.

She hesitated for only a moment before delivering the verdict,the truth that had begun to take shape in my bones the moment I opened my eyes.

“You’re… a Luna.”

The room spun for a second. Not out of fear, but out of something deeper. Revelation.

A Luna.

A being beyond the standard hierarchy. Rarer than an Elite Prime. The highest class of Omega, one would dream of ever becoming. A carrier of dominance and submission. Lunas were said to be myths in our world,carriers of balance and chaos, of power that terrified those who thrived on control.

And I had become one.

No wonder my scent had triggered something in that Alpha. No wonder they called me dangerous. I was dangerous now.

Not because I was violent.

But because I had survived.

---

In the weeks that followed, my body recovered with unnatural speed. My scent was suppressed through high-grade blockers. Specialists came and went. They spoke in hushed tones when they thought I was asleep.

“He should’ve died.”

“There’s no precedent for this.”

“Lunas only appear once every few generations.”

“Should we report it?”

They didn’t know what to do with me.

But I did.

Let them believe I was reborn by accident.

Let them call it a miracle.

I knew better.

This was retribution in the making.

I had nothing left to lose. No family. No husband. No name.

But I had my truth. I had my strength. I had the slow-burning fire of vengeance blooming in my veins.

Simon Thorne thought he buried me.

Loac Socen thought he replaced me.

My parents thought I was a stain on their legacy.

But I am not a mistake.

I am not an accident.

I am the reckoning.

And I’m coming back.