The Alpha's Mate Soul Is In the Wrong Body?

Chapter Two: A Body Not Her Own Darkness held her first.

Still. Heavy. Eternal.

Then came the pain.

Kaia gasped as her eyes flew open, the sour scent of blood filling her nose. Her body was sprawled at the base of a stone staircase, her cheek glued to the floor by half-dried blood. Every nerve in her body screamed.

Her fingers twitched.

Her arms trembled as she pushed herself upright. Her breath came in shallow, raspy gulps.

Her skull throbbed. The left side of her head was sticky and warm. Something had cracked—bone, maybe. She couldn’t tell.

Her voice broke out of her, confused and breathless.

“Where… am I?”

Nothing made sense.

This place was a hallway — narrow, damp, and stinking of mold. Pipes ran along the low ceiling, hissing faintly with every drop of condensation. The walls wept with moisture. The air was cold, heavy, hard to breathe.

She coughed once, the taste of copper thick on her tongue.

And then—footsteps.

Fast. Unbothered. Loud boots thundering down the stairs above.

Kaia turned her head just in time to see four girls descend into the hallway, led by one she recognized—but didn’t know how.

Fiona.

Something inside Kaia flinched.

Fiona took one look at her and curled her lip. “Well, look who survived gravity.”

Kaia blinked slowly, her body half-curled against the wall. “I… don’t… understand…”

“You never do,” Sandra muttered behind Fiona. “That’s the problem.”

“You tripped over a rope,” Cherry added, sounding bored. “It wasn’t even that hard to see. Typical.”

Kaia looked at them with blank confusion.

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “What are you staring at like that?”

Kaia swallowed hard. “Who… are you?”

Mila barked a laugh. “Oh gods, she’s playing amnesia now?”

“She’s faking it,” Sandra said. “Always so dramatic. Just like the time she ‘collapsed’ during training.”

Fiona stepped closer. “You think pretending you don’t know us will get you out of trouble?”

“I—” Kaia’s head pounded. “I don’t even know who I am…”

The silence was instant.

Then came the sneer.

Fiona’s eyes flared with disgust. “Of course. You didn’t get your wolf, so now you’re pretending to be someone else. You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

“I’m not pretending,” Kaia whispered.

Cherry’s voice curled with contempt. “You really forgot you’re the Alpha’s bastard? You forgot you humiliated the pack when you didn’t shift like everyone else? That you’re the only eighteen-year-old in this realm without a wolf?”

“She always was dead weight,” Mila said.

Kaia tried to push herself up, but Fiona’s boot slammed into her chest, knocking her flat.

And then it started.

The beating.

A punch to her face.

A kick to her ribs.

A knee to her back.

Her shoulder cracked against the wall.

Pain exploded in her bones. Her limbs wouldn’t move fast enough. Her vision blurred again—white-hot flashes dancing through her skull.

But even as they hit her, her mind didn’t collapse.

It watched.

Counted. Measured. Memorized.

Flash.

Rain pelting rooftop tiles.

Gunmetal in her hands.

A man’s face in her scope.

Her finger on the trigger.

Then betrayal.

A warning screamed too late.

A shot.

A fall.

Death.

Her eyes snapped open even as Sandra’s knee struck her gut.

She gasped. But still, no cry.

Her body screamed. But her mind was quiet.

Too weak to fight.

But not too weak to learn.

“She’s not even crying,” Mila muttered, wiping blood off her knuckles.

“She’s probably in shock,” Cherry said.

“She doesn’t get to play victim,” Fiona hissed. “She’s nothing. She’s always been nothing. My father should’ve drowned her as a pup.”

Kaia lay still, barely breathing.

“Let her rot,” Fiona spat, turning her back.

The four of them walked away, boots stomping across the wet stone, disappearing back up the stairs with cruel laughter trailing behind them.

Then—silence.

Kaia lay still.

Her blood pooled slowly beneath her.

Her thoughts were a blur of pain, memory, confusion—and something else.

Something deeper.

She didn’t know who she was supposed to be in this body.

But she knew she wasn’t that girl anymore.

Kaia Moonstone was dead.

And whoever she was now—she had already died once before.

It took nearly five minutes for her to crawl forward.

Her legs wouldn’t fully obey her. Her vision pulsed with pain. But she dragged herself through the narrow hallway, passing rusted pipes and damp walls. Each breath burned.

At the end of the hallway was a familiar wooden door.

She didn’t know how she recognized it.

Her fingers shook as she turned the knob.

The room was small, cold, and dark. Mold curled along the corners. A tattered mattress sat on the floor, sagging in the middle. The air felt starved of oxygen.

Kaia collapsed onto the mattress. Her arms gave out. Her head dropped into her blood-crusted hands.

And then, across the room—a cracked mirror.

Hung crooked on the wall.

She hadn’t noticed it before.

She stood, slowly, unsteadily, and approached.

The reflection nearly stole her breath.

The girl staring back looked like a ghost—pale, bruised, eyes dull with shock.

Kaia touched the mirror.

The glass was cold.

“This isn’t my face,” she whispered.

But it was hers now.

She didn’t know why. Or how.