Azura pressed her face against the car window like an excited golden retriever on its first road trip. Last night, everything had been shrouded in darkness, but now? Now she could actually see the pack territory in all its glory—and she was pleasantly surprised.
This werewolf world looked... exactly like the modern world she came from.
Modern houses. Paved roads. Streetlights. A convenience store in the distance that looked like it sold chips and soda.
The only things that screamed different were the ridiculously high-tech-looking fences snaking around the perimeter and the vast, intimidating forest that loomed beyond them like a green, furry monster.
She let out a breath of pure relief. Thank the heavens she'd landed in a modern-day werewolf novel. If she'd ended up in some medieval fantasy novel where bathing was a seasonal event and toilets were holes in the ground, she would've simply laid down and accepted death.
Medieval novels? Absolutely not. She couldn't survive without air conditioning and memes.
Jonathan, however, was not sharing in her bliss. He kept stealing glances at his sister from the driver's seat, watching her face morph through an entire emotional rollercoaster in the span of thirty seconds. Smile. Pout. Grimace. Dreamy sigh. Scowl. Grin.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Something was definitely wrong with her brain. Maybe Cora's hibernation had caused mental damage. Maybe she'd hit her head during the night. Maybe she'd been replaced by an alien. All options were on the table.
He decided not to comment on her facial gymnastics. Instead, he focused on the massive bag sitting on her lap like a prized possession.
They were supposed to be heading to the packhouse for a serious breakup conversation, but Azura looked like she was going on a luxury resort vacation.
His mind immediately went to the worst possible conclusion.
Was she carrying weapons? Was she planning to beat Alpha Adrian to death with a baseball bat wrapped in designer clothes? Was his mentally unstable sister about to commit a murder-suicide in the name of breaking up?
"That bag..." He asked slowly, eyeing it like it might explode. "What's inside?"
Azura tore her gaze away from the window, blinking like she'd just remembered she was holding a bag. She patted it affectionately like it was a loyal pet.
"Oh, this? Just some clothes. And snacks."
She smiled. A little too sweetly.
"...Snacks? For who?"
"For our sister!"
The car screeched to a sudden halt.
Azura's cheek slammed into the window with a loud THUNK.
"OW! WHAT THE HELL, JONATHAN?! Did you forget how brakes work?! Are you trying to give me a concussion?!"
Jonathan's hands were gripping the steering wheel like he was trying to strangle it. His eyes were wide, his jaw tight.
"Sister? You mean Selena? Since when did you acknowledge her as our sister—or even tolerate her existence? Two weeks ago, you slapped her so hard the pack healer had to realign her jaw. A month before that, you banned everyone from feeding her for two days, and then got mad when the healer gave her soup behind your back. A year ago, you pushed her down the stairs and told me—'Too bad she didn't die—she only broke her leg. But hey, if she'd croaked faster, it would've been boring!' You literally said 'it would've been boring,' Azura. You treated her attempted murder like a cancelled TV show."
He finally turned to face her fully, his expression a mix of exhaustion and genuine concern.
"And now, out of nowhere, you want to give her gifts?" He squinted at the bag. "So let me ask you honestly, and I want a straight answer: Are those clothes made of poison ivy? And are those snacks actually laxatives—or straight-up poison? Because if you're trying to kill her, at least have the decency to do it later or please, for the love of the Moon Goddess, just... don't. I hate her too, okay? But she just got rejected by her fated mate last night. The rejection backlash has her weaker than a newborn kitten. Even I wouldn't kick her right now. That's low. That's you low."
Azura's jaw unhinged so fast she almost heard a creaking sound. Her cheek was still throbbing from where it hit the window, but the pain was nothing compared to the sheer existential horror dawning on her face.
She knew from Selena's reaction yesterday that 'Azura' was a bully. A mean girl. A classic villainess. But this?
This was the kind of character that readers would create hate blogs about. The kind that got a satisfying death scene spanning three chapters. The kind that made you cheer when the heroine finally slapped her across the face.
She glanced at Jonathan. He wasn't innocent either, but at least he had a 'bully with boundaries' policy. He didn't try to kill Selena—he just ignored her and occasionally made snide comments. That's why Selena tolerated him more than she tolerated her.
Compared to 'Azura,' he was basically a saint.
Could she actually fix this mess? Her confidence was currently lower than a snake's belly in a ditch.
But then she remembered last night—Selena's face when Azura draped that jacket over her shoulders. The way her eyes had flickered up, wide and vulnerable, like a stray dog that had been kicked too many times but still hoped, desperately hoped, that this time the hand reaching out might actually be offering kindness instead of another blow.
Azura swallowed hard.
Okay. She could work with that. She had to work with that.
Because if she didn't, she'd be stuck in a novel where the only character development she got was a tombstone or worst, prostitution.
Azura took a deep breath, then turned to Jonathan with the most sincere face she could muster, which, given the situation, looked like a constipated pug.
"Brother, I need to come clean with you. I have seen the light. I have repented. I want to make things right with Selena." She placed both hands on her chest with the gravity of a martyr accepting her fate. "So yes—the clothes and snacks I brought her are completely, 100%, certified poison-free. They are high-quality, uncontaminated, and as pure as a baby's freshly bathed butt. A BABY'S BUTT, Jonathan. I would stake my entire wardrobe on it."
Jonathan stared at her like she'd just declared herself the Queen of Antarctica.
"Two nights ago, I had a nightmare about all the terrible things I did to Selena. And in that nightmare, I saw myself for what I truly am—TRASH! A big-breasted monster! A shameless bully! A DISGUSTING SHE-WOLF who makes the rest of the species look bad! In fact, I'm now convinced that the only reason Cora is in hibernation mode is because she's ASHAMED to be stuck inside this body! She looked at my soul and said, 'Nope, I'm out.'"
She sniffled dramatically, wiping an invisible tear.
"THAT is why the Azura sitting beside you now is a reformed, kind-hearted, helpful person. I am ANGEL AZURA. And since I have repented, YOU have to repent too! Forgive Selena! Make up with her! Join the Selena Redemption Train! Choo-choo!"
Jonathan opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again, like a fish having an existential crisis.
There was so much he wanted to say. So many things to unpack. But the suitcase of his mind had exploded, and he didn't know where to start picking up the pieces.
His sister—the same sister who once laughed while Selena was picking glass shards out of her palm—was now delivering a sermon that sounded like it belonged on a televangelist channel at 3 AM. He half-expected her to ask for a donation.
Just as he finally gathered the mental strength to respond, a black SUV rolled up beside them. Enforcers. Probably wondering why two pack members were parked in the middle of the road having what looked like an intervention.
Jonathan let out a long, tired sigh—the kind that carried the weight of a thousand questionable life choices. He rolled down his window, nodded at the enforcers, and when they recognized him, they gave a respectful bow and drove off.
As he rolled up the window, his face adopted the expression of a man who had just solved a very sad puzzle. He glanced at Azura, then at the road ahead, and nodded to himself with grim certainty.
Yep. Her brain had clearly packed its bags and gone on vacation without telling anyone. Breaking up with Adrian is no longer just a good idea—it's a public safety measure.
He started the car and began driving toward the packhouse, his hands steady on the wheel, his voice eerily calm.
"Azura... after you break up with Alpha Adrian... I'm going to take you to the pack healers."
He didn't say the rest out loud.
To scan your skull and see if there's anything left inside.
"Huh? What for? I'm perfectly—"
Jonathan cut her off with the authority of a man who wasn't ready to hear another sermon about baby butts and big-breasted sinner.
"And about forgiving Selena..." His jaw tightened. "I'm going to need some time. I know it wasn't her fault. Logically, I know that. But her actions—whether she meant them or not—got our father killed and shattered this family. Dad died. And Mom? She couldn't handle it. She walked out on us a year later. Just left. No note. No goodbye. We haven't heard a word from her since. So if you're genuinely serious about forgiving Selena, and this isn't some elaborate long-con to psychologically torment her again, then you're going to have to give me time. A lot of it."
Azura's brain processed this new information like a computer trying to run too many tabs at once.
Oh. Ohhh. So THAT'S why they hate her. Selena didn't just break a vase—she accidentally detonated the entire family tree. That's... actually really tragic. And also explains why 'Azura' has the emotional range of a brick wall.
She wanted to ask more. To dig deeper. To understand the full backstory so she could navigate this mess like a pro.
But one look at Jonathan's face—tight, exhausted, holding back a decade of grief—made her clamp her mouth shut.
Okay. Not now. Read the room, Azura Luo. The room is currently a funeral.
A few moments later, the car rolled through the massive gates of the grand manor. The same place she'd woken up after entering this body in last night. The same place where she'd first laid eyes on the female lead who was about to get the shock of her life.
Azura's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
We're finally here! Porn female lead, your new stalker has arrived! And I come bearing snacks—not poison, I swear!