Diversion

In my past life, I was dismissed as a weak, wolfless Omega, yet I was fated to Keaton Sexton, the most powerful Alpha of the Blackwood Moon pack. But at the Matriarch's annual gala, my stepsister Allegra and a rogue wolf named Freddy set a lethal trap for me. They publicly tricked me into accepting a wooden box supposedly containing a rare healing flower, but hidden beneath it was deadly wolfsbane. Allegra immediately "discovered" the poison, screaming that I was conspiring with a rogue to murder our pack members. Keaton, enraged and believing I had betrayed our sacred bond for another man, threw me to the pack's merciless justice. My innocent-looking stepsister cried fake tears of heartbreak as the warriors dragged me away. I was stripped of my title, tortured, and ultimately executed. My blood stained the forest floor, my wolf silenced forever. Until the moment I died, I couldn't understand why my own family wanted me dead. Why did Keaton, my fated mate, look at me with such absolute disgust? Why was my innocence so easily shattered by a pathetic lie? Then, a blinding pain in my wrist snapped my eyes open. I was back at the gala, fifteen years old again, standing right in front of a furious Keaton as he accused me of meeting the rogue. This time, instead of fighting him and defending a snake, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. "I'm sorry, Keaton. I only belong to you." Allegra's perfect smile froze. She had no idea the weak sister she was trying to frame had just returned from hell to drag her down.

I woke up in the tangled black silk sheets of the Mafia Don's bed, my skin still burning from his ruthless touch in the dark. The heavy door burst open, and his pristine wife, Bianca, looked at my bruised collarbones with visceral hatred. Instead of having me killed for soiling her husband's bed, she offered a devil's bargain. "You will take my place in his bed. You will be a shadow in the dark." In my past life, I foolishly accepted, thinking her money would pay for my dying mother's hospital bills. I didn't realize the untouchable Mafia Queen was barren and just needed a disposable incubator. After I endured the Don's violent possession and birthed the Moretti heir, they cut off my mother's medicine. Then, they dragged me to a remote warehouse and suffocated me with a wet mattress to bury their dirty secret forever. Until my last agonizing breath, I didn't understand why my absolute submission and suffering were rewarded with such a brutal, meaningless death. Opening my eyes again, I was back on the morning after the Don first claimed me. I knelt on the Persian rug, weeping tears of fake gratitude as Bianca handed me the cash. But the moment my escort looked away, I didn't take her fertility herbs. I bought a bitter root from an alley witch to keep my womb empty. This time, I won't give the Don a child. I'll become his darkest obsession, and use his lethal power to burn this entire family to the ground.

Three days before the wedding. I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman. Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress. The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem. It didn't spell Elena. It read Sofia. He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name. Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife. He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance. I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared. "The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?" "Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport." "Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys." I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday. He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead.

After a fire stole my family and my voice, my boyfriend Jermain promised to be my shield. I was the silent composer behind our band's success, fighting to speak again-for him. Then I overheard him call me "damaged goods, a millstone around my neck." His betrayal escalated. He let his new flame publicly humiliate me, then abandoned me-injured and deafened-in a storm, calling me a "liability." The boy who promised to be my voice was gone. In his place was a stranger who saw me only as a burden he was tired of carrying. So I vanished. Three years later, with my voice and hearing restored, I returned not as a victim, but as a celebrated artist. He's back, begging for a second chance, but he's about to learn that the "damaged goods" he threw away are now priceless.

I took a bullet for my husband, Colt, a decorated Delta Force operator. The injury left me barren, but he swore I was all he ever needed. Seven years later, I found him in a restaurant with another woman and a six-year-old boy who looked just like him. The boy called him "Dada." My world shattered when I learned his family, his friends, and even my own father knew about his secret life. They all watched as he paraded his mistress, Chelsey, and their son, Jemal, in front of me. He even admitted I was just a "means to an end" for his family's legacy. When Jemal went missing, Chelsey accused me of kidnapping him. Colt believed her. He locked me in our cellar for three days, a punishment for a crime I didn't commit. "He's not a bastard!" Colt roared when I questioned if the boy was even his. "He's my son! My blood!" But his eyes darted away, filled with uncertainty. As I stumbled out of the cellar, bruised and broken, my best friend arrived. "The divorce papers are filed, Em," she whispered fiercely. "It's done." I looked back at Colt, standing stunned on the porch. His empire of lies was crumbling, and I was finally free.

I stood just outside the glass patio doors, holding a tray of fresh towels. Tonight was a celebration of Coleton Barron' s full recovery, the tech world' s golden boy back on his feet after three years of my dedicated physical therapy. But then, his ex-girlfriend, Charly Mack, appeared. When a stray splash from the pool hit her dress, Coleton shoved me aside to protect her, sending me headfirst into the concrete edge of the pool. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion, only to see Coleton comforting Charly, who was faking tears. He didn' t defend me when she claimed we were "just friends." His mother, Esther Cotton, then sent me a text with a five-million-dollar check, telling me I didn' t fit into his world. Back at his penthouse, Charly accused me of poisoning Coleton with soup and breaking his father' s cherished wooden box. He believed her, forcing me to drink the soup and leaving me to collapse on the kitchen floor. I ended up in the hospital again, alone. I didn' t understand why he would believe her lies, why he would hurt me after everything I had done. Why was I just a temporary fix, easily discarded? On his birthday, I left him a text: "Happy Birthday, Coleton. I' m leaving. Don' t look for me. Goodbye." I turned off my phone, dropped it in a trash can, and walked toward a new life.

The email glowed on my screen, a full scholarship to MIT. A surge of pure joy, a feeling so unfamiliar it almost hurt. This was my ticket out, the thing that would finally make them see me. But when I ran downstairs, laptop clutched like a holy relic, my family was gathered around my younger brother, Caleb, celebrating his acceptance to a local community college. Their banner read, "Congratulations Caleb!" "I got in," I said, my voice softer now. "MIT. With a full scholarship." My father glanced at my screen, then back at Caleb, admiring a new, expensive watch. "That's nice, Ethan," he said, flat and dismissive. "But we're a little busy right now. It's Caleb's big day." My sister scoffed, "Always trying to steal the spotlight, aren't you?" Later, my printed acceptance letter and plane ticket for orientation were torn to unrecognizable pieces in the trash. It wasn't an accident. It was a message. My mother waved it off, "It's just paper. Stop being so dramatic." "Dramatic?" My voice rose, shaking. "This was my ticket to MIT! You destroyed it!" My father boomed, "Don't you raise your voice! You are upsetting your brother on his special night." Caleb smirked from behind him, admiring his new watch, a symbol of his victory. A cold clarity washed over me. It had always been like this. My one tangible hope of escape lay in the garbage. They hadn't just thrown away paper; they had thrown away my future, showing me my dreams meant less than protecting Caleb from his inadequacy. I was a stranger in my own home, a perpetual villain in their narrative. Was I too ambitious, too smart? Was my very existence an inconvenience? My throat ached with a dry sob. I felt like those scraps-torn, discarded, worthless in their eyes.

The world snapped back into focus, not with the acrid smell of my own burning flesh, but the sterile scent of the ER. Just moments ago, flames engulfed me as my colleagues stood by, fire extinguishers in hand, watching me die. Now, I was whole, unscarred, alive. Then I saw her: Dr. Emily Hayes, the newly arrived resident, her eyes wide and eager. I knew that innocent smile hid poison. I had lived through it-I had died because of it. Her first "prediction" came quickly: a critically injured patient whose life she calmly declared over. Dr. Peterson, our attending physician, was furious, but her chilling words echoed when the patient died on our table, despite our best efforts. Then came the second "vision" -an ambulance crash she foresaw, just as I volunteered to take the call. My fiancé, Dr. Ryan Chen, the man I thought I knew, pulled me aside, telling me I was reckless and Emily was right. He sided with her, not me, in front of everyone. I saved that patient, defying her "prophecy," but then the ambulance Emily warned us about was found with cut brake lines. And the patient I saved died, unexpectedly, of an aneurysm. Emily' s twisted predictions found their way, solidifying her power and painting me as the one who defied fate. She whispered, "As long as Sarah Miller is working in this ER, she puts everyone in danger. Her energy, it attracts disaster." They all stared at me, their faces not with suspicion, but raw terror. They had let me burn once. Not again. This time, I would expose her.

My name is Ava Hayes, and according to the little gold-embossed placard next to the painting, I was the artist. But tonight, my real title was "trophy," paraded at the Vance Gallery, a glittering cage built by Ethan Vance. He' d bought my family' s gallery, swooping in like a vulture when my father' s business teetered on the edge of bankruptcy. Then, my younger sister Lily got sick, a rare autoimmune disease with astronomical medical bills. Suddenly, Ethan wasn' t just a bitter ex-fiancé; he was the only lifeline, holding Lily' s future-and mine-in his cruel hands. He made me beg for it, forcing me into a contract: his "protégé," his grateful, reclaimed stray. I was trapped, my art and my soul enslaved, all to save Lily and my father' s legacy. He wanted to break my spirit, to own the one thing that had walked away from him. Today, he pushed me too far, forcing me to play servant at his lavish party, publicly humiliating me. He paraded Lily on his arm, giving her the diamond necklace I had desired, right in front of my face. Watching Lily' s fragile adoration for him, her innocence twisted into a weapon against me, something inside me snapped. If he wanted to destroy me, I would burn my own life to the ground and make sure he was standing in the middle of the fire with me.

The last thing I remembered was freezing to death in my garage, alone. My fiancée, Jenny, had taken all our savings, not for us, but for her lover Mark Todd's son, Leo. She didn't even seem sad when she found me, just annoyed my death inconveniently interrupted Leo's birthday plans. I gasped, my eyes flying open to a warm morning sun in my own bed. The date on my phone was a full year before my demise. A second chance. My old auto shop teacher called, offering a full scholarship to an automotive engineering program in California. In my first life, I turned him down, sacrificing my dreams to stay with Jenny in our small Ohio town. But this time, a cold, hard resolve filled me. "I'll take it," I said, my voice firm and clear, my heart an ice block. Just then, Jenny walked in, laughing with Mark and Leo, acting like they owned my house. Leo, the spoiled kid, demanded I make him mac and cheese, and Jenny instantly defended him, whispering, "He's just a kid! Don't be so petty." I watched her doting on them, making them dinner with practiced ease, completely ignoring me and my own cold meal. Why did I let her walk all over me, drain my bank account, and destroy my future? This time, I felt nothing but a powerful decision. I was already gone. They just didn't know it yet.

My world shattered when our first son, Noah, "died" after my C-section. My husband, Ethan, seemed heartbroken, convincing me a new baby would heal our shared sorrow. I truly believed he was my solace. Then, at a prenatal visit, I overheard Ethan's chilling confession: "Noah is thriving with Cassandra." My son was alive! And our unborn daughter, Olivia, was also promised to his childhood sweetheart. Ethan's grief was a monstrous lie. My marriage was a cold, calculated deception; I was a mere incubator. His "care" became suffocating control, revealing Noah's happy life with Cassandra. The ultimate horror: he plotted a non-consensual hysterectomy during Olivia's birth to silence me permanently. My tears turned to icy fury. How could the man I loved steal my children, fake their deaths, and plan to mutilate me? The profound injustice consumed my soul. When Olivia was "born" and "died" in his vile narrative, followed by my forced hysterectomy, I refused to crumble. Playing the grieving victim, I secretly honed a fierce resolve. Amy Walker, no longer just a victim, was now armed with their dark secrets, ready to ignite their world.

For five long years, I was Jane Doe, Alexander Sterling' s quiet, unassuming assistant, secretly working tirelessly to save his company from the brink of collapse. I poured my life, and even our family' s legendary Westbrook Star diamond, into the anonymous investment that kept him afloat, all for the man I deeply loved. Day in and day out, I remained by his side, hoping he would finally see past the "Jane" I presented and recognize the woman who sacrificed everything for him. But then, Isabelle Vance, all wide eyes and soft sighs, arrived, and suddenly, I was invisible, my every effort unacknowledged, my devotion unseen. His attention, his genuine laughter, the warmth I once cherished, was entirely for her, the new favorite who simply had to ask. I watched silently as Isabelle and her cruel assistant mocked me, sabotaged my work, and ultimately framed me for a ridiculous attack, turning him completely against me. In a horrifying public spectacle, Alexander, blinded by Isabelle' s lies, ruthlessly fired me, branding me a dangerous troublemaker without a second thought. Left bleeding on the sidewalk after his security guards physically coerced me out, my reputation was systematically shredded, every sacrifice I had made for him now spitting in my face. The ultimate betrayal left me numb, the years of silent devotion to a man who couldn't see me crushing my spirit beneath the weight of his callous disregard. Wasted years, unacknowledged love, and now, public humiliation – the bitter taste of utter betrayal mingled with the cold drizzle on my face, solidifying my decision. Yet, a strange clarity settled over me as the five-year term for the Westbrook Star ended. Jane Doe was dead, irrevocably gone. As the Westbrook Star returned to my possession, a cold, unyielding fury replaced the pain, signaling Seraphina Westbrook was finally coming home, ready to build a new life with the steadfast Ethan Hayes and leave Alexander Sterling to the bitter regret he so richly deserved.

The Hamiltons' garden party was a symphony of social graces, too sweet with expensive perfume and the forced laughter of people I barely knew. My fiancé, Captain Alex Hamilton, looked sculpted from a dream, charming everyone as usual. Our future, everyone believed, was perfectly laid out. But something had been off. His phone always angled away, his eyes distant. Then, from the old conservatory, I heard voices drift– Lex' s and Bree Evans' . "She can't find out, Bree. Not about us, not about the baby," Lex whispered. Baby? My breath caught in my throat. Bree whined about "their son," and Lex replied about securing "Sarah' s substantial trust fund" after marriage. Disgust rose hot and choking. He wasn't just cheating; he was planning to use my fortune to fund his entire secret life with another woman and his child. My world tilted violently. The man I was about to marry, the hero everyone admired, was a vile, calculating fraud. This wasn't a mistake; it was a meticulously planned betrayal, a monstrous financial scam camouflaged as love. How could I have been so utterly blind to such cold, professional deception? A sudden, cold calm settled over me. I walked back into the party's noise, slipped the gaudy engagement ring from my finger, and faced him. "I believe this belongs to you," I said, my voice clear. "Our engagement is off. I overheard you. About your son." His face drained. The fight was just beginning. I was going to marry Ethan Cole.

Our third anniversary. Olivia, CEO of AuraTech, championed integrity, given her father's public betrayal. She'd even insisted on an ironclad infidelity clause in our prenup – "my guarantee." Loyal to my Yale sweetheart, I flew to San Francisco, planning a perfect surprise. But the surprise was brutally mine. Pushing her office door, I found Leo Maxwell, the obsessed artist she claimed to despise, half-dressed on her sofa, draped in my gift: her favorite cashmere throw. His insolent smirk confirmed my deepest dread. Olivia rushed in, panicking to quietly usher him out, not horrified by his presence. She later kept that throw, carefully folded, reeking of betrayal. A love bite on her neck, secret messages, and security footage of their intimacy in our marital bed followed. Twice, she abandoned me in life-or-death situations, always choosing him. The woman preaching integrity was a brazen, convincing liar. Her hypocrisy was a vile taste. My trust, shattered. I wouldn't be humiliated like her mother. Could her own "armor" against betrayal truly be my weapon now? Cold, hard resolve ignited. This marriage, a complete lie. I retrieved the prenup: Section 3, Paragraph B – the infidelity clause. It was time for devastating consequences. I dialed Maya Sharma, Olivia's fiercest rival. My proposition would interest her greatly.

I was just an art student from Philly, trying to build a new life. A small, hopeful spark ignited when Julian Vance, from prestigious Blackwood University, reconnected with me after years. He seemed different, quieter, and even asked me out to a party. But I never made it to that party. Instead, I was ambushed in the school woods by Marcus, Kevin, and Dave – Julian’s friends – a night that became a blur of pain and terror. And through my agonizing tears, I saw Julian himself, standing at the edge, watching. Then, he walked away, joining them as they left me shattered. Years later, the nightmare returned as Julian violently dragged me into his car. I was held captive in a secluded lake house for months, enduring his baffling accusations and escalating abuse. He tortured me, broke my leg, and chained me like an animal, claiming I’d betrayed his family and taunted his deepest secrets. His sister, Olivia, joined the torment, kicking me, sneering, amplifying my suffering. Even my desperate attempt to end it all was thwarted; they wouldn't even grant me that peace. What unthinkable crime had I supposedly committed to deserve such barbaric cruelty? What kind of twisted debt did they believe I owed, justifying months of physical and psychological torment? How could the Julian who once seemed genuinely kind twist into this monstrous captor, especially when his friends were the true architects of my long-ago trauma? My world was a vortex of agonizing confusion and terror. Then, Julian's powerful mother, Eleanor Vance, offered an unexpected lifeline: marry Julian and be bound to him, or disappear forever with a new identity. Without a moment’s hesitation, fueled by a visceral need for freedom, I chose to vanish. I had to escape, at any cost.

On the tenth anniversary of our marriage, I received a photo of my husband in bed. The mistress flaunted it in front of me, boasting, "The one who is not loved is the real third party." I laughed uncontrollably. She may not know that besides her and other mistresses, my husband also has a "moonlight" hidden in his heart for ten years. In order to be with the "moonlight", he even made up stories like the "moonlight" being his cousin.

Fear follows Alpha Samson wherever he goes. As the ruthless leader of the Blackthorn pack, he and his beast, Savage, bow to no one. But when a haunting scent leads him to a neighboring pack's dungeon, he finds his fated mate-bloody, broken, and chained to the wall. Alora is a half-wolf, half-witch hybrid falsely accused and left to die. But her abusers made one fatal mistake: they touched the mate of a monster. Rescued by the fierce Alpha, Alora begins a journey of healing that uncovers a lifetime of lies. She isn't just a survivor; she's a weapon. Together, Samson and Alora will unleash hell on those who wronged her, unearthing dark family secrets and claiming the crown that was stolen from her birth.

I was three months pregnant when the car hit me. Lying there, barely hanging on, I called my husband-Alpha Ethan-over and over. No answer. When I finally woke up from the pain, I saw a post from his first love, Ivy. "Thank you, Alpha, for knowing how scared I am of the dark and staying with me all night. He even cleared his whole schedule today to take me to the auction, just to give me the best gift in the world. I'm so happy!" Right then, it hit me. While I was fighting to protect our child, he was with another she-wolf. I calmly liked her post and put my phone away. Since he chose his first love, I chose to let go. Seven days from now, I'd leave his world for good-with our child.

For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises. Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body. Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union." Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family." Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless. But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place. Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms. When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route. What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected. He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years. And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.

For three years, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building Blackwood Group for Alec, my Alpha and the man I thought was my mate. But on the day of our work anniversary, I stood outside his office door and heard him talking with his Beta, shattering my entire world. "Kay is just a wolfless Omega, useful for paperwork," Alec sneered coldly. "The bonding ceremony is just a show for the elders. The real Luna, the one who carries the bloodline that matters, is Breanne. I'm transferring all of Kay's core project files to Breanne tomorrow. Let her take the credit." He even texted me later, telling me to wear a blue dress to the upcoming gala because it made me look "obedient." I had turned down a Wharton scholarship for this man. I had spent countless nights fixing his mistakes, building his empire, and giving him my youth. Yet to him, I was nothing but a disposable placeholder, expected to smile and bow while another woman stole my life's work and my place by his side. The agonizing pain in my chest didn't break me; it forged me into ice. I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't beg. Instead, I wiped his servers clean of every strategy I had ever created, left a wax-sealed resignation on his desk, and accepted a job offer from his most ruthless rival.

I was waiting at the Registry Hall to formalize my mate bond with Gabe, my childhood sweetheart and the Alpha of our pack. He was thirty-two minutes late. When I finally found him in a private VIP lounge, his hands were buried in my cousin's hair, their lips locked together. Hailee was supposed to be my maid of honor. Instead of apologizing, Gabe looked me dead in the eye and used his Alpha authority to publicly reject me. The severing of our ten-year bond tore my soul apart, but the nightmare didn't stop there. My grandfather immediately called, demanding I clean up a mess Hailee had made. When I refused, he disowned me on the spot, froze every single one of my bank accounts, and stripped me of my family name. Within hours, my entire pack erased my existence, gleefully announcing Hailee as their new Luna. I had given my entire life to a family and a man who discarded me like worthless trash the second I became inconvenient. I was left broken, humiliated, and utterly penniless in the blink of an eye. But as I stumbled out of that sterile hall, a terrifyingly beautiful stranger stepped out of the shadows, radiating a primal power that made my knees weak. He was Caden Sinclair, the ruthless Lycan King, and he was dodging a forced political union of his own. "You need a shield. I need a wife. Marry me." Without hesitation, I signed the Eternal Vow.

"I reject you," Alpha Damon sneered, looking down at the shivering Omega. "I need a Queen, not a servant." Aria bowed her head and accepted her fate, but she took a secret with her when she fled into the night: the Alpha's heir growing in her womb. Five years later, Aria returns to the city, no longer the weak girl who scrubbed floors. She is powerful, wealthy, and stunning. She thought she could hide from her past, but fate has a cruel sense of humor. Her new business partner is none other than Alpha Damon. When Damon sees her, he realizes the mistake he made. He wants his mate back. But then he sees the little boy with his same grey eyes hiding behind her legs. "Who is the child, Aria?" Damon growls, his possessiveness flaring. Aria smiles coldly. "Someone you rejected."

For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love. But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night. Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine. Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love. And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim. But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go. "Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away." He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door. And when I finally left his pack. I took more than just my broken heart with me.

Harlyn thought her life would finally change for the better after a night with the alpha king who marked her, claiming her to be his. If only she knew what awaited her. She was supposed to be a quick lay, to satisfy his urge but it felt so good to be with her that he lost his senses for a moment and sank his fangs into her neck, marking her and accidentally claiming her as his. But he couldn't keep her, she was of no use to him socially, she was a lonely orphan who wasn't able to fully transform after she turned eighteen and therefore had no place in his elite life. He was the alpha king and he could only pick a mate that matched his status. There was only one thing to do. Reject her. That didn't play out like he had imagined. And just like that, a whole new journey begins for the both of them.

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."

I was born to be Alpha Damien Carlisle's fated Luna. Instead, I lived like a stray dog in his pack. For one year, I watched everyone worship Lilith Vance, his fragile first love, while they mocked me as the barren mate he was too ashamed to mark. Then I learned the truth. His mother had been forcing brutal fertility herbs into my body. His sister threw an illegal sterility poison at me. And Damien, my own mate, had been secretly lacing my food with wolfsbane contraceptives for months. When I confronted him, he did not deny it. "I couldn't let you get pregnant," he said coldly. "If Lilith found out you were carrying my heir, the shock might kill her." I finally understood. I was never his Luna. I was his bloodline. His legal womb. His family's insurance policy. The moment Lilith coughed up blood, Damien abandoned me without looking back. So I ran to the capital and begged the Alpha King to grant me a formal Rejection. He threw my petition away unread. My mate had poisoned me. My pack had betrayed me. And the King himself refused to free me. Fine. If the law would not save me, I would save myself. In my past life, I had been a healer no one believed until it was too late. This time, I remembered everything. In seven days, at the Royal Hunt, the Alpha King would drink a silver poison designed to kill even a Lycan. No royal healer would be able to save him. But I would. I packed my surgical kit, disappeared into the city slums, and prepared the only cure in the kingdom. When the King lay dying, he would finally listen. And the price of his life would be simple. My freedom.