Tu Tu

I spent six agonizing months trekking through the freezing wilderness to find my missing fated mate, Kael. On the perilous journey to find him, I was struck by a silver bullet. The toxic metal didn't kill me, but it burned through my veins, destroying my inner wolf and the unborn pup in my womb, leaving me permanently barren. Yet, when I finally found him, covered in my own blood, he was shielding a pregnant Rogue named Maya behind his back. He claimed she was his savior, and now, his lover. I was devastated. I threw a hysterical fit and made a huge scene. Finally, under the immense pressure of our allied Packs, I forced him to leave that girl behind in the wilderness and return home with me. After that, we held our wedding as planned. During our ten years of marriage, Kael remained as gentle and considerate as ever, acting as if that episode in the wilderness had never happened. I thought we had moved past the shadow of betrayal, believing he was still the mate who loved me more than life itself. Until one day, during a Pack war, he took a fatal bullet for me. As I held his bleeding body and weeping, he weakly grasped my hand and pleaded: "Chloe... I have done right by you in this life, but I owe Maya a life. If there is a next life... please, do not look for me." "I just want to live as a normal werewolf couple with her." In that moment, I felt as if I had been plunged into an icy abyss. I finally understood that his decade of "deep love" was nothing but a forced obligation. The man who truly loved me had already died in that wilderness. The sheer disgust and heartbreak tore me to pieces. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the time when he had been missing for six months. Feeling the dead silence of my inner wolf poisoned by silver, and touching my empty stomach where my pup used to be, I wearily closed my eyes, completely tearing that agonizing love from my soul. This time, Kael, I will grant your wish.

I was pregnant with my first child, living what I thought was a peaceful life as the wife of a wealthy CEO. Then my husband's ex-fiancée, Olivia, brought her daughter to visit our estate. She moved through my home like she still owned it—pouring his tea from memory, laughing over old stories I'd never been part of. I watched from the edges of my own living room while they rebuilt their past, brick by brick, shutting me outside. Then her daughter wandered down to the lake. By the time I made it to the water's edge—pregnant, slow, the last to arrive—Ethan was already kneeling on the dock, lifting a small, limp body from the dark water. Olivia's scream split the afternoon. And then she turned on me. "You pushed her. You were jealous. You killed my daughter." My husband, the man who had held me hours earlier and promised our son would be a star, looked me in the eye— And said nothing. His silence was the verdict. The police believed her. His mother believed her. The staff looked at me like I was already in handcuffs. I had no alibi they wanted to hear, no voice they wanted to listen to. Just a swollen belly and a name that no longer felt like mine. Then my newborn son, Noah, caught a fever. Ethan let Olivia give him a "natural herbal remedy"—some old family recipe she swore by. I begged him to take Noah to the hospital. He locked me out of the nursery instead. Noah died of respiratory failure hours later. The doctor said if we'd arrived two hours sooner, he would have lived. Instead of grieving with me, Ethan blamed me for both deaths. He claimed Olivia was now barren from the trauma I caused. He locked me in a boarded-up room in the abandoned west wing and told me I would carry his next heir as my "atonement." "You owe us a child." I couldn't understand how my husband could be so blind—how a man who once whispered promises into my hair could look at me like livestock—until I started noticing the gaps in his life. The phone call he silenced when he thought I wasn't looking. The business partners whose names never appeared on any letterhead. The way his mother's charitable foundation seemed to have unlimited funds and zero public donors. This family wasn't just rich. They were buried in something. And Olivia wasn't just a jealous ex. She was inside their machine, a debt I didn't understand yet. But I understood enough to stop crying. Using smuggled napkins and a piece of charcoal, I began sketching under the alias "Phoenix." If Ethan wanted an heir, I would give him one—while building a fashion empire from my cell, buying back my freedom one design at a time, and burning his entire blood-soaked legacy to the ground. He thought he'd locked up a broken wife. He had no idea he'd just created his own destroyer.

June was an ordinary architect struggling to pay rent, completely estranged from her high-society mother. But one night, she was kidnapped and beaten in an abandoned warehouse by Gage Becker, the city's most ruthless billionaire, who demanded payback for her mother's sins. Gage pointed a high-definition camera at June's battered face and video-called her mother, threatening to release the footage and ruin her upcoming billion-dollar wedding. "I will never throw away a billion-dollar marriage for a useless daughter." Her mother's cold voice echoed through the warehouse before the line went dead. From that moment, Gage systematically destroyed June's life. She was publicly humiliated and forced to hack off her own hair with a cigar cutter. She was blacklisted from every firm in the city, evicted by her landlord, and violently mugged in a freezing New York blizzard. Curled up in an icy tunnel waiting to die, June felt a suffocating despair. She hadn't spoken to her mother in months. Why did she have to endure this hell for a woman who didn't even care if she lived or died? Why was a monster like Gage so obsessed with driving her to the grave? When Gage's armored Maybach pulled up, he stepped into the snow to mock her, waiting for her to finally surrender and beg for his mercy. But the absolute humiliation snapped the last thread of June's sanity. Instead of crying, she lunged forward with feral energy and sank her teeth directly into the devil's flesh.

My life was a constant calculation of cents, a future sacrificed for Nathan's endless, failing business debts. I stood in the freezing discount supermarket, weighing two packages of ground turkey, my medical school dreams sixty days past due. Then, a diamond necklace, shaped exactly like the starburst I designed, caught the light around a woman's neck, just before she purred, "Nathan, you are such a bad man." The ground turkey slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the dirty floor with a wet thud. Only last night, Nathan sat at our wobbly kitchen table, eating instant ramen, complaining about server costs. Now, his "strict landlord" Mr. Miller was chauffeuring this wealthy woman, Sloan, in a Rolls Royce. My entire existence for the past five years, a meticulously built lie, crashed down around me. I zoomed in on Sloan’s social media, my eyes burning as I saw the tiny "N" engraved on the starburst pendant. My body went numb, the crushing sadness replaced by a terrifying, absolute void. This wasn't some bankrupt loser; this was a monster who had swallowed me whole. I texted my old college roommate, Maya, with a single, chilling command: "Tear his life down to the studs. I want to see his true face."

Five years ago, I was sentenced to prison for a car accident that left Blaire Lowe fighting for her life in the ICU. The day I was finally released, I thought the nightmare was over, but it had only just begun. Carson Long, the man who once loved me, was waiting. He didn't see a victim of a tragic accident; he saw a monster who deserved to rot. He made sure I knew that freedom was a lie. He turned my life into a living hell, dragging me through the halls of the hospital to witness the ruin I had caused, forcing me to watch as those who once knew me spat on my name and treated me like filth. When he demanded I pay for my sins by destroying my own face, I didn't hesitate. I carved a jagged scar into my cheek just to satisfy his cold, relentless hatred, hoping it would finally be enough to earn his mercy. But he wasn't satisfied. He dragged me to his estate, stripped me of my dignity, and turned me into the house's lowest servant, forcing me to scrub cobblestones until my knees bled and my body gave out. Why did he hate me so much that he wanted me to suffer every second of my existence? Why was he so determined to see my soul crushed into dust, even when I had nothing left to give? I looked at the trash I was forced to eat, and in that moment, I realized that as long as Carson held the leash, I would never be free. I picked up a piece of moldy bread, my eyes hollow, and decided that if living meant becoming his dog, I would find a way to end the game on my own terms.

The Pierre Hotel smelled of old money and stale ambition, but all I could taste was the copper of my own rage. I stood in the back of the ballroom, a "mute" shadow in a silk dress, watching my sister Brande play the grieving saint on stage. She wiped away a fake tear, telling the crowd I was too "unstable" to attend my own engagement party. In reality, I was watching her share a secret, intimate squeeze with my fiancé, Chase Sterling, right under the blinding spotlight. When I finally hit "execute" and projected the video of them together in a hotel suite for the entire elite crowd to see, the room went cold. But the nightmare was just beginning. Instead of apologizing, my father crushed his scotch glass and told me to fix the mess. He demanded I issue a public statement claiming I had a mental breakdown and "hallucinated" the whole thing. "If you don't corroborate the Deepfake story, I'll have you committed to a facility with barred windows," he hissed. Brande just smirked from the corner, mocking me for being a "mute waste of space" who didn't even realize my own trust fund had paid for the diamonds around her neck. I realized then that in this family, silence wasn't a disability—it was a target. They thought because I didn't speak, I didn't have a voice. They thought they could use my silence to bury the truth and save their precious stock prices. They were wrong. I didn't just leak a video; I had the keys to every secret they ever tried to hide. I walked out of that hotel and straight into the black sedan of Julian Curtis, my father’s most ruthless rival and the only man who knew what really happened the night of the blizzard in Aspen. I handed him the encrypted files that would trigger a hostile takeover of my family’s empire. As the city blurred past, I looked at the man who held my future in his hands and typed one final message on my phone. "I'm not here to be saved. I'm here to be the knife."

For five years, I was Grace Miller, the long-lost heiress to an agricultural empire, returned to my doting parents and a perfect husband, Caleb. They were my everything, the family I’d craved my whole life. But it was all a lie. A wrong turn led me to a secret farm where I found my husband playing with a little boy and Paige—the adopted daughter they told me had died in a car crash. My parents were in on it, funding their secret life and their “true” grandchild. They hadn’t just hidden a secret family; they were plotting my disposal. A voice memo on Caleb’s computer revealed their plan: to have me drugged with anxiety medication and declared mentally unstable if I caused trouble for the company. The love I thought was my salvation was actually my cage. The naive girl who believed in their affection died that day, replaced by a cold, calculated rage. At a family dinner a few nights later, my mother slid a glass of wine toward me. "You look so pale, dear," she said. "Drink this. It will help you relax." I knew it was the first step of their plan. The wine was drugged. I smiled, held their gazes, and drank the entire glass in one long swallow. The game was over. My game was just beginning.

The wedding planner' s voice on the phone was professional, confirming the groom had been changed to Noah Reed. My fiancée, Chloe, thought it was a surprise party. A surprise it was. I had found a marriage certificate in her drawer: Chloe Davis and Noah Reed, married for three months. Tucked behind it was an ultrasound report: twins. Not mine. For years, Chloe was my everything, my light. She saved me from darkness, taught me to trust, to love. But now, she and her family, whom I trusted implicitly, had orchestrated a grand deception, making a mockery of my love and devotion. I was the fool in a play where everyone else knew the script. They even knew about the babies, pretending they were mine. I felt nothing. A vast, empty space had opened up inside me where my heart used to be. The pain was so deep it had turned into a strange, detached calm. They couldn't hurt me anymore. I was already dead inside. I walked away from the past, leaving everything behind, never looking back. But not before orchestrating a wedding day reveal that would expose their betrayal and shatter Chloe's carefully constructed world.

The fire alarm shrieked, thick smoke burning my eyes. My heart hammered as I stumbled through the haze, calling for Liam. I finally saw him, but he wasn' t alone. He was carrying Chloe Jenkins, his childhood friend, rushing out the door without a single glance back at me, leaving me in our burning apartment. A neighbor pulled me out, and on the street, I watched Liam fuss over Chloe, who had a sprained ankle. When he finally noticed me, he walked over, a mask of concern on his face. "Ava, are you okay? I was so worried." His best friend, Ben, jogged over, clapping Liam on the shoulder. "Good thing you got Chloe out. You' re strong, Ava. Chloe needed him." They talked about me as if I wasn't there, dismissing my fear, my life. "I'm not okay," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. Liam' s face tensed. "What do you mean? You're safe. I made sure Chloe was safe because she was injured. It was a logical decision." "A logical decision?" I repeated, disbelief washing over me. "I was in there, Liam. In our home. You ran right past me." "Ava, don't be dramatic," Ben cut in. "He did the responsible thing." I discovered this wasn't an isolated incident. My own cherished items, once dismissed as "overpriced" by Liam, found their way into Chloe' s hands-a bittersweet realization that I was always his second choice, a convenient placeholder. All those years, I had convinced myself his emotional distance was just his personality. I was wrong. My heart shattered as I pieced together the truth. I was never his first choice; I was just the girl he settled for after Chloe rejected him. I was a consolation prize. "We are over, Liam," I declared, my voice raw with years of suppressed pain, throwing a glass of water in his face. "It was never about the fire. The fire was just the moment I finally opened my eyes. It's about the years of lies. It's about you letting me believe I was loved when I was just... convenient." I walked away, leaving my old life in a puddle on the floor, determined to build a new one, alone.

My alarm should have been my wake-up call, but it was Matthew' s frantic Discord messages, desperate for me to play a game of Valorant. He promised good money for a few hours of coaching – a lifeline I desperately needed with my tuition due and my mom' s medical bills piling up. I logged in, ready to carry strangers, but one player stood out: "Nyx," a mysterious, rich gamer who offered me a retainer, making me her exclusive coach. My life flipped overnight as my channel, "Stardust_vlr," exploded online thanks to anonymous, lavish donations from "0x." Then, my mom set me up on a blind coffee date with a "friend" from UCLA. It was Stella, the helpful girl who' d given me directions on my first day. We hit it off, becoming real-life friends, completely unaware of our deep connection in the virtual world. The biggest Twitch charity tournament arrived, and I finally enabled my face-cam, revealing Ethan Scott, the broke freshman. Across campus, Stella watched, realizing the face belonged to the quiet guy she knew, and that Stardust was Ethan. Just as the tournament countdown began, I heard Nyx' s voice in my headset, and the pieces clicked into place. Nyx was Stella. The shock was mutual, paralyzing us both as the biggest game of our lives was about to begin. How could my coach, my anonymous benefactor, and the girl my parents set me up with all be the same person?

My world was perfect. My wife, Chloe Davis, the starlet I' d built from the ground up, was adored by millions, and our power-couple image was the envy of Hollywood. Then, a quiet ping on my phone shattered everything: a tabloid photo of Chloe, smiling intimately with an unknown man, a child between them holding both their hands. "Chloe Davis' s Secret Family?" the headline screamed. My mother-in-law' s subsequent call twisted the knife, confirming the child was Chloe' s and coldly stating, "You know you can' t have children. We thought it was for the best." The revelation of her long-held secret child, combined with my supposed infertility-a shared tragedy I thought-felt like a grotesque betrayal. When Chloe calmly proposed we publicly claim the child as adopted to "benefit our brand," I realized the woman I loved was a stranger, viewing our entire marriage as a cold business merger. The love I had for her crumbled to dust. "No," I declared, the word sharp and final. "We' re getting a divorce." She scoffed, dismissing my decision as an inconvenience, not a heartbreak, and suggested I was being "unreasonable." Suddenly, I was the villain in a carefully constructed narrative, the failed husband who couldn' t give his wife what she wanted. My supposed perfect life, built on love and trust, was a lie. Now, the real story begins.

The last thing I remembered was the stench of stale beer and damp asphalt, then the crunch of my own bones. My best friend Becca, my sorority little sister, stood by, pointing, her face a mask of cold satisfaction. She had used my ID, my photos, my name for her own sinister schemes, and it led to my brutal death in that alley by loan sharks. Killed simply because I was too trusting, too kind, too naive to see her for what she truly was. But then, I woke up. The scent of lavender laundry detergent filled the air, my body was whole, no pain, no blood. And then I heard it – the soft click of a phone camera. Becca, standing in my doorway, phone aimed at me, just like the day it all began. This time, there would be no pity, no forgiveness. This time, I was ready.

For seven years, my husband Jake, a firefighter captain, made our home a tomb. He blamed me for his high school sweetheart Chloe's death in a wildfire, a fire where he "saved" me only because I was pregnant with his son. His constant accusations and cold silence were a living hell. Then, he announced he was using the "Second Chance Program"-an experimental time travel initiative-to go back to that fire. "I have to save her," he said, and with those words, he was erasing our entire life. His final jab, "Why would I have saved you if I didn't worry Chloe would be judged?" echoed the universal blame I already carried. In the rewritten timeline, the nightmare only deepened. He chose Chloe, ran me over with his truck, causing a miscarriage, and then left me bleeding in the inferno. He prioritized Chloe's dog's 'trauma' over my injuries, dismissed my pain as 'faking it,' and starved me, literally taking bread from my tray to feed Chloe's endless demands. How could the man who swore to protect me become this cruel stranger, constantly choosing a manipulating ghost over his wife and unborn child? And then he asked, "How do I even know it's mine?"-a gut-wrenching accusation for a baby already gone. That was the breaking point. I left, clutching the divorce papers he unknowingly signed, determined to use the very same time travel program. Not to fix him, not to save us, but to save myself from the blame, and find a life of my own. My second chance was finally for me.

For five years, I was Liam Walker, a hired husband and father in a grand mansion, my very existence hanging on Victoria Sterling' s whims and my sick mother' s need for life-saving treatment. My days were a relentless cycle of enduring Chloe, Victoria's ten-year-old daughter, who saw me as an intruder and a perpetual punching bag for her grief, often turning physical. Then came the car crash, and as the world exploded around us, I watched Victoria tend to her late husband's handsome lookalike, Julian, leaving me, her 'husband,' slumped and bleeding in the wreckage. At the hospital, I heard Victoria coldly prioritize Julian' s life, and Chloe whisper, 'Let him die, Mommy. Then Julian can be my new daddy for real.' My agony deepened when Victoria, in a chilling display of power, ordered my other hand broken, the one I played guitar with, all while Julian reveled in her affections and poisoned Chloe' s mind with lies about me. What was I really to them? A ghost, a prop, a punching bag, meticulously broken down and discarded, with no worth beyond my fleeting utility. But as my body healed, a quiet fury hardened my resolve. My contract was almost up, and this time, no amount of money or manipulation would stop me. I would escape, take my mother, and build a life free from their toxic grasp, a life so genuinely happy, their future remorse would be utterly meaningless.

I was Ava Sharma, a scholarship student focused on acing my pre-med degree and securing a coveted Johns Hopkins fellowship. My world, filled with textbooks and ambitious dreams, also included Liam Walker, the charming campus king. He pursued me relentlessly, filling my life with sweet gestures that made me finally let my guard down. But one afternoon, after a moment of intimacy in his dorm room, Liam casually hinted at an accidental pregnancy, advising me to slow down my career. Then, I overheard him and his cronies laughing: the entire relationship was a meticulously crafted lie, a scheme to distract me and sabotage my fellowship for his ex, Jessica Hayes. The betrayal felt like a gut punch, turning every cherished memory into a violation. He even orchestrated highly realistic AI deepfakes of me, flooding the campus gossip forums, threatening my hard-earned reputation. My future, my parents' immigrant dream, was crumbling because of cruel manipulation. How could anyone be so monstrously calculating, fabricating such a horrifying lie to destroy me? But as Liam planned one final public humiliation, a crucial anonymous audio message revealed the chilling depths of his and Jessica' s deceit. That night, I made a choice: I deleted the message, walked away from the public spectacle, hailed a cab, and headed to the airport for a new life.

It started with a casual scroll through a Facebook parenting group. My husband, Jack, came home that evening, his face alight with an excitement I hadn't seen in years. He spoke of a monumental career opportunity with BMW in Germany, a chance to elevate our family's future. Then came the chilling caveat: for obscure corporate reasons, he explained, participants needed to be officially single, so we’d need a “symbolic divorce.” My heart plunged, because only days before, I’d read an anonymous post in that very same group detailing how a man planned to trick his wife into a fake divorce to run off with his new girlfriend; the parallels were undeniable. He swore it was just paperwork and a formality, that nothing would change between us. His palpable relief when I, feigning compliance, agreed to this monstrous charade was truly sickening. Less than a week later, with the divorce decree in hand, he flew overseas with his much younger, blonder colleague, vanishing without a trace. I soon discovered our joint bank account, earmarked for our dream house, had been emptied of nearly $50,000. “Trust him?” the word felt like ash in my mouth. My mind reeled with the audacity of his betrayal, and how he could orchestrate such a cruel plot to leave his family destitute for a fleeting fantasy. The urge to scream, to ruin him, was overwhelming, but a colder, more calculated anger began to take hold. A “symbolic” divorce? There’s no such thing; a divorce is a divorce. But Jack, blinded by his perceived freedom, had made a fatal miscalculation. He had completely underestimated the wife he thought he’d outsmarted. He didn't know about my meticulously squirreled-away hundred thousand dollars, my ultimate, secret safety net. As his car disappeared down the street, a singular, potent thought solidified in my mind: Go enjoy your "freedom," Jack, because getting back in won’t be so easy, and you’ve just signed away more than you know.

Seeing her boyfriend flirting with another woman, Gabrielle failed to hold back her anger and made a scene. In the dispute, she was shoved backward and about to fall down. However, she fell into a warm embrace wrapping around her back and a familiar scent of perfume. The man who held her was no other than Alston, the CEO of the company where she took an interview. She thought it was their first encounter, but it was their reunion for him. He had been missing her for years. Now that he got another chance to have her, he would never let her go this time.

"No wolf. No family. Harmless. Useful. The second I am done with her, the Luna title is yours." Eira Crawford heard those words through her husband's office door. For four years, she had been Sebastian Vale's hidden mate. She managed his household, entertained his relatives, cleaned up his messes, and lived on the three thousand dollars he gave her each month like charity. Even buying a new coat required an explanation. But for his first love, he casually prepared three hundred thousand dollars in research funding. To Sebastian, Eira was nothing more than a wolfless Omega from an orphanage. A quiet, obedient wife with no pack, no power, and no value beyond being useful. He had never introduced her publicly as his Luna. His family treated her like a servant. His sweetheart mocked her as a woman who could only survive by clinging to an Alpha. So Eira stopped crying. She recorded the affair, filed for mate dissolution, and placed the divorce papers in front of Sebastian. Even then, he thought she was throwing a tantrum. He signed without hesitation, certain she would come crawling back once she realized no one else would want a discarded, wolfless Omega. He was wrong. The woman he left at home washing dishes was a Stanford-trained electrical engineer. The "useless" wife he ignored was the hidden chief engineer behind a national self-developed chip project. Her movements were classified. Her disappearance could alert the federal authorities. Her name, once revealed, was enough to shake the entire scientific community. And Sebastian knew nothing. After walking out of his house with nothing but her freedom, Eira crossed paths with Killian Sterling, the coldest and most powerful Alpha in the north. He did not know her name yet, but his wolf recognized something in her that everyone else had missed. Meanwhile, Sebastian finally realized that Eira was not bluffing. He searched the entire city like a madman. For the first time in four years, he publicly called her his wife. He demanded she return. He begged for another chance. But by then, Eira was no longer waiting in his house. She was seated at the Sterling Pack's dinner table, dressed with quiet confidence, while the most feared Alpha in North America stood beside her. In front of everyone, Killian Sterling placed his hand at her back and said coldly, "Eira is not anyone's discarded Omega." "She is my Luna."

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.

"This is Virella, my wife." Three years. And that was all Alpha Kaelen gave me. No welcome. No touch. No recognition. Just another woman at his side, carrying his child. While I ruled in his absence, I was nothing more than a placeholder. A Luna he never chose. So I gave up. And I left. One rejection was all it took to break the bond. When I returned, I wasn't the Luna he abandoned. I was untouchable, respected, and feared. And no longer his to claim. Now he watches me like a man drowning... Because the woman he discarded came back as something far beyond his reach. And this time, I didn't come alone. The Alpha of Ebonmoon stands beside me, his presence crushing, and his hand firm on my waist... "Careful, Kaelen," his voice drops, dark with warning. "Rowena isn't yours anymore." His lips brush my temple, possessively. "She's mine. If you try to take her, I'll end you."

I was the wolfless disgrace of the pack, traded like cattle to a dying monster. When a royal decree stripped away my engagement, my own father gave my fiancé to my cruel sister, Charly. My punishment for being born without a wolf? A forced marriage to Demetri Contreras—the crippled, disgraced Alpha left to rot from silver poison. They threw me into a frozen, forgotten estate, waiting for my new husband to die so I could be buried as a silent widow. Charly laughed as she stole my life, my mate, and my future. My family discarded me, just like they murdered my mother years ago. They thought this exile would break me. They thought I was a helpless pawn. They didn't know that inside this fragile body lived the soul of the top interstellar miracle surgeon. Looking at the ruined, festering Alpha bleeding on my wedding bed, I didn't see a corpse. I saw the deadliest weapon in the realm. The fallen Alpha needs a miracle to survive. Lucky for him, I am the miracle. I will drag this monster back from the gates of hell—and together, we will burn my enemies to ash.

On the day I swallowed the lethal poison, my blind Alpha husband was accompanying his adopted sister to her prenatal checkup. For three years, I ruined my face and crippled my wolf to act as his secret blood bag, absorbing his deadly silver toxicity. Yet, upon hearing of her pregnancy, he brutally forced himself on me to vent his manic rut. And the moment she whined for him, he abandoned me without hesitation, leaving me bleeding and shattered on the cold floor. "Take the money and keep out of her sight." He sneered, throwing a black card at my battered face to buy my dignity. He didn't know I was dying. I didn't cry or argue. I calmly signed the mate rejection papers and swallowed a forbidden neurotoxin that induces absolute physiological death. A month later, his sight was finally restored. But instead of the devoted Luna he loved to torture, he found only a withered, stiff corpse on the bed. The ever-arrogant, ruthless Alpha completely shattered. In the dead silence, he fell to his knees and crushed my lifeless body into his arms. He pressed his quivering lips to mine, desperately sinking his fangs into my freezing scent gland as he sobbed in absolute agony: "Stop sleeping, Gianna, I can finally see you... I'll pay you back with my life, just don't throw me away."

During the party for her second wedding anniversary, Kylie stood quietly to one side and watched her Alpha kiss his childhood sweetheart. Her life felt like a trap. She had relinquished her Alpha blood for him, and that was what she got. Yet fate wasn't finished with her. An encounter with Alpha Logan gave her a way out she hadn't expected. As the Alpha of a powerful pack, he could help her get even with her cheating mate. There was just one catch. Kylie would have to spend a year as his Luna. Accepting his offer would be a dangerous gamble, but Kylie struggled to resist her attraction to the Alpha she couldn't quite figure out. Could she bring herself to agree to his terms? What would she do if her feelings for him grew too strong to push aside?

I was the wolfless twin. The rejected bride. The daughter marked for death. They didn't realize they weren't killing a girl-they were breaking a seal. ​On my wedding day, my fated mate didn't say "I do." He said, "I reject you." ​Luke Blackwood didn't want a Luna without a wolf, so he chose my twin sister instead. Humiliated and hunted by my own father, I was forced to flee into the territory of the one man my pack feared most: Aiden Stormrider, the ruthless Alpha King and billionaire CEO of Crescent ​Aiden thinks I'm a pawn to be used against my father. He thinks I'm a weak Omega seeking refuge. ​He's wrong. ​Deep inside me, something ancient is waking up. It's not just one wolf-it's five. Five fractured personalities, each with their own deadly powers, born from a prophecy that says I will end the age of Alphas. ​As the Dragon Wolf rises, I will reclaim my throne. My sister wants my legacy? She can have the ashes. My mate wants my forgiveness? He can beg while I burn his world down. ​Aiden Stormrider wants my heart... but he'll have to survive the five monsters living inside it first. ​They wanted a sacrifice. They got a Queen.

I was born a wolfless cripple in the Richmond Pack, but by royal decree, I was engaged to the kingdom's Champion Knight, Emory. During the winter banquet, my half-sister Dessie suddenly tilted backward into the royal ice pond, screaming that I pushed her. In my previous life, I reached out in panic to save her, only to be dragged down and framed for attempted murder. When Emory dove into the freezing water, he swam right past my sinking body to rescue her instead. Once ashore, my own father and my betrothed ignored my desperate pleas. They branded me a vicious, jealous traitor. Emory publicly broke our engagement to marry Dessie, while my father threw me to the executioner to wash away the family's shame with my blood. Until my head was on the chopping block, I didn't understand. Why did my own family want me dead just because I had no inner wolf? Why did the knight who swore to protect me conspire with my illegitimate sister to destroy my life? Opening my eyes again, I was back on the snow-dusted terrace, right as Dessie was setting up the exact same trap. "A wolfless cripple like you should crawl back to the gutter," she whispered, falling backward. This time, I didn't flinch or beg for help. Instead, my fingers shot out like iron clamps, grabbing her wrist, and I dragged her into the freezing depths with me.

Emilia Taylor was the most unwanted daughter of the Frostridge Pack. She had no wolf, no status, and no one who truly loved her. After failing to awaken at the age of twenty-two, she was betrayed by her lover, abandoned by her family, and finally sent by her father to the Silver Moon Pack-to become Sebastian Simons' seventh bride. Sebastian was the Alpha everyone feared. Rumor had it that none of his first six wives had met a good end, and every woman who married him eventually became another name on the list of the dead. Everyone was waiting for Emilia to die. But they did not know that her failed awakening had not left her with nothing. Instead, she had gained the ability to read minds. She could hear the malice and lies hidden behind every smile. Everyone's thoughts were open to her. Except Sebastian's. She could not hear his mind, nor could she see through his secrets. When a wolfless girl abandoned by everyone meets a cold-blooded Alpha haunted by the mystery of six dead wives, will she become his next victim-or the only one who can break the curse?

As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me. Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King. My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss. His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.