A forced marriage to a cruel Alpha leads an Omega woman to a night of desperate escape and a life-altering encounter with a wounded Alpha, which ends up birthing a forbidden love affair between a mated omega and an alpha prince.
A forced marriage to a cruel Alpha leads an Omega woman to a night of desperate escape and a life-altering encounter with a wounded Alpha, which ends up birthing a forbidden love affair between a mated omega and an alpha prince.
The silk of my dress felt like a cage against my skin, the deep emerald fabric a stark contrast to the muted grays in my soul. I stood before the full-length mirror, my reflection a stranger staring back with haunted eyes. The gentle curve of my four-month-pregnant belly was a betrayal, a mocking reminder of the hope I'd dared to harbor, hope now buried beneath layers of disappointment and pain.
"Elara, are you even listening?" His voice, sharp and cold as chipped ice, sliced through the silence of the bedroom. I turned, forcing a neutral expression onto my face as I faced him. Damon, my husband- my Alpha- stood by the door, his tall frame radiating an effortless power that always made him the center of any room. His midnight-black hair was perfectly styled, his jaw set with an impatience that was becoming all too familiar. His eyes, a striking shade of , swept over me with thinly disguised disdain.
"Of course," I replied, my voice, a practiced calm. "I was just adjusting the dress."
He snorted, the sound abrasive as nails on a chalkboard. "Don't waste time on such trivial things, Elara. There are more important matters at hand. Tonight is crucial. My family is gathering for the first time since the spring solstice. I need you to remember your place."
My heart squeezed, the same tired ache that had taken up residence since the week we'd been forced to call each other husband and wife. I'd been a member of his pack for so long that I could remember running around the halls when I was a little girl, but I was never one of them. They were wolves, and I was just... me. An omega.
He continued, outlining the rules and expectations as if reciting a script. "You will greet my family with a smile, but not a wide one. Don't speak until spoken to. Don't draw attention to yourself. Try not to look too weak and pathetic. And for the love of the Moon Goddess, don't touch me unnecessarily. Understood?"
"Understood, Alpha," I murmured, my gaze fixed on the embroidered pattern of the dress. It was a beautiful thing but I couldn't quite feel the beauty. I knew the drill by heart. I was supposed to be seen and not heard, an ornamental piece in his life, fulfilling a promise made by his grandmother, a woman who had loved me as her own. A woman he'd never forgive me for being loved by.
He straightened his jacket, the movement sharp and precise. "Good. Now come. We can't be late. And Elara..." He paused at the doorway, his eyes narrowing. "Try not to embarrass me tonight, or I'll make sure you regret it."
The threat was subtle, laced with the chilling promise of future pain. I swallowed hard, pushing back the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf me. Was this what love was supposed to feel like? This constant gnawing dread? This overwhelming loneliness?
I followed him out into the hallway, my footsteps light as a falling feather while he walked ahead of me.
When I reached the downstairs hall, I heard a low murmur coming from the direction of the restroom. Damon had veered off to the left, and I had assumed he'd gone to wait for me by the front door. I had started walking toward it, but I just couldn't help the curiosity that made my feet turn to the restroom door.
My heart pounded, a frantic drum against my ribs as I edged closer. His voice, a husky drawl that was usually aimed at me with such cold cruelty, was now soft and seductive.
"...you're far more interesting than that dull omega of mine." He was saying, his voice thick with something that wasn't in the tone he uses when speaking with me. "She's only good for producing an heir – if she even manages to carry that one to term. Honestly, they're all so weak. She's like a shadow. Pathetic."
A woman's laugh, high and flirtatious, echoed before his words took over again. They were interrupted by the sounds of kissing and heavy breathing. It only confirmed what I already knew. He despised me. My husband, my alpha, despised the very essence of who I was.
I stumbled back, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle a sob. He despised me. He spoke of me as if I were an inconvenience, a tool to be used and discarded. Each word was a blow, each syllable a stab to my already wounded heart. I pressed a hand to my belly, fear coiling in my stomach. He had a pack who loved him and I had no one. It was just me and this child now, and what would we do?
The sounds from inside the restroom became more explicit, the soft moans and the rustling of clothing painting a vivid picture that seared itself onto my brain. Tears stung my eyes, blurring the already distorted world around me. I wanted to run, to hide, to disappear into nothingness, but my feet seemed rooted to the spot.
As quickly as it had started, the sounds ceased. The door creaked open. I quickly scrambled behind a large pillar, heart racing, and peered out cautiously. Damon stepped out of the restroom, his expression smug. His hair was slightly dishevelled and his lips looked swollen. He adjusted his shirt and turned, catching a glimpse of movement before I could hide myself properly. His silver eyes narrowed, zeroing on my place behind the pillar.
"Elara?" he called out, his voice laced with a dangerous sort of calm. What was I expecting? I carry his mark and he can sense my presence through my scent which has become more intense since I got pregnant.
Panic clenched my chest and I couldn't breathe. I had been caught. And in that moment, standing behind the cold, unyielding pillar, I knew tonight isn't going to be very pleasant.
Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.
I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.
I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.
Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.
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