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Tag: Betrayal

  • The Lycan King Curse: Similar Book to The Lycan King’s Army

    The Lycan King Curse by Bobbie_
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    “Our marriage was only a deal between me and my father. I don’t love you. The woman I love is pregnant and in critical condition… This marriage is cancelled!”
    Those words shattered Quinn on what should’ve been the happiest day of her life. Betrayed by her fiancé and best friend in one brutal moment, she spirals into heartbreak-and lands in the arms of a dangerous stranger after a reckless, wild night.
    But the man she gave herself to wasn’t just any stranger.
    He was the cursed Lycan king-a feared beast of legends who disappeared from the world long ago. And now, he’s back… for her.
    Framed for murder by the same people who betrayed her, Quinn finds herself hunted-until the king rises from the shadows to claim what’s his. Her.
    And she’s not alone.
    She’s carrying his pup.
    Cold. Possessive. Lethal. He will burn kingdoms to protect her, shed blood for her vengeance, and tear apart anyone who made her cry. Because she isn’t just his mate…
    She’s his cure.
    And no one touches what belongs to the cursed king.

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    The Lycan King Curse Chapter 1 The Rejection

    I should’ve known.
    The moment Dylan stepped onto that stage with his tie undone and his lips pressed into a flat, miserable line, I should’ve known something was wrong. Something was always wrong with Dylan, I just didn’t want to see it.
    The guests murmured. My heart thumped in my ears. I took a shaky breath and stepped forward in my ivory dress, the veil clutched in one hand. My smile wavered.
    He didn’t even look at me.
    “Dylan?” I whispered.
    He turned to face the crowd instead, jaw tight. “I-I can’t go through with this.”
    Silence. Pure, suffocating silence. Then-
    “What?” I choked, the word barely leaving my throat.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, like it meant anything. “But I’m not marrying Quinn.”
    Gasps broke out across the pack house hall.
    My chest caved inward.
    “My mate is in the hospital,” he said louder now, for everyone to hear. “She’s carrying my child. And she’s in critical condition.”
    The room spun. My body turned to ice.
    Mate?
    Pregnant?
    My feet moved on their own. “Dylan, what are you talking about?” My voice cracked, shaking.
    “I can’t let her die while I stand here pretending to love someone I don’t.” His eyes finally met mine, hard and cold. “I never loved you, Quinn.”
    Pain hit like a slap. I stepped back. My wolf whimpered in my mind.
    He kept going. “I needed to prove to my father that I was responsible. That I could commit. That’s why I proposed. That’s why I played along.”
    Played along?
    I laughed. It was sharp and hollow. “You used me.”
    “I had no choice,” he snapped. “You think my father would’ve let me near the Alpha title if I didn’t prove myself with the perfect, obedient she-wolf? You were convenient.”
    I clenched my fists. “Say that again.”
    But he turned his back to me.
    That was it. No explanation. No guilt.
    Just cold-blooded betrayal.
    I could hear someone crying in the crowd. I didn’t know if it was my aunt, my cousin-or me. My throat burned. I couldn’t breathe.
    My mother stood at the far end of the room, arms folded, face unreadable.
    Of course she wasn’t surprised.
    Of course she knew.
    She always knew everything before I did.
    I turned toward her, and for once, I saw what she really thought of me. No pity. Not concerned. Just disgust.
    “Don’t make a scene,” she mouthed slowly.
    Don’t make a scene?
    I stormed down the aisle, ripping off my veil and tossing it to the floor. My father avoided my gaze like getting has always done when things get sour. Coward.
    Outside, the wind howled. My hands trembled as I tugged off the heels. I didn’t care that I was barefoot on the gravel path. I didn’t care that I was still in my wedding dress.
    I needed answers.
    I needed a name.
    I needed to know who Dylan threw everything away for.
    So I ran.
    The hospital smelled like bleach and betrayal. I charged up to the nurse’s station, my voice steel. “I need to know who was just admitted for an emergency pregnancy. Critical condition. The father’s name is Dylan Reid.”
    The nurse blinked. “Ma’am, we can’t-“
    “I’m his fiancée. Or… I was,” I bit out. “Tell me where he is.”
    The nurse hesitated, then pointed. “Room 213. Maternity emergency wing.”
    I didn’t thank her. I didn’t slow down.
    I burst through the door like a hurricane.
    And there she was.
    Cassandra.
    My best friend.
    In the hospital bed, propped up by pillows, looking pale and beautiful, was the girl I’d grown up with. The girl who laughed with me in high school, shared secrets, painted my nails, and told me Dylan was “just her cousin” when they met two years ago.
    She looked shocked when she saw me. But not guilty.
    “Quinn…”
    I laughed bitterly. “You?”
    She blinked, pretending to be confused. “W-What are you-“
    I marched to the bed. “Cut the crap. You’re the one carrying Dylan’s baby?”
    Her hands went to her stomach. Protective. Possessive.
    Like she had any right.
    “He said you’d hate me,” she whispered.
    “Hate you?” I seethed. “You sat in my house. Ate with my family. Planned my engagement party. All the while, screwing the man I was supposed to marry?”
    “He was never yours Quinn, you were just a temporary replacement” she said, a tone of mockery evident in her voice.
    “Oh, that makes it okay?” I barked out a harsh laugh.
    The door opened behind me, and Dylan stepped in, panting, sweaty, looking like he’d just run a marathon.
    His eyes widened when he saw me.
    “You,” I said quietly. “Told me she was your cousin.”
    He didn’t respond.
    “She’s pregnant,” I continued, voice rising. “With your child. And you introduced her to me as your goddamn cousin.”
    “Quinn, I-“
    I slapped him.
    The sound echoed in the room.
    Cassandra gasped. Dylan reeled back, but I wasn’t done.
    “You humiliated me in front of the entire pack,” I hissed. “You lied. You used me. For what? To earn Daddy’s approval?”
    He looked ashamed, but not enough.
    “I should’ve known. You were always a coward.”
    “Don’t talk to him like that,” Cassandra said, frowning.
    I turned to her. “Shut up. You don’t get to defend him.”
    “Please leave,” Dylan said, voice low. “She’s not well.”
    “I don’t give a damn.” I stepped closer. “You could’ve told me the truth. You could’ve broken it off like a man. But instead you waited till our wedding day to throw me away like garbage.”
    “You were always garbage,” he said, his voice rising.
    “I gave you people to rely on when no one wants to play with a cursed and weak omega like you so be grateful for that” he said scorn
    “I was just a tool to get what you wanted.”
    He didn’t deny it.
    My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall.
    “You’re dead to me, both of you.”
    I turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Dylan? You better pray your father never finds out the truth. Because I’ll make sure he does.”
    “Too bad, his father died this morning and that’s why your engagement was broken” Cassandra said with a smirk playing on her lips
    My face went pale.
    I slammed the door on my way out.
    It is raining now. Of course it was.
    I stood on the sidewalk, wedding dress soaked, mascara running. People stared. I didn’t care.
    My phone rang. My mother.
    I declined the call.
    It rang again.
    I picked it up.
    “What?” I snapped.
    “You made a spectacle of yourself,” she said coldly. “We’ll never live this down.”
    “I don’t care,” I spat. “I’m done pretending.”
    “I warned you about Dylan. You didn’t listen.”
    “You didn’t warn me. You just hated me so much you wanted me to fail.”
    She was silent.
    I continued, voice shaking. “You never loved me. You just tolerated me because it made you look good in front of the pack.”
    “You’re being dramatic.”
    “No. I’m finally seeing things clearly.”
    I hung up and tossed the phone into a puddle.
    Let it drown like the trust I once had in everyone around me.
    I didn’t go home. I walked for hours, barefoot, cold, and furious. I ended up at the old training field, the one Dylan and I used to sneak into when we were younger. The gate creaked as I pushed it open.
    I let out a scream.
    One long, raw, animalistic scream that tore from my throat like a wound being ripped open.
    Then I shifted.

    The Lycan King Curse Chapter 2 The Stranger

    The wind stung my face as I tore through the woods, paws thudding against the wet earth. I didn’t care where I was going-I just needed to run, to escape the crushing weight in my chest.
    Branches snapped underfoot. Trees blurred past. My wolf didn’t stop. Not until the pain dulled to a low throb and even she was tired of being angry.
    By the time I shifted back, my skin was damp with rain and sweat. My hair clung to my face, and I was somewhere deep in the northern edge of Graybridge-far from the pack, far from home, if I could even call that place home anymore.
    I didn’t plan on going back. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
    In the distance, I spotted flickering neon lights-Blue Moon Tavern. Fitting.
    I walked barefoot toward it, mud caking my feet, still wearing the tattered remains of my shift clothes from under the wedding dress. A few people outside started, but I didn’t stop. I pushed the door open and was greeted with loud music, stale smoke, and the clink of glasses.
    The bartender blinked as I approached.
    “You alright there?” he asked, eyeing my torn dress and matted hair.
    “I need a drink,” I croaked. “Something strong.”
    He poured without another word. I downed the first shot, then the second, then three more. The burn didn’t bother me. I wanted it.
    I wanted to forget.
    “Rough night?” the bartender asked after a while.
    I slammed my sixth shot glass down. “You have no idea.”
    “Maybe a bed would be better than the bar.”
    “Maybe,” I muttered, swaying slightly. “You rent rooms?”
    “Upstairs. We’ve got a few for overnight travelers.”
    “I’ll take one.”
    He handed me a key. “Room twelve. Down the hall, second left, past the stairs.”
    “Got it.” I nodded… or tried to.
    I grabbed the key, slid off the stool like a newborn deer, and made my way toward the hallway. I forgot the number immediately.
    Was it ten? Or twenty? No-twelve.
    I squinted at the numbers on the doors, my vision dancing. I stopped at a door that looked vaguely right. 210? 201? 120? Who cares.
    The key fit.
    I turned it and stumbled in.
    Dim lights. A warm scent of cedar and something spicy.
    I yawned and dropped my purse, letting my dress fall from my shoulder.
    Then I heard the door to the bathroom open.
    “What the hell?” a deep voice rumbled.
    I froze, heart lurching.
    A man stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, hair wet, water dripping down his abs like a slow tease from the goddess herself.
    He stared at me, stunned. “Who are you?”
    I blinked. “This is my room.”
    “No. It’s not.”
    I looked down at the key still in my hand, confused. “Room twelve?”
    He raised a brow. “This is twenty-one.”
    Shit.
    “Oh,” I mumbled. “My bad.”
    He walked forward, still dripping, still towel-clad, and just-why did he look like that? The body of a warrior, but the face of a man who could ruin someone without saying a word.
    “I’ll leave,” I said quickly, trying to back up.
    But I stepped on the hem of my dress and slipped.
    “Whoa-!”
    He caught me before I hit the floor, one strong arm around my waist.
    And just like that, the room shifted.
    Our eyes locked.
    There it was. That damn electric snap. Like the universe had grabbed my spine and yanked.
    My hands were on his chest. His skin was hot. My head spun-but not from the alcohol anymore.
    “Don’t,” I whispered.
    “Don’t what?” he murmured, his voice low, steady.
    I should’ve pulled away.
    I should’ve walked out.
    But I didn’t.
    Instead, I leaned in and kissed him.
    Hard. Desperate.
    He froze for half a second, then gripped my waist and kissed me back-deeper, rougher, like he’d been waiting for something to break him open too.
    My dress dropped to the floor.
    His towel hit the ground.
    There was no name, no promise, no future. Just breath and skin and pain and need.
    He pressed me to the wall, lips grazing my jaw. “What’s your name?”
    I closed my eyes. “Does it matter?”
    He paused. Then, “No. Not tonight.”
    That was all it took.
    He lifted me with ease, laid me on the bed, kissed every broken part of me like it could be stitched together by mouth and tongue and fire.
    It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.
    It was raw.
    And somewhere between the gasps and the tangled sheets, I gave something I’d never given anyone else-my body, my heart, my firsts.
    My virginity.
    To a stranger.
    And I didn’t regret it.
    Not even a little.
    I woke up to sunlight slanting through the window and the weight of an arm draped across my hip.
    For a moment, I forgot where I was.
    Then I turned and saw him.
    God, he was even more beautiful in the light.
    His face was relaxed, lashes dark against his cheekbones, jaw rough with stubble. He looked peaceful. Untouchable.
    I slipped out of bed carefully, grabbing my dress from the floor and wincing at the soreness between my legs.
    Last night came back in pieces-drinks, heat, skin, his voice whispering something I didn’t understand in my ear as I collapsed on top of him.
    I didn’t even ask his name.
    And I still didn’t want it.
    Not yet.
    I needed the illusion-that just once, I’d done something reckless for myself. That just once, I wasn’t someone’s pawn.
    I scribbled a note on a hotel notepad:
    “Thanks for the rescue. No regrets. – Q.”
    I placed it on the bedside table and slipped out quietly.
    I didn’t even look back.
    Outside, the town was waking. I stood at the corner of the street, unsure where to go. No home to return to. No pack to belong to.
    But for the first time in years, I felt something close to free.
    Still hurt. Still pissed. Still burning.
    But free.
    My phone buzzed. I’d forgotten I even had it.
    Caller ID: Mom.

    The Lycan King Curse Chapter 3 The Truth Revealed

    I stared at the screen like it owed me a damn explanation.
    Caller ID: Mom.
    Of course.
    The second I picked up, her screech nearly shattered my eardrum.
    “Where the hell are you, Quinn? Do you think this is some kind of game? Get back here right now!”
    I held the phone away from my face and blinked into the sky. Still gray. Still miserable. I exhaled through my nose, trying not to punch a wall or dissolve into flames.
    “I’m coming anyway,” I muttered and hung up before she could spit another insult.
    I should’ve tossed the phone into traffic.
    I walked the rest of the way home. No one stopped me. No one cared. The stares I got? All pity. The same pity I hated when Dylan rejected me, the same pity I spat on when I ran away, barefoot and broken.
    But now? I didn’t feel broken anymore. Something inside me had snapped clean, like the last chain unhooked from my ribs. It still hurt, but I could breathe for once.
    When the Arledge estate came into view, I paused at the gate and stared up at it like it was a stranger’s home. Technically, it always felt like it.
    My hand gripped the cold handle of the front door, and just before I pushed it open, I froze.
    “…the cursed Lycan King’s envoy will be here shortly,” my father’s voice floated out the open living room window.
    I froze. My stomach turned.
    “She’s lucky,” Mother added. “After humiliating us, this is the least she can do.”
    “Sold,” I whispered to myself. “They’re selling me off like I’m… livestock.”
    My nails dug into the door.
    “Is this a goddamn joke?” I roared as I burst in, slamming the door behind me.
    Father turned, barely blinking. “Watch your mouth, girl.”
    I marched in. “Tell me what I just heard isn’t true.”
    “It is. You leave today. The King’s guard will arrive shortly,” he said like he was reading off a weather report.
    My chest caved in.
    “You’re selling me to the cursed Lycan King? The murderer? The one with a trail of blood behind him longer than his shadow?”
    “It’s an honor-“
    “It’s a death sentence!” I snapped. “And you didn’t even ask me? You didn’t think to-“
    A flash. A crack. My face whipped sideways as his palm smacked hard against my cheek.
    I gasped, tasting iron.
    “Be grateful,” he growled. “You’ve embarrassed this family enough.”
    I blinked at him, stunned for maybe half a second. Then I laughed. Laughed so hard I thought I’d choke.
    “You mean after your perfect deal with Dylan fell apart? That’s what this is about? Saving face?”
    “Don’t speak unless spoken to,” my mother cut in coldly.
    “You hate me so much you’re throwing me to a beast,” I hissed.
    “If you hadn’t failed at keeping a man-“
    I lunged forward, but one of the guards stepped between us. “Back off.”
    That’s when I noticed the three men by the hallway-pack guards I hadn’t seen in years. Muscle-bound, silver-armed, ready for war.
    “You’re seriously doing this,” I breathed. “You’re giving me away like a sack of rice?”
    My mother narrowed her eyes. “It’s done. Accept it.”
    “No.” I spun and bolted for the door.
    Before I could reach it, cold fingers yanked my wrist. Mother’s grip was steel.
    “You’re not leaving.”
    I jerked, twisted, tried to shake her off. But she pushed me toward the staircase, and the guards flanked me.
    “Don’t touch me!” I shrieked.
    “Put her in her room!” Father bellowed. “Now!”
    One of the guards hoisted me like I weighed nothing and shoved me up the stairs while I kicked and punched and screamed.
    “This is illegal! I’m not a damn toy! I’m not-“
    They pushed me inside my room and slammed the door shut behind me. A key turned. Then the bolt.
    Trapped.
    Like always.
    I roared, a deep growl tearing from my chest as I punched the wall. My hand ached. Didn’t matter. I grabbed the dresser and threw it against the door. Not that it’d stop anyone.
    My breaths were ragged. My pulse, wild. My wolf was clawing to the surface, as angry as I was.
    They were really going to send me off to the cursed king like some gift-wrapped offering. And no one was coming to save me.
    Fine.
    I’d save myself.
    The window. I ran over, threw it open. Wind howled through, cold and sharp. The branches of the tree beside my room were thinner than I remembered. But they were there.
    And I had nothing to lose.
    I climbed onto the window ledge, looked down at the drop.
    Then I jumped.
    The wind snatched my breath as I hit the first branch, bounced, scraped my arm, then landed hard in a pile of dead leaves.
    Groaning, I scrambled to my feet.
    “GO!” I hissed to myself, feet pounding the dirt as I sprinted away from the house.
    I didn’t make it far.
    Just two blocks down the private trail that led toward the old woods, a black SUV screeched to a halt in front of me.
    Four men in dark leather stepped out. Lycans. No doubt about it.
    One sniffed the air, checked the picture in his hand and grinned. “She’s the one.”
    I turned on my heel and ran.
    Another SUV behind me. They’d blocked both exits but I smirked crazily, “this is my hood bitch”.
    One of them shifted, mid‑air. Fur erupted, bones cracked, and a massive gray beast landed on all fours, snarling.
    I veered into the woods. My legs were on fire. My heart? A thunderstorm.
    Branches slapped my face. My foot snagged on a root. I tripped, fell, rolled, and scrambled up again.
    Behind me, I heard them yelling. One of them burst through the tree line and lunged.
    I ducked just in time. His claws missed my back by inches.
    I turned and screamed, “STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
    He snarled. “We don’t want to hurt you, but keep fighting and I can’t promise anything.”
    Another one lunged, this one in human form. He grabbed me by the waist, but I elbowed him hard. He grunted and lost his grip, and I took off again.
    Straight toward the old creek.
    I leapt over it, almost slipped on the mossy rock, and kept running until my lungs give out.
    A hand caught my ankle.
    I crashed forward, breath knocked out of me.
    He flipped me over and pinned me down.
    “You’re done running,” he said.
    I screamed. Bit his wrist. Kicked. He growled, shifting mid‑hold, muzzle snapping toward my face.
    Just then, another voice cut through the chaos.
    “Let her go.”
    The man froze.
    A shadow moved behind him. One of the guards who’d been quiet this whole time stepped forward, dark eyes locked on me.
    “She’s the King now. You don’t rough her up before she even gets there,” he said calmly.
    “I was following orders-“
    “Then follow them better.”
    The one pinning me hesitated, then released me slowly and backed off.
    I lay there gasping, blood on my lip, knees scraped, heart racing.
    “We’re taking you now,” the calm one said, extending a hand.
    I didn’t take it.
    “You’ll have to drag me,” I said.
    He gave a small smirk. “Then I will.”
    He stepped forward.
    But I was faster.
    I yanked the dagger from my boot-one I’d hidden there months ago for emergencies-and stabbed it into his thigh.
    He roared in pain.
    I jumped back and sprinted into the thickest part of the woods, branches tearing at my skin, hair flying behind me.
    They were shouting, chasing me again, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to stop.
    Not now. Not ever.
    I didn’t know where I was going.
    But I knew what I was running from.
    And that was enough.

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  • The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King by Krystal

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King by Krystal
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    Contract Marriage+Kickass Heroine+Hidden Identity+Regret
    For two long years, Aria Smith devoted everything to Ethan Holt, convinced she was his beloved Luna and his fated mate.
    Until a trip to replace her lost marriage certificate shattered every lie.
    Ethan had never loved her. Her closest best friend Clara was his real destined mate. The adopted son Aria had raised with all her love for two years was actually their biological child.
    Before she could process the brutal truth, a sudden call overturned her whole life. She was not a lonely, powerless human orphan as she had always believed. She was the sole legitimate heir to Vincent Smith’s staggering cross-realm fortune, inheriting his massive business empire that dominated both human and werewolf worlds.
    Her heart completely broken, Aria made her choice without hesitation.
    “I am single. Legally, I have never been anyone’s wife.”
    She cut off all ties with the Silver Creek Pack and stepped into her rightful identity as a billionaire heiress overnight.
    Ethan and Clara mocked her relentlessly. They believed the helpless human orphan could never survive outside the pack, and she would soon come crawling back begging for forgiveness.
    They never foresaw the day they met again.
    When Aria returned, she was no longer the humble, gentle human Luna who lived for Ethan. She stood powerful, wealthy, and untouchable, holding unmatched commercial power that shook the entire werewolf realm.
    And right by her side stood a dominant, peerless Alpha King-someone far more powerful than Ethan could ever dare to rival, ready to burn the whole world down for her revenge.

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    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King Chapter 1 How could our certificate possibly be fake !

    Aria’s POV
    “Ma’am, I’ve checked the system three times. There’s no marriage record under your name. Are you certain about the date?”

    I stood frozen outside the County Clerk’s office, the clerk’s words still ringing in my ears.

    Two years. Two years of believing I was Ethan Holt’s wife, his Luna.

    As the only human Luna, we had also applied for a marriage certificate in my human community, and it now sat in the nightstand drawer in my bedroom. Real enough that I never questioned our relationship, even though we never had a mating ceremony with his pack.

    Until three days ago, when Marcus tore it to shreds during one of his tantrums. That was what brought me here today-to get a replacement copy.

    But now, standing here with trembling hands…

    How could our certificate possibly be fake?!

    My phone buzzed. An unknown number. Normally I would have ignored it, but something made me answer.

    “Ms. Smith? Aria Smith?”

    “Speaking.” My voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.

    “My name is Richard Castellano. I’m the attorney handling the estate of Vincent Smith. I apologize for the abrupt contact, but it’s imperative that we meet as soon as possible. You are the sole heir to your father’s estate.”

    I blinked. “I’m sorry, what? I don’t have a father. My parents abandoned me when I was born.”

    “Ms. Smith, Vincent Smith passed away two weeks ago. The DNA test and his will are both conclusive. You are his only legitimate biological child.”

    Vincent Smith. That name was nothing short of legendary in both human society and the werewolf world. Orphaned as a child, taken in by a wolf pack, he’d displayed extraordinary business genius from an early age. As an adult, with the backing of his adoptive Alpha brother, he forged a massive commercial empire connecting the human and supernatural realms.

    And now someone was telling me that I, as his sole daughter, stood to inherit the bulk of his fortune?

    “The estate is substantial,” Castellano continued, “including commercial holdings across multiple Pack territories. We need to begin the inheritance process immediately.”

    “I need to confirm something first,” I heard myself say. “I’ll call you back.”

    The most important thing now was to verify my marriage status with my husband. If this was real, Ethan and I wouldn’t have to worry about the pack’s questioning looks anymore. I could complete the final mating ceremony with him smoothly, become the pack’s Luna, and lead them to even greater prosperity.

    The drive to Silver Creek Pack’s main building took twenty minutes.

    The hallway on the third floor was unusually quiet. As I approached Ethan’s office, voices drifted through the half-open door.

    A woman’s voice.

    “Ethan-yes-right there-“

    His voice, ragged and raw: “You feel so good, Clara.”

    Clara. My best friend.

    Then something even worse than betrayal hit like a freight train.

    “When are you going to get rid of her, Ethan? Our son is already three years old. I’m tired of pretending.” Clara’s voice was sharp with impatience.

    Marcus. The little boy Ethan claimed we’d adopted because my human body supposedly couldn’t handle pregnancy, and the pack needed a pup to serve as the Alpha’s heir.

    I couldn’t breathe. The pup I had lovingly raised was Ethan and Clara’s biological child.

    Inside the office, Ethan sighed. “Just a little longer.” His voice was cold. “We still need her. The Pack’s finances are stable because of her work. Once we’ve locked everything down, I’ll cut her loose.”

    “What am I supposed to do until then? Keep playing victim while she parades around as Luna?”

    “You know she’s nothing to me. Just a tool. Once we’ve squeezed every last drop of value out of her…”

    I didn’t wait to hear more.

    I shoved the door open.

    Clara was perched on Ethan’s desk, her blouse undone, skirt pushed up to her waist. Ethan was buried inside her, his hips driving into her as she gasped against his mouth.

    It made me want to throw up.

    “Sorry to interrupt.” My voice sliced through the air like a blade.

    They froze. Clara scrambled to cover herself, nearly falling off the desk. Ethan jerked upright, his mouth wet, his eyes wide with shock.

    I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a cold smile on my lips. “Don’t stop on my account. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

    “Aria. You shouldn’t be here,” Ethan said with mild annoyance.

    “Shouldn’t I?” My voice shook with rage. “You told me I was your True Mate. You pursued me for months. You convinced me the Moon Goddess chose us. But now you’re sleeping with my best friend?”

    “There’s nothing to explain. Clara is my destined mate.” Ethan said it flatly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The deal with V&A International Group needs final signatures. We need you for one last meeting as Luna. After that, we’ll give you reasonable compensation for your… services.”

    “Compensated?” The word tasted like poison. “You lied to me for two years. You used me to build your Pack’s business portfolio. And now you want to pay me off like a servant who’s served her purpose?”

    Clara walked toward me, adjusting her clothes with deliberate slowness. “You should be grateful, honestly. A human orphan with no family, no packs? Where else would you have ended up? If you’re smart, you’ll take whatever he offers and leave quietly. Otherwise-“

    I moved.

    I was across the room before Clara could finish, my hand fisting in her golden hair. Clara yelped, stumbling backward into the desk.

    “Aria!” Ethan grabbed my arm, twisting hard enough to make me gasp. Then he shoved me backward. Hard.

    I hit the floor, the impact jarring through my spine. Pain exploded in my tailbone. I looked up at him, stunned.

    Ethan stared down at me, his light blue eyes ice cold. “Touch her again and I’ll break your wrist.”

    The words hit harder than the fall.

    Something inside my chest cracked. Not my ribs. Something deeper.

    I pushed myself to my feet, my hands shaking. Everything hurt. Not just my body.

    “You’re going to regret this,” I said quietly. “Both of you.”

    I turned and walked out before either could respond.

    Back in my car, I dialed the lawyer’s number. “Mr. Castellano. About Vincent Smith’s estate. I’m ready to talk.”

    “Good. I need to confirm-inheritance requires the heir to sign as an independent individual. If married, the spouse must witness the process. Otherwise-“

    “I’m single,” I cut him off. “Legally, I always have been.”

    Silence for two seconds.

    “Understood,” Castellano said, his tone shifting, becoming more formal. “That simplifies things considerably. Are you available to meet soon?”

    “The sooner the better. I have plenty of time these days.”

    “My office then. This afternoon?”

    “I’ll see you at three.”

    I sat in the parking lot for another five minutes, staring at nothing.

    Two years of lies, manipulation, and humiliation. Two years of believing I was fighting for something real.

    But it was over now.

    Ethan was about to discover exactly what the fury of an heiress looked like.

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King Chapter 2 How pathetic

    Aria’s POV
    After signing the inheritance papers at Mr. Castellano’s office, I drove home in a daze.

    The house blazed with warm light. Through the front window I saw them-Ethan, Clara, and Marcus around the dining table like a perfect family portrait. Ethan laughed at something Clara said, his hand resting on the back of her chair. Marcus sat between them, grinning up at his father. Clara ruffled the boy’s golden hair; Ethan caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

    Domestic bliss.

    Everything I’d been too blind to see for two years snapped into clarity. The late nights he called “Pack business.” The way Marcus flinched whenever I tried to hold him. Clara’s constant presence, always with some excuse. They’d all known. Everyone except me.

    I forced myself to breathe. Not yet. Not here. I needed to play this smart.

    I walked in and schooled my face to careful neutrality. The laughter died the instant I stepped inside.

    “Aria.” Ethan stood quickly, putting distance between himself and Clara, as if that erased what I’d witnessed in his office. “You’re home early.”

    “Am I?” I crossed to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, more to occupy my hands than anything. My heart pounded in my ears.

    “Can we talk?” His voice was low, careful.

    I turned slowly. “About you and Clara?”

    “It’s not what you think. Clara’s going to be staying here as Marcus’s nanny. He needs consistency, and frankly, you’re not around enough-“

    “Not around enough?” I cut him off. “I’ve been running this Pack for you, Ethan. Every meeting, every decision-while you were off doing what, exactly?”

    His jaw tightened. “That’s not the point.”

    “Then what is?”

    “Marcus needs to be taken care of.”

    “I disagree. This is my home. I didn’t agree to a live-in nanny.”

    “She’s not just a nanny. She’s helped raise Marcus since he was born. He needs her here.”

    Of course. Because she was his real mother.

    “That’s not my problem,” I said. “If you want Clara housed, buy her an apartment. She’s not living under my roof.”

    “You’re just tired.” He raised a hand, his tone measured-managing me, like my opinion was a tantrum to be waited out. “We’ll discuss this after dinner.”

    “There’s nothing to discuss.”

    “Bad woman!”

    Marcus appeared out of nowhere, small face twisted with rage. “You’re really bad! You’re mean to Clara!”

    “Marcus, that’s enough-” Ethan started.

    But the boy was already charging at me, hands outstretched. He slammed into me with surprising force. I stumbled back, my hip colliding with the corner of the side table-exactly where I’d hit the floor in Ethan’s office earlier. Pain exploded through my lower back; my vision went white.

    “Marcus!” Ethan grabbed him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you doing?”

    “She’s mean!” Marcus wailed, but his eyes were dry-nothing but calculated defiance. “She’s mean to Clara and mean to you and I hate her!”

    Ethan reached for me. “Aria, I’m sorry, he didn’t mean-“

    I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

    I pushed myself upright, ignoring the swimming in my vision. My tailbone throbbed from earlier; now my hip would bruise too.

    Clara burst in and gathered Marcus into her arms, stroking his hair while he buried his face in her neck. The devoted mother, perfectly performed.

    “He’s just a kid,” she murmured, kissing his temple. “Please forgive him.”

    “What a touching scene of motherly devotion,” I said. “I’m starting to wonder if he’s actually your biological pup.”

    Clara’s expression tightened-clearly she wasn’t sure how much I’d overheard.

    “Aria, as your friend, I’m very disappointed in you-“

    I turned and walked upstairs, each step sending fresh jolts of pain through my hip.

    I spent the next hour in the guest bathroom, running the hottest water I could stand. My hip had already darkened to purple, matching the bruise on my tailbone. Two injuries in one day. Both from the same “family.”

    By the time I emerged in pajamas, the house had gone quiet. A knock at the door.

    “Come in.”

    Ethan stepped inside, closing the door carefully. He looked tired. Worried. Like he actually gave a damn.

    “How are you feeling?”

    “Fantastic. Your son has quite the arm.”

    His jaw tightened. “He’s been disciplined. It won’t happen again.”

    “Right. Like the last dozen times really stuck.”

    He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know today has been difficult. But Clara needs to stay here. Marcus needs her. She’s been more of a mother to him than-“

    “Than me?” I finished. “Yes, I’m aware. Hard to bond with a child who’s been taught to hate me since birth.”

    “That’s not-” He caught himself, changing tactics. “This isn’t about you and Clara. This is about what’s best for Marcus. He’s settled here. Taking Clara away would disrupt his entire world.”

    I stared at him, this man I’d believed was my husband, my mate. This man who’d convinced me I was broken. This man who’d built his entire Pack’s success on my labor while keeping his real family hidden in plain sight.

    He was still lying. Still manipulating.

    Fine. Let him think he’d won.

    “I have a condition,” I said.

    Wariness flickered across his face. “What kind?”

    “My birthday is next week. You forgot last year, and the year before. So this year, I want a proper gift.” I kept my voice light. “The penthouse at Meridian Tower. Top floor. In my name only.”

    He went very still. “That’s a fifteen million dollar property.”

    “Is it?” I tilted my head. “I think it’s fair-as a birthday gift, and as compensation for what you’ve done.”

    The muscle in his jaw jumped. For a moment I thought he might finally drop the pretense. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

    “Fine. Consider it an early birthday present.”

    “And the transfer note,” I added. “For Aria’s house fund. Happy birthday.”

    He tapped at the screen, expression darkening with every second, then turned the phone toward me. Fifteen million dollars. Transfer note included.

    “Happy birthday,” he said flatly.

    “Thank you, Ethan.” I let the endearment drip with acid. “You’re so generous.”

    He pocketed his phone. “Clara stays.”

    “Clara stays,” I agreed.

    He nodded and left.

    I waited until the door clicked shut, then pulled out my phone and opened the banking app.

    Balance: $15,150,000.00

    Two years as Luna-hosting banquets, negotiating alliances, building his reputation. My card had never seen a single paycheck, not a penny of Pack money. The only funds I’d ever had were fifteen thousand saved from part-time jobs during school.

    Now, because I’d caught him with Clara-because she was the leverage that finally forced his hand-he remembered I existed.

    How pathetic.

    The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King Chapter 3 Now it was his turn

    Aria’s POV
    I woke to the smell of pancakes and coffee.

    For a moment, still half-asleep, it felt almost normal. Then I heard Clara’s laugh drifting up from the kitchen, and reality came crashing back.

    I took my time getting dressed. Let them have their little domestic fantasy. I could afford to be patient. After all, I was a billionaire now. And their client.

    By the time I came downstairs, a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon sat waiting on the counter-the kind of gesture meant to look like an apology. I reached for it.

    Marcus lunged forward and yanked it away, the plate clattering against the marble. “No! This is for Clara! Daddy made it special for her!”

    Clara hurried over, hands fluttering. “Marcus, sweetie, that’s not how we treat people. Apologize to Aria.” Her words were honey. Her eyes, locked on mine, were pure triumph.

    Ethan appeared in the doorway. “Marcus. Apologize. Now.”

    The boy shuffled toward me, not meeting my eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered.

    I didn’t accept it.

    I stood, crossed the room, grabbed him, and pressed him against the wall. I took a thin branch from the nearby vase and brought it down hard on his backside.

    He burst into tears.

    “Aria, that’s too much.” Clara stepped forward. “He already apologized-“

    “Funny,” I said, landing another strike. “By what right do you interfere with a mother disciplining her child?”

    Clara’s face went white. “He’s still young… he didn’t do anything that wrong…”

    “Small mistakes uncorrected become big ones. If I don’t discipline him now, I’ll have a harder time later.”

    That shut her up.

    Ethan stepped forward and caught my wrist. “That’s enough.”

    He was right. The anger had cooled. I tossed the branch to the floor. Marcus scrambled behind Clara, sobbing too hard to even glare at me.

    “Marcus.” I fixed my gaze on him. “As long as I’m your mother, you will show me respect. If you can’t learn that, I’ll adopt a better child to be the pack’s rightful heir.”

    The room went quiet. Even Marcus stopped crying. I was smiling when I said it.

    “Aria, don’t-” Ethan’s voice tightened.

    “Don’t what?” I turned to him, sweetly. “Since I accepted adopting one child with no blood relation to me, I can certainly adopt a second. As long as you want me to stay with this pack, don’t try to provoke me.”

    Looking at their three faces, all dark as thunder, I cheerfully picked up my purse. “Enjoy your breakfast. All of you.”

    I was halfway to my car when footsteps followed.

    “Aria, wait.” Ethan caught up, slightly breathless. “I’ll drive you to the office. We can go over the Riverside contract on the way.”

    “I’m not going to the office.”

    “What? We have the meeting with-“

    “Reschedule it.” I pulled open the car door. “I have other plans.”

    “What other plans?”

    “I’m going to look at a house.”

    I closed the door and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, he stood in the driveway, fists clenched at his sides.

    The Meridian Tower was everything the listing had promised. Floor-to-ceiling windows, soaring ceilings, and most importantly, it was mine.

    Now I just needed furniture.

    The furniture district catered to Pack elite-somewhere I’d never shopped before, too expensive for someone like me. Now, walking through the gleaming showrooms, I felt like a kid in a candy store.

    That was when I saw it. A sofa in deep charcoal leather sat center stage. The tag read “Russo Collection – Limited Edition. 1 of 3.”

    Perfect.

    I was reaching for my phone when a voice cut through the air.

    “Excuse me, but I’m taking this one.”

    A woman about my age stood there, arms crossed, looking at me like I was something unpleasant she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. Dressed head to toe in designer labels, blonde hair in perfect waves, makeup flawless.

    “I’m sorry?” I said.

    “The sofa.” She gestured impatiently. “I saw it first. So you’ll have to find something else.”

    “I don’t think that’s how shopping works.”

    Her lips thinned. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

    “Should I?”

    A flush crept up her neck. “I’m Vanessa Crane. My father is Alpha Richard Crane of the Riverside Pack. And when I say I want something, I get it.”

    “That’s nice,” I said, turning back to the sofa. “I’m still buying it.”

    Vanessa’s face flushed scarlet. She snapped her fingers. Two large men in black suits materialized from behind the displays. “This woman is harassing me. Escort her out.”

    They moved toward me. I tensed.

    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

    A deep, cultured voice from the entrance-carrying the kind of authority that made everyone freeze. A silver-haired man in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit strode in, flanked by six men in dark suits. He moved like someone who had wielded power for decades and never once had to raise his voice.

    Vanessa’s guards stepped back instantly. Her face drained of color.

    “Beta Harrison,” she stammered. “I didn’t know you were-“

    “Clearly.” He didn’t look at her. His attention was fixed entirely on me. He inclined his head in something close to a bow. “Miss Smith. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

    The showroom went silent.

    “I’m Harrison Reid, Beta of Crescent Moon Pack. Your uncle Victor sent me to find you.”

    “Wait.” Vanessa’s voice came out strangled. “Smith? As in-Vincent Smith?”

    Harrison finally turned to her. “Miss Crane. I believe you were just threatening my boss’s daughter and sole heir. Would you like to rephrase your earlier comments?”

    Vanessa went from pale to gray. “I didn’t-she didn’t say-I had no idea-“

    “Ignorance is not an excuse for disrespect. Particularly when you were having her physically removed from the premises.”

    She turned to me, all earlier arrogance dissolved. “I’m so sorry. If I had known-“

    “You would have been polite?” I said. “How nice. Unfortunately, basic decency shouldn’t require a family pedigree.”

    “Please-if there’s anything I can do to make this right-“

    “An apology is enough. You can go.”

    She practically fled, her guards scrambling after her.

    I turned to the sales associate. “I’ll take the sofa. Have it delivered to the Meridian Tower, penthouse floor.” I paused. “And the matching armchair.”

    Then I faced Harrison. “Quite an entrance.”

    “Word will spread quickly. But it was necessary. Aria Smith is not to be trifled with. It will save you considerable trouble down the line.”

    He gestured toward the exit. “The car is waiting, Miss Smith. Shall we?”

    “Where are we going?”

    “Crescent Moon Pack house.” A slight smile. “Your home.”

    I was silent for a moment. My father-Vincent Smith. A billion-dollar inheritance had landed in my lap. Going to Crescent Moon was inevitable.

    “Alright,” I said. “If it’s my home, I should at least see it for myself.”

    What was meant to come would come eventually.

    👉 CONTINUE READING

  • Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride by Alibi

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha's Seventh Bride by Alibi
    👉 READ NOW

    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?

    👉 READ NOW

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 1

    Wolfless But Mind Reader
    Emilia’s POV
    For a very long time, I had believed that pain was something a person could grow used to, the same way one grew used to winter wind slipping through cracked windows or old scars aching before rain.
    In the Frostridge pack, I was not simply disliked. I was considered an error that had somehow survived birth.
    My father was Alpha Henry, but being his daughter had never protected me, because my mother had been a witch, and in a pack that worshiped pure wolf blood above almost everything else, my mixed blood became a crime no one needed to prove before punishing me for it.
    When I was younger, I used to wonder if they would have treated me differently if my wolf had awakened early, if I had shifted beneath the moon like every other Alpha-blooded child was expected to do, if my claws had been sharp enough and my howl loud enough to make them forget the witch half of me.
    But year after year, nothing came.
    Hybrid.
    Bastard.
    Curse.
    The words followed me through the halls of the pack house, across the training field. My stepsister Linda was even better at it; she never needed to raise her hand when she could turn an entire room against me with one sweet, pitying glance.
    By the time I turned twenty-two, I had already learned how to lower my eyes when elders looked at me with disgust, how to ignore the servants who whispered that I was cursed, and how to pretend my stepmother Dorothy’s gentle smile did not hurt more than open cruelty because it always came before she reminded me, in the softest possible voice, that I should be grateful the pack still allowed me to stay.
    The only reason I had not completely collapsed under all of it was Brandon Cole.
    He had been my hope for so long that I no longer knew how to separate him from the idea of survival itself.
    Brandon was the strongest young warrior in our pack, handsome, admired, and respected in a way I had never been.
    “When she comes, Emmy,” he used to whisper, brushing his lips over my scars as if they were something precious instead of proof of every punishment I had endured, “everyone who looked down on you will regret it.”
    So I waited.
    I waited through my eighteenth birthday, when most wolves shifted for the first time and I felt nothing but silence beneath my skin. I waited through nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one, while the pack’s disappointment hardened into mockery and my father’s eyes grew colder each time he looked at me. I waited until my twenty-second birthday, the final night a werewolf could still awaken before being declared permanently defective.
    Tonight was my last chance.
    Under the full moon, surrounded by wolves who had gathered less to witness my awakening than to enjoy my final failure, I stood barefoot in the ritual circle and forced myself not to tremble. The silver bowl before me reflected the moonlight, the elder’s chant rose and fell like distant thunder, and somewhere beyond the crowd, Brandon watched me with an expression I wanted desperately to believe was love.
    Then the ritual ended.
    Nothing happened.
    A few wolves laughed.
    My stepmother sighed as if my failure had personally inconvenienced her, Linda lowered her eyes to hide the smile pulling at her lips, and my father turned away before the elder even announced what everyone already knew.
    That would be the worst pain of the night.
    But I was wrong.
    As I stepped out of the ritual circle, something sharp split through my skull, and a flood of voices crashed into me all at once.
    [What a waste of moonlight.]
    [I knew she wouldn’t shift.]
    [Brandon must be tired of pretending by now.]
    I froze.
    No one’s mouth had moved.
    The wolves around me were still laughing, whispering, staring, but beneath their spoken words came another layer of sound-clearer, uglier, impossible to ignore.
    Their thoughts.
    Panic tightened around my throat as I stumbled back, pressing a hand against my temple while the pack’s hidden cruelty poured into me without mercy. Every smile had a second voice. Every pitying glance carried a knife. They had hated me more deeply than I had ever allowed myself to imagine.
    I needed Brandon.
    I needed the one person who had always made the noise of the pack feel far away.
    But as I pushed through the crowd, desperate to find him, a maid passed close enough for her thoughts to slice through the chaos.
    [Brandon followed Linda into her room again. Goddess, I swear, if I have to wait for them to finish and then scrub another set of destroyed sheets, I’m going to lose it.]
    My body stopped moving.
    For one heartbeat, the entire world went silent.
    Then my blood turned cold.
    I grabbed the maid’s wrist so hard she cried out.
    “What did you say?”
    Her eyes widened in terror. “Miss Emilia, I didn’t say anything.”
    She was telling the truth.
    Her lips had not moved.
    But I had heard her.
    A terrible numbness spread through me as I released the maid and turned toward the pack house. I did not remember crossing the courtyard, climbing the stairs, or passing the servants who stepped out of my way with startled faces and guilty minds. I only remembered the pounding of my heart and the foolish, desperate prayer repeating inside me.
    Please be wrong.
    Please let this be the one thought I misunderstood.
    Please let him still be mine.
    When I reached Linda’s door, I already knew.
    I pushed the door open.
    The scene before me was worse than any nightmare.
    The bed creaked rhythmically, obscene sounds spilling.
    Brandon-my Brandon-was naked, his body moving over someone sprawled beneath him on the bed. Linda’s long legs wrapped around his waist, her nails raking down his back as she moaned his name.
    My sister. My boyfriend.
    In that moment, I didn’t feel pain. I felt nothing. Just a hollow, echoing void where my heart should have been.
    Then their thoughts crashed into my mind like broken glass.
    [God, she’s so much better than Emilia. Tighter. More responsive. How did I waste many years on that frigid wolfless bitch?] Brandon’s voice, clear in my head even as his mouth was occupied elsewhere.
    [Look at her standing there like a pathetic little ghost. Does she really think Brandon ever loved her? Please. He’s been mine since the day I decided I wanted him.] Linda’s thoughts dripped with venom and smug satisfaction.
    The numbness shattered.
    Rage-pure, incandescent fury-flooded through me.
    I grabbed the vase from the dresser near the door and hurled it at the wall beside the bed. It exploded with a satisfying crash.
    They jerked apart, Linda screaming, Brandon scrambling to cover himself.
    “Emilia!” Brandon’s face went white. “This isn’t-I can explain-“
    “Explain?” My voice came out low and deadly calm. “Explain how you’ve been fucking my sister for three months while telling me you loved me?”
    His jaw dropped. “How did you-“
    “Does it matter?” I stepped into the room, my hands clenched into fists.
    Linda sat up, not bothering to cover herself, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “Oh, please. Don’t act so surprised, Emilia. Did you really think someone like Brandon would settle for a wolfless freak like you?”
    [She’s even more pathetic than I thought. Look at her, about to cry. This is delicious.]
    I moved before I could think. My hand connected with Brandon’s cheek with a crack that echoed through the room.

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 2

    Sent to the Demon
    Emilia’s POV
    Brandon staggered back, hand flying to his reddening face. “What the fuck-“
    The second slap hit even harder.
    “That’s for lying to me for a year,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. “For making me believe you cared about me. For being a fucking coward who couldn’t even break up with me before shoving your dick into my sister.”
    “You crazy bitch!” Brandon lunged toward me, but I was already moving.
    I grabbed Linda’s designer purse from the nightstand and flung it at his head. It connected with a satisfying thud.
    “We’re done,” I said coldly. “Don’t ever speak to me again. Don’t look at me. Don’t even breathe in my direction. You disgust me.”
    I turned to Linda, whose smirk had finally faltered.
    “And you. Congratulations. You’ve won the grand prize-a cheating coward with a small dick and no future. I hope you’re very happy together.”
    I didn’t wait for a response. I spun on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
    My father’s office was on the first floor. I stormed through the hallways, ignoring the curious stares of lingering guests, my heart hammering against my ribs.
    I didn’t bother knocking. I shoved the door open.
    Alpha Henry sat behind his desk, Dorothy perched on the edge beside him. They both looked up, startled.
    “Emilia,” my father began. “What are you-“
    “Did you know?” I demanded, my voice raw from everything I had just swallowed and everything I could no longer pretend not to understand. “Did you know Brandon was cheating on me with Linda?”
    Alpha Henry only leaned back in his chair and looked at me with the tired impatience.
    “Sit down, Emilia.”
    “No.”
    My answer was sharper than I expected, and the silence that followed made Dorothy lift her brows.
    “Did you know?” I asked again.
    This time, my father did not bother to lie.
    “Yes.”
    The word hit harder than finding Brandon in Linda’s bed.
    “You knew,” I whispered.
    “Brandon is a talented warrior,” my father said coldly, as if that explained everything. “He is one of the most promising wolves in this generation, and the pack has invested too much in him to waste his future on sentiment.”
    For a moment, I could only stare at him, because I had come into this room expecting anger, perhaps even disappointment, but not this calm, practical cruelty that treated my heartbreak as nothing more than poor strategy.
    Then he said the thing he had clearly been waiting to say.
    “You failed your Awakening.”
    The room went still.
    “You were given twenty-two years, Emilia,” he continued, his voice hardening with each word. “and yet after all that time, you are still standing here exactly as you began.”
    [Wolfless.]
    [Useless.]
    [Unwanted.]
    He did not need to say the words aloud.
    I heard them anyway.
    “So that’s it?” I asked, my throat tightening around the question. “Because I didn’t shift, Brandon gets to betray me, Linda gets to humiliate me, and you get to pretend none of it matters?”
    “Linda has a wolf,” Henry snapped. “Linda has value. Brandon needs a mate who can stand beside him, bear strong heirs, and strengthen this pack. Not you.”
    “If I was such a disappointment,” I said slowly, “then why did you have me at all?”
    His expression changed. “Watch your tone.”
    “No,” I said, and once the word left me, everything I had buried for years began to rise with it. “If you hated my mother so much, why chose her? If you hated what I was, why let me live here for twenty-two years begging for scraps of approval you never planned to give me?”
    Dorothy’s face cooled. “That is enough.”
    Henry slammed his hand against the desk. The sound cracked through the office.
    “I chose this pack.”
    That was when I saw the black envelope.
    Dorothy picked it up from the desk with graceful fingers and placed it where I could see the silver wax seal pressed into the paper.
    The Simons crest.
    My blood turned cold before she even spoke.
    “Linda received an invitation from the Simons family,” Dorothy said gently, and the sweetness in her voice made my stomach twist. “But after discussing it carefully, your father and I have decided that you will attend in her place.”
    For a few seconds, I could not make sense of the words, because the Simons family was not merely powerful or wealthy; they were feared, whispered about, avoided by every family with daughters old enough to marry.
    And Alpha Sebastian Simons was the worst of them.
    Six brides.
    Six funerals.
    “You want me to replace Linda,” I said, each word colder than the last, “because you’re afraid he will kill her.”
    “No one said that,” Dorothy replied.
    But my father’s thoughts moved through my mind with brutal clarity.
    [Linda is too valuable to risk.]
    “It is a duty,” my father corrected. “The Simons alliance can save Frostridge pack.”
    “And if I die?”
    Neither of them answered.
    They did not need to.
    My father’s thoughts answered for them.
    [If she dies, we lose nothing.]
    For a moment, the office seemed to disappear around me, and all I could feel was the horrible clarity of finally knowing my place in this family, not as a daughter, not even as a shame they wished to hide, but as a body they could send into danger because no one would mourn the loss.
    I stepped back.
    “No.”
    Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Emilia.”
    “No,” I repeated, louder this time. “I won’t go.”
    His Alpha aura filled the room, heavy enough to press against my bones. “You have spent your entire life receiving this pack’s mercy. Now you will repay it.”
    “Mercy?” I laughed, though my chest felt like it was breaking open. “You call this mercy?”
    “I call it obedience.”
    Then he looked past me.
    “Guards.”
    The door opened before I could reach it, and two warriors seized my arms from behind with enough force to make pain shoot through my shoulders.
    I kicked, twisted, screamed, and when one of them dragged me backward, I sank my teeth into his wrist with every bit of rage I had left.
    He cursed, his grip loosened.
    For one wild second, I was free.
    Then something slammed into the back of my head.
    Pain burst white behind my eyes, the floor tilted beneath me, and as darkness began to drag me under, I heard my father’s thoughts one last time, calm and relieved in a way his voice had never been.
    [Finally.]
    [That problem is taken care of.]
    The dark closed in.
    And in the last fading corner of my mind, I understood.
    No one in Frostridge pack expected me to survive.
    They had already abandoned me to death.

    Chosen as the Cursed Alpha’s Seventh Bride Chapter 3

    Bride Selection
    Emilia’s POV
    The scent of roses and expensive perfume hit me first.
    My eyes fluttered open to find myself staring at an ornate ceiling with intricate moldings. The bed beneath me was obscenely soft.
    Where the hell was I?
    I sat up too quickly. My head spun, the sedative still clinging to my system. The room around me was massive-easily twice the size of my bedroom back at the Frostridge pack house. Everything screamed wealth: silk curtains, marble floors, a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace.
    Then I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror across the room.
    They’d dressed me up like a doll.
    My hair cascaded down my back in soft waves, and my makeup highlighted my best features. My eyes looked deeper, my lips fuller, and my reflection almost felt unfamiliar.
    The navy silk dress fit me perfectly, elegant and flattering, making it impossible to look away.
    I looked gorgeous.
    I looked like a bride being prepared for slaughter.
    Of course they made me pretty. Can’t send damaged goods to the devil himself.
    My father had held that elaborate birthday ceremony not out of love, but as a public display-proof that he’d treated both daughters equally. Then he could ship me off to Sebastian Simons with a clear conscience, his reputation intact.
    Linda got Brandon. I got a death sentence.
    He’d probably started planning this the moment my wolf failed to emerge.
    A sharp knock at the door.
    “Miss Taylor?” A woman’s voice. “Alpha Sebastian’s selection will begin shortly. Please follow me.”
    My stomach dropped. This was really happening.
    I opened the door to find a middle-aged woman in a black uniform. She looked me up and down with cold assessment.
    The Frostridge pack must really be desperate, her thoughts hit me. Sending a wolfless embarrassment to Alpha Sebastian. Do they think we’re idiots?
    The malice in her thoughts made my jaw clench. But I kept my expression calm, following her down a hallway that seemed to stretch forever.
    The mansion was even more impressive than my room suggested-a sprawling estate that mixed modern luxury with old-world elegance. We passed floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens, walls lined with what I suspected were original Renaissance paintings.
    As we walked through the double doors, the noise hit me.
    Not sound-thoughts.
    Dozens of them, all at once, crashing into my mind like a tidal wave.
    I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Marrying a notorious demon. My life is over.
    He might be violent, but his marriages never last long. Two months tops, then divorce. But that severance package… eighteen million dollars and the status of being a Simons? Worth the risk.
    Oh God, she’s gorgeous. If that wolfless bitch gets chosen instead of me, I swear I’ll-
    My father’s going to kill me if I don’t get selected. The pack needs this alliance. I have to make him notice me.
    The thoughts overlapped, tangled, multiplied. It felt like a thousand bees had nested inside my skull, their buzzing growing louder and louder until I couldn’t tell where one thought ended and another began.
    My vision blurred. The hallway tilted.
    I pressed a hand against the wall, trying to steady myself, but the thoughts kept coming, relentless and overwhelming.
    Why is she touching the wall? Is she going to faint? Pathetic.
    The guide’s thoughts cut through the chaos, sharp with disdain.
    “Miss Taylor?” Her voice sounded distant, underwater. “Are you quite alright?”
    I couldn’t answer. My throat had closed. My lungs refused to expand. The edges of my vision darkened as panic clawed up my chest.
    *Breathe, *I commanded myself desperately. Just breathe.
    But the voices in my head wouldn’t stop. They grew louder, angrier, more frantic.
    A waiting area, with at least thirty women, all dressed to perfection, all wearing varying expressions of fear and determination.
    The receiving room doors burst open.
    A woman stumbled out, makeup streaked down her face, shoulders shaking with sobs. As she rushed past me, her thoughts slammed into mine with devastating clarity.
    I’ve never met such a cruel, heartless Alpha in my life. The way he looked at me-like I was dirt. Like I was nothing. God, I just want to go home. I want to disappear. I want-
    She was gone before I could process it, but two more women followed in quick succession, each one crying, each one broadcasting their terror and humiliation directly into my brain.
    Monster. He’s a monster.
    Those eyes. Those cold, empty eyes. Like a predator deciding whether to kill you now or later.
    I’m not pretty enough. I’m not smart enough. I’ll never be enough for someone like him.
    I doubled over, pressing my palms against my temples, trying desperately to shut them out. But I couldn’t. The ability was too new, too raw. I had no control.
    “Miss Taylor!” The guide’s hand gripped my elbow, steadying me. “You’re next. Pull yourself together.”
    I forced my head up, blinking away the spots dancing across my vision.
    Two guards flanked the entrance, massive wolves who watched me with undisguised contempt.
    *Run, *every instinct screamed. Run now while you still can.
    But I’d seen the guards. I’d seen how the estate was locked down tighter than a prison. Even if I made it past them, where would I go? Back to a father who’d drugged and sold me? Back to a sister who’d stolen my boyfriend and laughed about it?
    I had nowhere to run. No one to save me.
    So I did the only thing I could.
    I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and walked through those doors like I had a choice in any of this.
    The receiving room was enormous. But despite its size, the air felt suffocating, pressing down on me from all sides.
    And then I saw him.
    Sebastian Simons sat in the center of the room on a leather sofa that looked more like a throne. Even seated, his presence dominated the space. Tall. Powerfully built. He radiated the kind of authority that made people instinctively want to kneel.
    Dark hair. High cheekbones. A straight nose. Every feature sharp and defined.
    His eyes… Green. Piercing. Intense and unforgiving.
    Those eyes locked onto mine.
    And suddenly, the world went silent.
    All the voices-the screaming, buzzing chaos that had been tearing my mind apart-vanished in an instant.
    I couldn’t hear his thoughts. Couldn’t sense anything from him except… presence. Weight. Power.
    It was the most peaceful silence I’d experienced since this cursed ability had awakened.
    And this peace, ironically, came from the very man most likely to kill me.

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