Diversion

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

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

This was the twenty-seventh time my husband had brought his mistress into my studio. His buddies were placing bets in the outer room, wagering on whether I would throw a jar of turpentine in their faces this time. I didn't. My brush came down steady and sure. Until that woman simpered and asked for the signature on a painting. "On what grounds?" I challenged her out loud for the first time. He flicked his cigarette ash and answered, offhand: "It's just a signature, isn't it?" It wasn't just a painting. It was ten years of relentless practice. I laughed. Ten years—and I had finally given up on him for good. "Then go ahead and sign the divorce papers while you're at it."

I was reincarnated into a brutal world ruled by dragons as a "Dragonless" outcast, only to finally reunite with my biological noble family. But the very day I was brought home, my family was framed for treason and sentenced to a lethal exile in the frozen north. The fake daughter who stole my life for seventeen years mocked us, abandoning our name to join the enemies who orchestrated our downfall. During the brutal death march, I relied on my secret spatial storage and modern medical knowledge to keep my family alive. I cured my father's rotting whip wounds, protected my brother from sadistic guards, and finally secured a warm meal and a moment of peace for our exhausted camp. We thought we had survived the worst of the royal purge. But just as we let our guard down, my father, brother, and all the men in our bloodline suddenly collapsed, violently choking on black blood and foaming at the mouth. I was completely stunned. The lethal nerve toxin wasn't in the main cooking pot that the women and children ate from. It was slipped directly into the men's individual bowls. The poison didn't come from the cruel guards or the royal inquisitors. It came from someone sitting right beside our own campfire. There is a traitor hiding among my closest family members, and I swear I will drag them out of the shadows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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.

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.

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?

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."

Talia Ashford has spent fifteen years hiding behind a glamour charm that makes her look plain, weak, and forgettable. Her stepmother, Vivienne Cress, reduced her to a servant after her mother disappeared in a mysterious fire. The pack believes Talia is worthless. On the day the Alpha of Shadowfang arrives, Celeste hits Talia and blames her for bad luck. But when Talia is called to the bonding ceremony, the bonding stone reveals a shocking truth. Talia is already bonded to Kaelen Frost, the cold and powerful Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack. Now Talia must survive her stepmother's schemes, hide her true powers, and uncover the truth about her mother – all while convincing the most dangerous wolf in the territory that she is not the weakling everyone believes her to be.

I stood outside the Pack Registration Hall, waiting to bind my future with Mark, the man I had loved for five years. But instead of taking my hand, he stopped a foot away and publicly rejected me in front of the crowd. "I can't take on your family's endless medical bills. I need a real she-wolf for a mate, not some wolfless mutt." The onlookers snickered, their whispers feeling like physical blows. My heart shattered into pieces. My grandfather was in the hospital, relying on me to settle down so he could face his risky surgery with peace of mind. Now, I was left with nothing but humiliation and a mountain of debt I could never pay off. I stared at the man I had devoted my entire youth to, his face now completely foreign. Why was my lack of a wolf a sin? Why did my family's suffering make me a burden to be thrown away like trash? Just as I was about to break, I saw a tall, intimidating stranger across the plaza, swarmed by reporters after his own high-society fiancée publicly dumped him. Driven by sheer desperation for my grandfather's life, I wiped my tears, walked straight up to this terrifying man, and blocked his path. "You need a mate to save face, and I need a million dollars for medical bills. Marry me." I expected him to laugh and push me aside. Instead, a calculating smile touched his lips, and he handed me a black card.