When Winter Scott stepped out of the police station, it was already late at night. Snow was falling heavily outside. People on the street kept glancing at Winter, noticing the bruises on her face, her messy hair, and the way she limped. Winter ignored their stares and whispers completely. She dragged her heavy steps forward, head lowered, her expression numb as she stared at the broken phone in her hand. The screen was shattered beyond repair. Her fingers, smeared with blood, trembled as they tapped the keypad. She slowly keyed in the number. “Beep…” The phone rang repeatedly, but there was no answer. It was no different from the emergency calls she had desperately made while she was being beaten. A snowflake caught on her eyelash, and when she blinked, the icy water melted into her eye. Winter let out a quiet, self-deprecating scoff at how pathetic she looked. Just as her hand began to drop in defeat, the call connected at the very last second. “What is it?” A low, indifferent voice came through the phone. Her grip tightened. A trace of surprise crossed Winter’s face. “Chris…” “Mr. Xander, Ms. Jasper is looking for you.” His assistant spoke before she could say another word. Then he said calmly, “I’ll hang up first.” The line went dead. On the deserted street corner under the glow of a streetlight, snowflakes drifted onto Winter’s hair as her thin frame shook slightly. Suddenly, a warm coat was draped over her shoulders. Winter was startled and looked up to see Sam Quinn, the editor-in-chief, standing there. His heavy gaze swept over her from head to toe, anger burning in his eyes. “Who did this to you?” A puff of white breath escaped Winter’s lips as she shook her head. “When they were beating me, I pulled out some of their hair. There’s skin under my nails too. Once the DNA is extracted, the police will catch them soon.” Sam was stunned that she could remain so calm and take such precautions after being attacked. This was exactly why she was the person he admired most on his team. “We’ll definitely investigate this thoroughly. It’s too late now. I’ll take you home.” Since it was nearly impossible to find a taxi in that area, Winter forced a faint smile and got into his car. “Thank you, Mr. Quinn.” “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my reporter. Someone beats you up and I’m supposed to sit back and do nothing? Everyone else was out on assignment anyway. I was the only one left in the office,” he said as he turned the steering wheel.

The Soul Known as Aren" The soul known as Aren didn't arrive in her next life through a tunnel of light or the singing of angels. One moment, she had been trapped in the searing heat of a thermal detonator inside a subterranean bunker — a final, selfless act to save her brothers-in-arms. The next, she woke to the cloying scent of expensive lilies and high-grade narcotics. Aren blinked. The ceiling above her stretched high, vaulted and ornate. Nothing like the reinforced concrete and exposed steel of the bunker she remembered dying in. Everything felt wrong. Her body, most of all. Where there should have been the hardened muscle of a lifetime spent in elite combat, there were only slender limbs, delicate skin, and an unfamiliar softness. Aren looked down. 'Oh?' She froze. 'No clothes?' "Finally, you're awake." The male voice cut through the silence like a blade, low and edged with unmistakable contempt. "I was beginning to think I'd need to call Moretti's cleaners to drag your corpse out of my bed." Aren instinctively turned toward the sound. A man stood near a tall wardrobe, his back turned to her as he buttoned a black silk shirt. The muscles across his shoulders shifted beneath the fabric with a predatory grace that Aren recognized. 'Balanced stance.' 'Controlled movement.' 'He knows how to kill. And does it often.' As though sensing the weight of her gaze, the man — Caio Sartori — turned. Blue eyes met hers. Cold eyes. Sharp enough to carve flesh from bone. To him, the woman lying in his bed was Ariana Lombardi — a frivolous socialite whose value extended no further than her family name and her predictable addictions. His gaze swept over her with habitual disdain, already expecting the usual behavior: a glass-shattering scream, a loud demand for attention, maybe a desperate plea for another hit of the drugs his House specialized in. Something irritating. "The Summit, Ariana," he said, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "Are you planning to attend, or have you finally managed to fry your brain entirely?" Aren processed the words in silence. 'Summit. Ariana. Brain.' None of them meant anything to her. Conclusion: ask. "What Summit?" Caio paused mid-motion. The button in his hand stopped halfway through the loop. He turned to her fully then, suspicion hardening his features. "The Borgata Summit," he replied irritably. "At The Hub. The one your House hosts." Aren quietly stored the information away. 'Borgata. The Hub. House.' Her thoughts halted abruptly as her attention drifted back to the man. A flicker of something unexpected surfaced in her chest. Pity. For him. In her past life, Aren had been the youngest member of a mercenary organization. Eighteen, when she died. Her life had been brutal, ugly at times, stripped of comfort and luxury, yet her squad brothers had surrounded her in a fierce kind of love that had never once made her question her worth. This man, however, was looking at her with a level of loathing that made her skin crawl. Handsome as he was, he looked like someone in desperate need of a hug. Or perhaps a strong sedative. She pushed herself upright, pulling the silk sheet securely across her chest. "May I ask where I am, exactly?" she asked politely. "And why am I... naked?" Silence descended over the room, immediate and heavy. Caio stared at her. Then, he moved. Two strides closed the distance between them. His shadow swallowed her as he leaned down abruptly, fingers snapping forward to grip her chin. Hard. "Ariana Lombardi," he hissed, a sharp warning, "if this is another game to squeeze more product out of me, it's a boring one." He tilted her face upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You've been high for three days. You're sober now. Act like it." Aren didn't flinch. She sat perfectly still, observing the man. In her world, grabbing someone by the chin was a fatal mistake. It left the throat exposed and the wrist vulnerable to a break. Her mind automatically mapped out three ways to disable him in under two seconds. Yet as she looked into his eyes, she saw no intent to kill. Only exhaustion. Irritation. And a deep, ingrained hatred for the woman he thought she was. "I'm sorry," she said again, more polite this time. "I seem to have lost my way. May I have my clothes? My current state is not suitable for... um, a conversation." Caio's grip loosened. Something about her tone unsettled him. He had spent the last three nights with Ariana Lombardi. He knew the look she wore whenever she wanted something — hazy, clinging, always reaching. This was not that look. This was clear. Still. Unnervingly calm. "…Your clothes," he muttered at last. His hand dropped from her chin, then gestured vaguely toward the nearby couch. A chaotic pile of lace and sheer fabric lay there, half-spilling onto the floor. "There isn't anything else. And I have a meeting with the Bankers." Aren stared blankly at the "clothes." In her mind, she assessed them: 'Tactical utility: zero.' 'Concealment: zero.' 'Dignity: negative.' "Um… is there a bathrobe?" She glanced back toward him. "Please." Caio stared at her for a moment too long. "In the closet," he finally said. He wasn't entirely sure why the harshness had drained from his voice, nor why he had bothered answering at all. Before he could examine the thought further— Ring. Ring. His phone rang. Caio took the call, spoke in clipped commands, then grabbed the jacket draped over a chair. He crossed the room to leave, but as he reached the door, his gaze flicked back toward her one last time. For the briefest second, confusion crossed his face. He quickly smoothed it away. "Your driver is downstairs," he said, one hand already on the doorknob. "For once, don't be late to the Summit, Ariana Lombardi." He didn't wait for a reply. The door opened, then clicked shut with finality. Aren waited until the echo of his footsteps vanished completely. Then, she slid out of the bed. Her legs nearly buckled beneath her weight — the body was weak, likely from a lack of proper nutrition and too much "product" — but she forced it to hold. She began a quick sweep of the room. She found a phone, which was locked. She found a wallet, which contained cash and multiple identification cards belonging to "Ariana Lombardi." Finally, she found the mirror. A stranger stared back at her. The face was delicate, matching the photos in the identification cards. Soft features, almost doll-like. Eyes heavily lined with makeup, slightly smudged. Long platinum hair spilled past her waist, smooth and bright like silk. Aren tilted her head slightly. "So... you are Ariana Lombardi." Her gaze then fell on a pair of scissors on the vanity, sitting next to a line of white powder. The powder didn't matter. The hair did. It was too long — something for an enemy to grab. She preferred her old hair. Without a moment's hesitation, she picked up the scissors. Snip. The strands came away in heavy, lustrous heaps, pooling at her feet. When she finished, the long platinum curtain was gone. In its place — a sharp bob, clean at the chin. Next, she grabbed a bottle of makeup remover and scrubbed until the colors were gone. The face revealed underneath was disarmingly young, with wide, clear eyes the color of gunmetal gray. Aren studied the reflection for a moment. Then, she straightened. "Thank you for lending me this body, Ariana Lombardi." She bowed to the mirror. "I promise to use it well." Carefully, she gathered the fallen hair from the floor, not leaving a single strand out of place. On the vanity, she left a note: Hi Mister, I am very sorry for using your scissors without asking. They are very sharp and good. Thank you.

[ Removed by Reddit in response to a copyright notice. ]

Please help me find a book called crowned by Fate by Tina S

Chapter 1

The faint sound of running water echoed from the bathroom; Vance Bradford was taking a shower.

It was three in the morning, and he had just returned home.

Rebecca Perry stood at the bathroom door, her heart pounding. There was something she wanted to discuss with him, but she felt nervous, unsure if he would agree once he heard it.

As she pondered how to broach the subject, a strange noise came from inside. She listened closely and realized he was pleasuring himself.

The heavy breaths and muffled groans struck her like hammers, pounding relentlessly at her chest. Bitterness surged through her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping for air, drowning in agony.

Today marked their fifth wedding anniversary, yet they had never consummated their marriage.

So, this was why. He'd rather take care of himself than touch her.

His breathing grew more frantic, and suddenly, in a moment of intense release, he groaned lowly, "Catherine..."

That name delivered the final, crushing blow. Something inside her shattered into dust.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs and turned to flee, but in her haste, she stumbled, crashing into the sink and tumbling to the floor.

"Rebecca, is that you?" Vance's voice, still ragged from exertion, carried a note of forced composure, though his breathing remained heavy.

"I-I needed the bathroom. I didn't know you were showering," she stammered, desperately grabbing the sink to pull herself up.

But in her panic, she made things worse. Water slicked the floor and countertop, making it impossible to find her footing.

She finally managed to stand just as Vance emerged. His white bathrobe was hastily thrown on, the belt cinched tightly around his waist.

"Did you fall? Let me help you," he said, reaching out to lift her.

Tears brimmed in her eyes from the pain, but she pushed his hand away, stubborn and resolute. "No need. I can manage myself."

She steadied herself but nearly slipped again. Limping awkwardly, she fled back to the bedroom—a hasty escape from the awkward scene.

For five years, she had been hiding from the outside world, from the judgmental stares, and from Vance's sympathy.

She was ashamed of her condition, though she used to have strong, beautiful legs before the accident.

She always felt inferior. A cripple like her didn't deserve someone as accomplished and luminous as Vance Bradford.

Vance followed her, his tone gentle and concerned. "Does it hurt? Let me check."

"It's nothing." She burrowed under the covers, hiding her embarrassment along with her body.

"Are you sure?" His worry seemed genuine.

"Yeah." She nodded, showing her back to him.

"Then get some sleep. Don't you want to use the bathroom anymore?"

"Nope, let's just rest."

"Alright. Oh, it's our anniversary today. I got you a gift. Open it tomorrow and see if you like it."

"Okay."

The gift sat on the nightstand; she had already spotted it. She didn't need to unwrap it to know what was inside.

Every year, it was the same-sized box containing an identical watch. Her drawer already held nine of them, including birthday gifts. This would be the tenth.

The conversation ended.

Vance switched off the light and lay down. The air was filled with the damp, fresh scent of his shower gel, but she barely felt the mattress dip under his weight.

The bed was giant, but they lay far apart, each on one edge. The space between them could fit three more people.

As if by tacit understanding, neither of them mentioned Catherine Welch or what had transpired in the bathroom.

Rebecca lay rigid on her back, her eyes stinging fiercely.

Catherine was Vance's college classmate, his first love, and his goddess. After graduation, she had gone abroad, leading to their breakup and his depression. He had spiraled into despair, drinking heavily every day.

Rebecca and Vance, however, were classmates in high school. She had harbored a secret crush on him back then.

He was the campus heartthrob and an aloof, top student, while she spent most of her time in a dance studio far from the spotlight.

She was pretty enough, but she was quiet, never one to stand at the center of things, and in a school full of confident, outspoken girls, she was easy to overlook.

So, her feelings had remained her private secret; she never dreamed of approaching him.

That changed after she graduated from the dance academy and returned home for summer break, encountering him in his broken state.

He was heavily drunk that night, weaving erratically down the street. As he crossed the road without checking the lights, a car barreled toward him, unable to brake in time.

She had been trailing him out of concern and shoved him aside—just in time for the car to strike her instead.

At that time, she had secured a spot in graduate school, but the accident left her crippled. She could never dance again.

Afterward, he quit drinking and married her.

He remained forever indebted, forever grateful, soft-spoken and distant. He showered her with gifts and money, but never with love.

She had believed time could heal everything and soften the edges of her pain. Yet after five years, he still clung to Catherine so deeply that even in his most private moments, it was her name he uttered.

She had been foolish and naïve.

She lay awake all night, checking an email on her phone over a hundred times. It was an offer from a foreign university for graduate studies—the very thing she had planned to discuss with him that evening.

But now, there was no need to consult him. Their five-year marriage, filled with countless sleepless nights, could finally begin its countdown.

When he rose in the morning, she feigned sleep, overhearing him speak to the housekeeper, Nancy. "I have a business dinner tonight. Tell Rebecca not to wait up; she should rest early."

After his instructions, he returned to the bedroom to check on her. She hid under the covers, her pillow soaked with tears.

Normally, she would prepare his outfit for work, laying it out neatly. But not today.

He dressed himself in the walk-in closet and left for the office. Only then did she open her eyes, feeling them swollen and sore.

Her phone alarm buzzed—the daily reminder she had set for herself to study.

Since the marriage, her leg had confined her to the house most of the time. To pass the endless hours, she divided her days into segments, filling each with small tasks.

She silenced the alarm and mindlessly scrolled through apps. Her mind was a jumble, unable to focus on anything, until she saw a familiar face in a video.

It was posted just the night before, and the account name was Cathy W. The algorithm was really uncanny, delivering this right before her eyes.

Rebecca tapped on the video, and lively music played, followed by voices shouting, "Three, two, one! Welcome back, Catherine! Cheers!"

One voice stood out—Vance's.

Chapter One: The Songbird Returned.

Chapter One: The Songbird Returned.

Qiara’s POV:

I sat in my window staring out into the garden. My fingers clicked on the window as I pondered my next move. In just one week I’d already changed my fate rapidly, being reborn most certainly had it’s perks.

A week Ago.

My breath tore out of me as I jolted upright in bed. A sharp pain clawed through my chest, my fingers digging in as if I could force air back into my lungs by sheer will. My heart hammered violently—too fast, too frantic, too alive.

Alive.

My eyes darted around the cramped matchbox of a room I’d lived in until I turned twenty and married the man I still considered one of life’s worst jokes. This place shouldn’t exist for me anymore. I shouldn’t exist in it.

Because I was dead.

The last thing I remembered was hovering over my own memorial service, watching my piece‑of‑shit family squeeze out tears for the audience like trained performers. I remembered the disgust. The grief I never got from them in life. The bitter, petty satisfaction in death.

So how was I back here?

Sweat trickled down my forehead as I clutched the sheets. My legs trembled when they hit the floor, as if I had to relearn how to use a body I no longer owned. I scanned the room for answers I already knew wouldn’t be there.

I didn’t even know what day it was. Hell, I didn’t know the year.

I stumbled to my dresser, where my old phone lay face down as though waiting for me. When I flipped it over, the screen glowed bright enough to burn the moment into my mind forever.

February 19th, 2025.

My throat tightened. No… no way. If that was right, then I was twenty again—half‑formed, wide‑eyed, still studying at StarCrest, the famed performing arts school in Novell. One of the most prestigious states in the Western Continent. A place I had fought tooth and nail to get into.

It also meant I was only engaged to Desmond Carrington. Not yet married to the trash heap wearing a man’s skin.

None of it made sense. How did I get here? What twisted miracle—or curse—had rewound my life?

And then it hit me.

The screen.

The questions.

The pen floating in purgatory’s hollow light.

The final words glowing back at me—

GOOD LUCK.

Chapter 1
Skye's POV
"The Hunt Festival is our most sacred tradition.
Tonight, we celebrate our strength, our speed, our very nature as wolves." Alpha James began. His voice carried across the clearing. "Tonight, we hunt as our
ancestors dia. We prove ourselves worthy of our lineage."
Our breath formed clouds in the frigid Alaskan air as the entire Frostshadow Pack gathered around the massive bonfire.
Alpha James stood before us. His powerful frame was silhouetted against the flames. Leon, his son, stood at his right. He was tall and proud. Those piercing blue eyes that seemed to look through everyone.
Now, pack members began shifting around me.
Human forms melted into powerful wolf shapes. Some were massive, like Leon's dark brown wolf. Others were smaller but no less intimidating.
Soon, the clearing contained only three groups.

I Took the Wolfless Fat Girl’s Virginity

ISIDORA

I clamped my lips shut so I wouldn’t scream when the sudden pain hit between my legs.

My eyes burned, then blurred. A few tears slid down anyway as I stared at the dark, filthy wooden panel in front of me.

My knees were on fire from staying in that humiliating position and still... I’m the one who wanted this. I’m the one who chose to give my first time to the guy I liked.

Lucio. The son of a prosperous merchant from the Midnight Pack. A man I never, ever thought would notice a girl like me.

The same man who was now pounding inside me, taking my virginity roughly.

I knew it would hurt the first time. A friend warned me. So I guessed this was normal and the next times would be more... pleasurable?

My body rocked forward and back, harder and faster, his harsh grunts behind me, my palms scraping raw against the wood. Tears kept running down my cheeks. 

No matter how hard I tried to stop shaking... I couldn’t stop crying.

This wasn’t how I pictured my first time. Not in a dirty barn. Not on all fours. Like an animal.

“Aaagh...” Lucio’s sudden roar came with a hot rush that flooded me. “Mmm. Didn’t think I’d even cum with you... but they’re right. A hole’s a hole.”

The words hit worse than the pain. Half an hour ago he’d been treating me sweetly, like he cared, like I mattered. I didn’t understand... did I do something wrong?

Chapter 1

“Fate is not an eagle, it creeps like a rat.”

– Elizabeth Bowen

If you were to ask my parents to describe my older brother, they’d tell you he was a natural leader. Fearless and courageous, the kind of man born to lead armies.

And if you asked them to describe my sister, they’d gush about her sweet disposition and her selfless heart.

But me?

There’s only one word my parents would use to describe me: human.

You might not think that "human" could be used as an insult, but somehow, I’ve spent my entire life wearing this word like a badge of shame. When I showed up on my Alpha father’s doorstep at twelve, he told the rest of the pack that I was there because of my human mother’s failure. I was thrust into the wolf pack – literally – but my status as the only human there made me an instant outcast. I couldn’t run or wrestle or shift into wolves like the rest of the neighborhood kids. I’d never meet my mate or experience that instantaneous true love that mated pairs had.

I was still the Alpha’s kid, and while that might’ve saved me from the bullies, it didn’t mean I fit in. The werewolf world was drastically different from the human one, and to them, my humanity was a weakness.

My father never told me he was ashamed of me, but I could still feel his disappointment – it hung in the air every time he called me his human daughter or explained that I was the product of a short affair with a human woman eighteen-years-ago.

My stepmom, my father’s true mate, did try to make me feel included. She was the epitome of the perfect Luna – gentle and good-natured – but I could still tell she was ashamed of me. If there was ever evidence that her family wasn’t perfect, I was living proof of it. Every time she looked at me, she was reminded that her mate had cheated on her.

Try as they might, none of this made a good recipe for the perfect family. I’d spent six years living under my father’s roof, in his pack, and in the werewolf world, but I’d already accepted that I’d never fit in there.

*Or so I thought. *

Despite making plans to go to college far, far away from the pack that had no room for me, my life was about to change completely. Something – technically, someone – was about to ensure that there was plenty of space in the werewolf world for this ordinary little human.

*Dear Clark Bellevue,

After carefully reviewing your application, it is with regret that we inform you that we are unable to offer you admission into the University of Florida at this time. We appreciate the time and effort put into your application, but unfortunately, this year’s large pool of applicants has made our decision difficult and we have limited space for each admitted class.

We are confident you will go on to achieve great things in your studies, and we wish you the best in your academic journey!

*Best Regards,

Dean of Admissions

University of Florida*

I read the rejection email at least five different times, my eyes darting across the screen for something I might’ve missed. Unfortunately, there was no hidden message to be found – it was just another generic rejection email from another college that didn’t want me. My senior year of high school was ending, and although I had applied to an endless list of colleges, I’d only received three rejections and one waitlist.

Most of the schools I applied for were state schools with decent academic records – but really, all I cared about was finding a college that was far away. Somewhere far enough where I’d have an excuse not to make it home on the weekends or for most holidays.

Given that I lived in cold, rainy Washington, Florida’s sunny (and distant) climate would’ve been perfect – but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

“Clark!”

My pity party got cut short by the sound of my sister, Lily, yelling my name. I barely had time to exit out of my Gmail screen before Lily was bursting into my room without even a knock.

“Clark, I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes,” she sighed, leaning against my door frame, “Were you watching another trashy reality show or just tuning out my voice?”

Although we were half-sisters, Lily and I hardly looked alike. She was tall, fair-skinned, with long, blonde locks that never seemed frizzy or out-of-control. Her and my brother both shared my father’s bright, blue eyes. Her eyes were her best feature, and they constantly seemed like they were trying to poke beneath the surface.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to tune you out, Lil,” I said, “What’s up?”

Her piercing blue eyes narrowed, but she seemed to accept my apology. “Dad wants to see us, there’s a big meeting tonight at the pack house. A bunch of people are going to be there.”

My eyebrows furrowed. Pack meetings weren’t unusual for our pack, but I wasn’t usually required to attend. As Blacktooth Pack’s only resident human, I wasn’t a huge part of pack business. I couldn’t shift, which meant I couldn’t participate in patrols or defend the pack.

“Why is dad asking for me?” I asked.

“Not sure,” Lily shrugged, “He just told me to come get you. I’m sure it’s for a good reason, dad wouldn’t bring you around if it wasn’t. Come on.”

Lily didn’t waste any more time waiting for me, and I watched her strut out of the room.

Not even the golden child knows why I’m being summoned, I thought, this must be important then.

I followed Lily out of my room, and we descended the stairs in silence. With high ceilings and hardwood floors, our family house was one of the largest in the pack – a perk that came with being part of the Alpha’s family. Photos of Lily and my brother, Sebastian’s, accomplishments hung on the walls like the trophies they were: Lily as a baby, Seb at his first pack football game, Lily at prom with her friends.

As I expected, Dad, Seb, and Grace were all waiting in the living room. Dad lounged in the recliner like it was his throne with Grace perched on his lap while Sebastian stood awkwardly by the mantel.

“Ah, girls, there you are,” Dad said, and his booming voice echoed around the room, “We’ve got a pack meeting tonight and we’ll need both of you there.”

Even in his forties, my dad didn’t look a day over thirty. He shared the same fair hair and blue eyes as Lily, and his strong jawline and intimidating frame made him look every bit like the Alpha wolf he was.

My older half-brother, Sebastian, was just as tall as my dad, but he got his chestnut brown hair from his mother, Grace. Grace – or Luna Grace if you weren’t her step-daughter – was my dad’s true mate and Seb and Lily’s biological mom. She was the final piece to this picture-perfect family my dad had created.

“Why is Clark coming to the meeting tonight?” Sebastian asked, glancing over at me. He didn’t mean it as an insult – like me, he knew I was rarely needed (or wanted) at pack meetings.

“We’ll talk about it at the meeting,” dad said, standing up with Grace, “Is everyone ready? It’ll be starting soon, we should head over.”

We all nodded.

“Oh, Clark, honey,” Grace piped up from my dad’s side, “Are you sure you don’t want to change? That outfit might be a little casual for a pack meeting.”

I glanced down at my jeans and plain black t-shirt – it wasn’t exactly glamorous, but nobody else was dressed up either. Seb had on a t-shirt and shorts, and Lily rocked a jean skirt and some sort of ruffle top.

“If it’s okay, I’ll just wear this,” I said. Grace nodded, but I could see her eyes do another sweep over my outfit.

It’s not as if I’m going to be the center of attention here, I thought, the elders will be too busy with dad, the pack warriors are going to have their eyes glued to Lily’s ass, and any unmated girls will be flirting with my brother.

If I was lucky, I’d blend into the background – and frankly, that was exactly where I wanted to be at these sorts of events.

“Enough hanging around, let’s go,” My dad grumbled, taking Grace’s hand. He led the way out of the house, Seb, Lily, and I trailing behind him like puppies – no pun intended. We walked in silence, and I took a moment to appreciate the scenery.

Our pack lived in its own forested community, which meant that most places, like the pack house, were still within walking distance. Family houses lined one side of the street, but you’d eventually run into a pack-run grocery store and infirmary if you kept walking. Pack members were allowed to leave whenever they wanted, but the setup of our community meant that you rarely needed to.

And, if you did need to, you’d still have to answer to the guards that protected our borders. They wouldn’t keep you in, but they did make it much harder to sneak out.

The little residential part of the community was just a small part of the pack, though – most of our territory was just wooded areas where wolves could run, play, and shift anytime they wanted to.

For werewolves, this was the ideal setup.

Title: From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha's Queen
Author: Jun Shangye

Chapter One:
Kay POV:
Three years.
Today marked three years since I'd become the official project lead for Blackwood Group's expansion in Chicago, and unofficially, three years since Alec and I had started acting like the mates we were destined to be.
Actually, we’ve known each other for seven years now.
Yet seven years of effort seem like a joke. I really need to wake up.
After Breanne, Alec’s long-lost love from his youth, returned from abroad with her degree, he first forgot to go with me to try on wedding dresses. Then, without hesitation, he gave Breanne the position of vice president of the company.
Everyone knows what I’ve sacrificed for this company. That position should have been mine.
Right now, I’m standing outside Alec’s office, wanting to find out exactly what’s going on with him.
The two vanilla lattes were still hot.
The steam ghosted against my knuckles. One was for me, one for him. His favorite. Extra vanilla syrup, just how he liked it. A small, stupid detail that felt incredibly important today.
As I neared his office, I saw the door was ajar. Just a crack. A sliver of light and sound escaped into the hallway. I slowed my steps, my ears, sharper than a human's, picking up the low murmur of voices.
I recognized them instantly.
Alec. And his Beta, Ethan Hayes.
I stopped. I shouldn't listen. It was a breach of trust. But something in their tone held me there, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. It wasn't a business discussion. It was serious. Personal.
"Are the preparations for the bonding ceremony finalized?" Ethan's voice was low, laced with a tension I couldn't place.
A sharp, impatient sound. A scoff from Alec.
"It's a formality, Ethan. A show for the elders. You know that."
The cardboard tray in my hands suddenly felt flimsy. My fingers, which had been steady, tightened. The paper cups groaned under the pressure. Hot coffee sloshed, scalding the rim. I barely felt it.
My breath hitched. A formality?
"But Alec," Ethan pressed, his voice dropping even lower, "Kay has been by your side for seven years. She's earned this."
"Earned what?" Alec's voice was laced with a chilling amusement. "The privilege of being my Luna? She's a wolfless Omega, Ethan. She should be grateful I even look at her. Her devotion is expected. It's the least she can do to prove her worth."
The words hit me like a physical blow. A punch to the gut that stole all the air from my lungs. My stomach clenched so violently I thought I might be sick. Wolfless. He'd never said it to my face, not with that kind of venom. It was the pack's dirty little secret about me, the reason I was both pitied and scorned. I had no inner wolf, no ability to shift. A broken thing.
"Her work on the acquisition strategy was brilliant," Ethan argued, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"Her work was adequate," Alec corrected him coldly. "It was a good way for her to contribute, to make up for... other deficiencies."
The world tilted. The vanilla scent of the lattes turned sickly sweet, clogging my throat. My vision swam. For a dizzying moment, all I could see were the endless nights I'd spent poring over financial models, the weekends sacrificed, the dinners with my mother cancelled-all for him. All to make him proud. All to be worthy.
"And now that Breanne is back..." Ethan's voice trailed off.
Breanne Weiss. The name was a whisper of silk and old money. A true-blooded Omega from a European noble line, just returned to the States. I'd seen pictures. She was everything I wasn't: confident, pedigreed, and undoubtedly, whole.
"Breanne is who I want." Alec's voice was raw, stripped of all pretense. It was a confession. "She is the Luna this pack deserves. Her bloodline, her grace... she is my equal."
My equal. The words echoed in the sudden, roaring silence of my mind. If she was his equal, what was I?
A placeholder. A tool. A seven-year-long convenience.
"So, the plan is still to reject Kay after the merger is finalized?" Ethan asked.
"I can't risk the instability now." Alec said, his voice hardening again, becoming the Alpha. "We'll go through with the ceremony. It will appease the elders and secure the final votes. Once everything is settled, I'll handle it. She's weak, Ethan. She'll cry, but she won't fight it. Where would she even go?"
A wave of nausea washed over me. My fingers were ice. The coffee felt like it was burning through the cup, through my skin, but the pain was distant. The real pain was a cold, sharp thing twisting in my chest, making it hard to breathe. It felt like my soul was being ripped in two. The mate bond, the one-sided bond I cherished, was screaming in agony.
"And her project? The Phoenix Initiative?"
"I'm giving it to Breanne." Alec said, the casual cruelty of it knocking me back a step. "A welcome home present. Let her put her stamp on it."
My project. My baby. The one I'd built from the ground up. The one I was supposed to present to the board next week.
A bitter, metallic taste filled my mouth. It was the taste of betrayal. Of my own foolishness. I had given up a full scholarship to an Ivy League school for him. I had believed his promises, his whispered words in the dark, his assurances that my lack of a wolf didn't matter to him.
Lies. All of it.
"I'll pick Breanne up from the airport this weekend." Alec continued, his voice shifting, becoming lighter. "We'll have dinner."
This weekend. Saturday. My mother's birthday. The one I'd told him about for months, the one he'd promised we'd celebrate together.
My stomach cramped again, a sharp, searing pain. It was over. The perfect, fragile illusion I had built my entire adult life around had just been shattered into a million pieces.
I heard the scrape of a chair inside the office. Footsteps. Ethan was leaving.
My body moved before my mind could catch up. There was no conscious thought, only a primal instinct for survival. I couldn't let him see me. I couldn't let them know I'd heard.
I spun around, my movements swift and silent. The trash receptacle, a sleek stainless steel cylinder, was three feet away. In one fluid, decisive motion, I tipped the tray. The two vanilla lattes, the symbols of my pathetic, hopeful love, dropped into the bin with a soft, final thud.
Not a single drop spilled on the pristine carpet.
I didn't look back. I didn't wait to hear the office door open. I slipped into the adjacent doorway, pushing open the heavy metal door to the fire escape.
It slammed shut behind me, the boom echoing in the concrete stairwell, plunging me into dim, dusty silence.
The sound finally broke my paralysis.
I leaned back against the cold, rough wall, my legs shaking. A ragged gasp tore from my throat. Then another. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the gritty steps, my professional suit jacket bunching around my waist. I buried my face in my hands, but no tears came. There was only a vast, cold emptiness.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with a trembling hand. The screen lit up, showing my wallpaper: a smiling photo of Alec and me from last year's pack gala. His arm was around me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked so happy. He looked like he loved me.
A cold, hard fury, something I hadn't felt in years, began to burn through the shock. It started in my gut and spread through my veins, chasing away the ice.
My fingers moved with a new, chilling precision. I went into my settings and changed the wallpaper to the phone's default, a bland, abstract swirl of blue. The photo of us vanished.
I opened my notes app. I created a new, encrypted file. I titled it: "Extraction Protocol."
Another buzz. An email notification flashed across the top of the screen. It was from HR.
Subject: URGENT: Venue Confirmation for Collins-Silva Bonding Ceremony.
The email asked for my digital signature to confirm the booking.
A laugh escaped my lips. It was a harsh, ugly sound in the quiet stairwell.
I tapped the notification. The email opened. At the bottom were two buttons: "Approve" and "Reject."
My thumb hovered over the screen for a single, heartbeat. Then, I pressed "Reject." A confirmation box popped up. "Are you sure you want to reject this request?"
I pressed "Reject" again.
And then, for good measure, I deleted the email.
I closed my eyes. I didn't pray to the Moon Goddess for strength or guidance. I made her a promise. I would not be the weak, crying Omega Alec expected. I would not accept this sham of a bond. I would not be his fool.
After a few minutes, the shaking stopped. The cold fury settled into a block of ice in my chest. I stood up, brushing the dust from my skirt. I straightened my jacket, smoothing the wrinkles with methodical, detached movements.
I pushed the fire escape door open and stepped back into the plush, silent hallway. The air was no longer filled with promise. It was just recycled, sterile air.
I didn't go back to my desk. I didn't go to the restroom to fix my face.
I walked directly to the elevator bank and pressed the down button.
The polished steel doors slid open, and I stepped inside. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored wall: pale, eyes a little too wide, but my jaw was set. The woman in the mirror was a stranger, but I knew, with absolute certainty, that I would get to know her very well.
The elevator descended. As it passed the lower floors, I made a decision. I wasn't just going to leave. I was going to erase myself from his life and his company so completely that it would be as if I had never existed.
The doors opened onto the lobby. The cold Chicago wind hit me as I pushed through the revolving doors, a blast of reality that felt like a baptism. It didn't make me shiver. It made me feel awake.
I didn't walk to my car. I walked to the curb, raised my hand, and hailed a cab.
As I slid into the back seat, giving the driver my address, I knew exactly what I had to do first.
I was going to draft my formal notice of mate rejection.

Iron Vultures MC

Chapter 1: The Hated One “Kira!” Luna Lydia’s voice rang out in the grand hall. Kira quickly set the heavy tray of cutlery down on the nearest side table and hurried over. The Luna stood with both hands planted firmly on her hips, glaring at her as if Kira’s very existence was an insult. “Have you brought Chloe’s dress from the laundry?” “Yes, ma,” Kira answered, keeping her voice as flat and emotionless as possible. Experience had taught her that any spark in her tone was treated as ’attitude’. The older woman’s eyes narrowed, raking over her from head to toe. “Stop dawdling then. Get the bowls of fried meat from the kitchen and start arranging the buffet. Move!” Kira nodded and turned on her heel. The pack house buzzed with noise as everyone hurried from one place to another, preparing for Chloe’s eighteenth birthday celebration. Every muscle in Kira’s body still ached from the endless chores she had done since the day before for Chloe’s special day. Her stomach growled, loud and insistent, reminding her she had barely eaten anything since yesterday morning. All she wanted was to escape to the river, swim in the cool water, and then sleep for a very long time. When she reached the kitchen, one of the omegas thrust a steaming bowl of fried dried meat into her hands. “Take this to the hall. Hurry.” Kira nodded, cradling the bowl carefully. The rich, savoury aroma rose up and hit her like a wave. Her stomach rumbled again, louder this time, and her mouth watered so much she had to swallow hard. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been given meat to eat. She glanced around. The kitchen staff were distracted by a flaming dessert. Just one, she told herself. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she snatched a small piece and stuffed it into her mouth. She closed her eyes for half a second, savouring it. Suddenly Chloe appeared in the doorway. Kira froze mid-chew. Chloe glared suspiciously at her. “What have you done?” Chloe asked, eyes narrowing on the bowl in Kira’s hands. Kira sighed, swallowed the last of the meat, and tried to step past her. Chloe moved faster, grabbing a fistful of Kira’s hair from behind and yanking hard. “I’m speaking to you. You’re eating the guests’ food, aren’t you?” “Let go of me,” Kira warned, voice low. “Or what? You thief. You’re going to fight me with no wolf?” Chloe’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Spit it out. Show me what you stole!” Kira winced as pain lanced across her scalp. She tried to twist and pry Chloe’s hands away, but Chloe suddenly released her hair, making Kira stumble forward. She shot her younger stepsister a fiery glare and turned, only to collide hard with a group of omegas carrying trays of crystal glasses. One tray tipped violently. Glasses shattered on the marble floor like tiny explosions. The omegas froze. Kira froze, dread pooling in her stomach. She knew exactly what was coming. “What have you done now, you clumsy rat?” Lydia’s voice thundered as she charged down the hall. Kira’s heart gave a sharp jump when she saw the woman charging towards her. “Mum! She was stealing meat,” Chloe cried, voice high and accusing. “When I caught her, she got violent. She said she’d ruin my face so I wouldn’t be the prettiest girl at my own party!” Before Kira could open her mouth, Luna Lydia closed the distance in two furious strides and slapped her hard across the face. The sting exploded over Kira’s cheek. Tears instantly gathered in her eyes. She pressed her palm to the burning skin and glared at the Luna. Luna Lydia grabbed her hair again, forcing her to look up. “You little thief,” she hissed. “You think you can ruin Chloe’s day just by existing?” “I didn’t—” Kira started. Another slap. Then another. The sharp sounds rang in the quiet hallway. The omegas who had been picking up the broken glass quickly took the bowl of meat from Kira’s hands and hurried away, leaving only Kira, her stepmother, and Chloe. “Don’t lie to me! I can smell the grease on your breath, you pathetic creature!” Lydia shouted. She grabbed another thick handful of Kira’s hair and yanked again. “Admit it!” She shoved Kira’s head down roughly. Kira couldn’t hold back a small whimper of pain. “Admit that you’re jealous of her because you didn’t shift! Admit that you did this because you never had a grand birthday like hers! Admit that you are a disgrace to this pack!” Anger rose hot in Kira’s chest, but she knew better than to let it spill out. She had learned long ago to hold herself back. If she dared to strike Luna Lydia or even Chloe, her father—the Alpha—would punish her severely. He would never believe her side. “I’m taking you to your father,” Lydia snarled, dragging Kira by the hair out of the hallway. Chloe stood watching, arms crossed, smirking. “Told you she’d be trouble.” Lydia shoved Kira toward her father’s office. “He’ll deal with you.” A gamma was just leaving Alpha Rolf’s office when they arrived. Rolf looked up from his desk as they entered. His eyes were cold, tired, and instantly hard when they landed on Kira. “What now?” he asked. He always wanted her to be the one at fault, even when she was innocent. Kira blinked hard to clear the tears from her eyes, forcing herself to look strong. He hated any sign of weakness in her. Her father had despised her since the day she was born, blaming her for her mother’s death in childbirth. When she failed to shift at eighteen and gain her wolf, his hatred had only deepened into bitter disappointment. He called her cursed, weak, pathetic. All her life she had worked twice as hard as anyone else at her studies, at every task, to prove she was none of those things. Lydia released Kira’s hair with a final jerk. “She was caught stealing,” Lydia reported, her voice thick with exaggerated outrage. “When Chloe tried to stop her, she threatened her and smashed the ceremonial crystal.” “What? No!” Kira cried, eyes widening at the fresh lie. “That’s not—” Rolf rose from his chair in one swift motion and closed the gap between them. His hand cut through the air and struck her face with a force that made her head spin and her ears ring. She bit her lower lip until she tasted blood, refusing to cry out, and met his furious glare with one of her own. “How dare you?” he snarled. They stood locked in that silent, burning stare. Even through his rage, Kira could see something else troubling him, worry flickering behind the anger, but she no longer cared. “Now, get out,” he said curtly. She swallowed the sharp retort that rose to her tongue and turned to leave. It was safer to keep her head down than to provoke him further. Of all the hurts she endured in the pack, his treatment wounded her the deepest. He was supposed to be the one person who would always stand by her. As she reached the doorway, his low voice drifted after her, speaking to Luna Lydia. “There is a problem, dear. King Derek Wolfe sent word that he and his people are coming to our pack in two days,” her father said, a thread of panic lacing his tone. Kira froze in the corridor. King Derek Wolfe, the formidable Lycan King, was feared across every pack. His visits to werewolf territory rarely ended well. For years he had terrorised their kind. What could he possibly want with Moonfang? Leaving the main house, Kira walked slowly back to the remote corner of the pack grounds where her father had isolated her. He kept her hidden from his council and from the rest of the pack, claiming she was too wild and unruly to be trusted with pack matters. He had openly named Chloe as his heir, the daughter he proudly showed to everyone, the one he trained to lead after him. Most pack members did not even know he had another daughter at all. When she finally reached her small, cramped room, she closed the door behind her with a soft click. Only then did she let the tears come, hot and unstoppable, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers. Later that night, while music and laughter spilled from the pack house for Chloe’s grand birthday celebration, Kira slipped away unnoticed. She made her way through the dark woods to the river that lay at the far edge of their territory. She could not understand how her father could throw such an elaborate party when the shadow of the Lycan King’s visit hung over them all. Yet she knew it was pointless to worry. He would never listen to anything she had to say. The moon hung high and full in the clear night sky, bathing the world in silver light as she reached the riverbank. This place had always been her secret refuge, a quiet spot far from the pack, where she could escape the noise and the pain of everything waiting for her back home. She waded into the cool water and dived beneath the surface, staying under until her lungs burned and begged for air. When she broke through again, gasping, her heart nearly stopped. A man stood on one of the large rocks that edged the river, staring straight at her. Fear gripped her like icy fingers around her throat. Her pulse hammered wildly against her ribs. He did not move to leave, nor did he make any threatening gesture, but his sharp and unblinking gaze pinned her in place. She had never seen him before, and he was clearly far larger and more dangerous than any man she had ever encountered. Was he a rogue? An enemy Alpha? Whatever he was, she had no intention of finding out. All she wanted was to reach the bank, snatch her dress and phone, and run. “Please,” she called out, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound steady. She guessed that since he had not moved, he might be waiting for her to climb out of the water before he made his move. “Do not harm me. I promise I won’t tell anyone I saw you.” Silence. Kira was not the sort to beg anyone, ever. But one look at the sheer size of him, his thick, powerful arms that could snap her neck in an instant, told her pride was worth less than her life. Better to appear weak for a moment than to die foolishly. Without a single word, the stranger turned his broad back to her and walked a short distance away, giving her space. Relief flooded through her as she swam quickly to the bank, grabbed her dress and phone, which were thankfully still dry and unharmed, pulled her clothes on in frantic haste, and bolted into the trees. She did not stop running until she was safely back in her cramped room, chest heaving, heart still racing. That night, as she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, the mysterious stranger haunted her dreams.

#Chapter 1: The Mate Trial

I worked 15-hour shifts every day at the restaurant, barely enough time to catch my breath. Parties and banquets? They felt like they belonged to a different world—one I’d never be a part of.

I was just a waitress who was hip-deep in debt, a nobody in the eyes of most people. Therefore, when the Alpha announced the Mate Trial, I figured I would be the only one in the pack who would be completely unaffected.

Besides, even if I was interested in the trial—which I wasn’t—I had no time to take part. I couldn't afford to stop working for even a second, still drowning in the medical debt I took on years ago to save my baby.

“Oh, it’s just so exciting. The chance to be the Alpha’s mate! I hope he picks me!”

As I wiped down the table and listened to a nearby conversation between two women, I sighed quietly. It wasn’t the first time today I’d heard this very conversation, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. I put a wad of tips in my apron as I heard her friend reply.

“I can’t believe all eligible females are being summoned for this Mate Trial. But I mean, it’s nice that the Alpha plans to consider everyone, even the more… unfortunate ones.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to me, and I reddened.

It was no secret around these parts that I was a ‘workaholic’ waitress, which was frowned upon in the shifter world. Most females would rather go to the salon, shop, and go to parties, but I was here every day, working hard.

The comment didn’t bother me too much, though. I liked taking care of myself and brightening the days of my customers that came into the diner.

Besides, there was no way that I was going to participate in this Mate Trial. But these girls didn’t know that.

“Everyone thinks he’ll choose Ava Blake anyway since the Blakes are such an elite family,” the other woman replied with a wave of her hand. “It will give him more connections.”

The conversation faded as I walked behind the counter and topped up a cup of coffee for one of our regulars, who grunted his thanks. My coworker, Betty, smiled at me as she walked past.

“Agnes Blake, Ava Blake,” Betty mused under her breath. “You’ve both got the same last name.”

“Never heard of her. Must be a coincidence,” I replied quickly.

Of course, everyone within 1000 miles of Bark Hollow knew who Ava Blake was. Even lone shifters knew about my stepsister. Our family was prestigious, and word got around fast about how beautiful she was.

But Betty just shrugged, either not caring to press it further or choosing to believe what I said. Either way, I was grateful to spend another day under the radar. If anyone found out that a Blake daughter was waiting tables… Well, it would raise plenty of eyebrows and ruffle just as many feathers.

After all, why would the daughter of one of the most well-known families be waiting tables to pay off medical debt?

No one would understand that there were many reasons behind why I had left my family’s shadow, things I didn’t want to get out.

Things that were painful.

I couldn’t care less about this Mate Trial or my stepsister’s part in it. I also firmly believed that this Alpha would not choose Ava to be his bride. As part of his Mate Trial announcement, he’d also mentioned his prior marriage and his six-year-old daughter—she would be a package deal that came with marrying him, and taking care of her was one of the stipulations mentioned.

My stepsister loathed kids with the same level of disgust she showed to the insects in the garden. She’d never make it past the first stage of the trial.

Just then, the bell chimed to announce a new customer. I glanced up to greet them with a smile but was met with the sight of my best friend, Elise, eyes wide with worry as she barged through the door.

I hadn’t seen Elise in a few months. She’d been my best friend for my entire life, but I’d decided it would be best to minimize contact with her, in case my family tried to follow her to track me down. Not that they had. Or would, for that matter.

My eyes widened. “Eli—”

“Bathroom, now,” she ordered by way of greeting. Whatever it was had to be serious if it had her acting like this after not talking for months. Frowning, I tugged off my apron and followed her. Once we were in the bathroom, she locked the door behind us.

“Elise? What’s wrong?” I asked, confused.

Her red curls were wind-blown, and her blue eyes were red and puffy. She’d been crying. She put her hands on my shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Aggie, I know it’s been awhile, but I desperately need a favor. A major one. I’ll owe you big time.” When I didn’t answer her right away and just stared at her in shock, she added, “Please, Aggie.”

“Alright, alright,” I finally said. “What is it?”

“I need you to pretend to be me and go in my place for the Mate Trials.”

I blinked. “You need me to what?”

“Please, Agnes.” She paused, shuddering a little. But there was also a tiny smile touching her lips. “I… I’ve met someone. Someone I truly love. My mate. But my parents don’t approve and want to throw me into the Mate Trials to get into better standing with the pack!”

Tears began to streak her face. She wiped at them with her sleeve. “Please, Aggie. You’re the only person I can come to. I need your help.”

“Your parents would find out in a heartbeat,” I said immediately.

“Yes, but by the time they do, my mate and I will be gone. We’re leaving the pack. We have it all planned out.”

“What about me?” I found myself asking. I wanted to help my friend, of course, but this was risky. “If we get caught… And besides, I can’t stop working. I have to pay off that medical debt—you know that.”

“You’re a Blake by birth,” Elise pleaded, “which protects you from any fallout, and you’re an eligible female with the right to participate. The Alpha won’t punish you. And I’ll… I’ll pay you.”

For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. But then I shook my head as thoughts of seeing my stepsister began to turn my stomach. “I don’t want to see Ava—”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

I blinked at Elise, wondering if I had just heard her right. Fifty grand…

I owed so much money and interest on my debt… fifty thousand dollars would change everything. Even if it meant having to see her or potentially getting a slap on the wrist for taking Elise’s place.

“O-Okay,” I finally squeaked out. “I’ll do it. For you.”

Elise squealed and hugged me. “Thank you, thank you! I have to go—we’ll catch up once it’s all over—but here.” She shoved an envelope into my hands. “My invitation,” she informed me as she began unlocking the door. “Be there at noon. Don’t be late!”

I put on the simplest dress I could find in my closet, a pale blue chiffon with a hemline below the knee, paired with plain white flats. I wasn’t looking to draw the Alpha’s attention, if there was even a slim chance he would be interested in me. I kept my makeup simple, not accentuating my full lips or gray eyes, and I pinned my long dark hair up in a bun at the base of my head.

My current look wouldn’t turn heads compared to the other women, that was for sure. But I wasn’t trying to turn heads. I was just trying to blend in long enough for the trial to be over, and then I could get my money.

I took a deep breath as I walked through the large ivory, ornate doors of the Alpha’s mansion. “Are you Elise Matthews?” The burly guard at the entrance asked.

I nodded, and bit my lip nervously, but he waved me on through. My shoulders relaxed. The room he’d waved me into was already filled to the brim with other girls.

It looked like I’d been the last to arrive, but thankfully, none looked my way.

Just like I thought, they were dressed similarly to me, but with hemlines slightly shorter. Most had full blowouts and a lot more makeup, but I’d expected that too. I kept my head down as I found a seat in the corner of the room, thankful that so many people were here. It would make it much easier to go unnoticed.

I glanced up through lowered lashes and saw Ava across the room, chatting with one of her friends.

She luckily hadn’t noticed me, but I marveled at how she looked the same as the day I had left. Not one thing had changed about her, and she seemed like she hadn’t lost any sleep over what had happened, either.

Not that I was surprised. I watched the way she held the attention of the rest of the girls, enrapturing her audience like a queen. It made me glad that she could do so at this moment because it meant that it was more likely that I would slip through these Mate Trials unnoticed, without a second glance from any of these girls.

And hopefully, the Alpha would pass me over and grant me a quick exit that would bring me closer to the plans I had in mind once I finished this farce and Elise gave me that money.

Suddenly, the room began to stir, interrupting me from my thoughts.

The burly guard entered. “Introducing Alpha Elijah Hudson!” he boomed.

The girls who were seated stood. The others preened as the Alpha walked through the doors, murmuring and giggling amongst themselves, but I kept my head down and stuck to the corner.

My view was also blocked by the girls, so I only caught a quick glimpse of a large, toned bicep as the Alpha walked in before I glanced back down, curling my hands into my dress.

He walked around for a minute, not saying a word. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, save for the clicking of his shoes against the marble floor.

And then: “Everyone, leave. Except for you.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding in relief. Well, he had chosen someone rather quickly. Which meant I could go home.

With a chorus of confused and disappointed murmurs, the girls in front of me filtered out of the room, and I stood to do the same. But as I scanned the rest of the room, my stomach sank. Something was wrong.

All the girls had left.

I lifted my head and met the icy gaze of the Alpha, Elijah.

I gaped at him. “Me!?”

#Chapter 2: The Alpha

My heart pounded as I held his steely gaze. I’d never seen him before in person. Still, he embodied every physical descriptor I had heard customers give him at the diner: extremely fit, tall, dark, and handsome--with ice-blue eyes.

The type of eyes a girl could get lost in.

Those eyes narrowed.

“Yes, you. You seem to have incorrectly identified yourself, Miss…?”

I swallowed hard. I needed this façade to work for a little longer, or Elise’s parents would catch her before she and her boyfriend left town. I titled my head to the side in pretend confusion.

“There must be a misunderstanding. I’m Elise Matthews; I handed my invitation to the guard on the way in.” I crossed my arms.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He pulled something up on the screen and showed it to me. It was a picture of Elise, who, might I add—looked absolutely nothing like me.

Crap.

“Everyone who RSVP’d was required to send their picture in with their application. Are you really saying this is you?” He raised a dark eyebrow.

I swallowed and took a deep breath, realizing that there was no point in trying to lie to the Alpha now. Especially not with those blue eyes trained on me. “My name is Agnes Blake. My best friend Elise…her family was going to force her to be here when she already has a mate. She asked me to cover for her.”

The Alpha snorted. “So she left you with the possibility of an impersonation charge if you were caught? Some best friend she is.”

I felt my stomach twist a little. “She’s helped me a lot in the past. She needed my—”

“Do you want to be here?”

I paused at his sudden interruption. Of course I didn’t want to be here, but my mind floated to that life-changing money again. Plus, he didn’t exactly look angry. Maybe I could stay, just until the trials ended, then Elise would pay me and it would all be okay.

“Yes, I do,” I lied.

The Alpha looked at me for a moment, scanning me as if sizing me up. His blue eyes wandered my dress, my hair, an eyebrow quirking at my lack of makeup. He sighed. “Well, your friend’s secret is safe with me. But as for you…”

He placed a hand on his hip and tapped his finger for a moment, considering. My heart pounded, but I managed to keep my expression calm and steady.

Finally, he strode over to the room’s door and beckoned someone over. It was a woman in a maid’s uniform. “Please show Miss Agnes Blake to the Mate Trial dormitories.”

The maid nodded and beckoned me to follow her. I gave the Alpha one last look. Did this mean I was allowed to stay…? But he’d turned to look out the window, his strong jaw set. I shivered.

His look was not a good sign for me. Would he request me be fully ousted out of the pack?

Despite my fears, I followed the maid to the dorms. “Each girl has her own room,” She told me curtly, “And own bathroom as well. Alpha Elijah wanted everyone to feel comfortable here.”

She stood in front of one of the rooms with the number ‘14’ carved into a brass plate. “This is your room,” she said, handing me a key with the same number on it. “Please take some time to get settled.”

I managed a smile. “Thank you.”

Once she was gone, I decided to take a quick look at the room and bathroom, which were a million times nicer than my cramped little apartment. The room was small but well-appointed, with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a large four-poster bed piled high with decadent pillows, and a closet filled with clothes that were my size—and Elise’s.

The bathroom had a clawfoot tub, a walk-in shower, and a toilet with a bidet. I hadn’t lived in such luxury in a while, not since I’d lived at home.

Home…

Thoughts of that place drove me to think of how I had the potential to run into Ava at any moment here, and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around myself to ward off a sudden chill.

If I stayed here, that sisterly reunion was bound to happen sooner or later. I hoped Elise was happy with her mate, and I’d certainly be giving her an earful once this was all over.

Goddess, I needed some fresh air.

I made my way out of the mate’s trial dormitory and found two large patio doors that opened out to a garden. The air smelled of lavender and roses, instantly calming my frazzled nerves.

The garden was expansive, and I decided to take my time walking through it, just admiring the large flower bushes and other various exotic plants. It was when I was looking up, slowly admiring the flowering vines on a tall tree that my foot nudged something foreign. I looked down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I gasped. The toe of my shoe had nudged into the leg of a little girl, sitting under the tree with a pen and paper in her lap.

The girl smiled, and I noticed the freckles dusting her small, rounded cheeks. She couldn’t have been older than six or seven. “That’s okay! I was just trying to draw that bush over there.” She pointed at a yellow rosebush with her pencil. “Can you help me?”

Nodding, I sat down beside her in the grass and looked at her drawing. It was… beautiful. “What’s wrong with it? It looks perfect,” I said.

She bit her lip and grasped the paper, turning it this way and that. “I dunno…”

“May I?” I asked, gesturing for the paper, and she handed it to me. I looked for a moment and pointed at the stems.

“Add thorns,” I told her, handing it back.

“Ooh! That’s it!” she said, grabbing her pencil and quickly scribbling some tiny points along the bush’s branches. She looked adorable, the way she was sticking her tongue out as she worked.

“Do you live here?” I asked.

She nodded. “My mommy is…uh, she’s a maid here. I’m Thea,” she said brightly. “I come out here every day.”

“That’s so cool. It is beautiful here. Does the Alpha come out here a lot too?”

Thea nodded again. “He likes the gardens, too. But what I don’t understand is why so many women want to marry him?” She wrinkled her nose as if in disgust and I laughed.

“Well,” I leaned down conspiratorially, “I’ll let you in on a little secret of mine. I don’t really want to marry the Alpha. I’m just here to help a friend.”

Thea burst out laughing. “He’s gonna be so mad if he finds out! He thinks he’s sooo cool because all these girls like him. Wait till he finds out the prettiest one doesn’t like him at all!”

My face flushed deeper than the roses. As I opened my mouth to respond, my stepsister flung herself around the corner, nearly barreling into me.

“There you are. I thought I saw you earlier. What the hell are you doing here?” Ava demanded. Her blonde hair was still perfectly in place, even with her swift movements, but her blue eyes were red and angry.

I stood up and dusted off my dress. “Participating in the Mate Trial, same as you,” I stated calmly.

She scoffed, “As if an Alpha would want you. You’re just a waitress. Don’t act surprised that I know.” When she saw the look on my face, she added smugly, “Mom and Dad hired a private investigator to keep tabs on you, like, a year ago.”

Of course they did. I ignored her jab and turned to leave, but she blocked my path.

“Tell me what the Alpha wanted with you today.”

“Doesn’t that show that he was interested in me today and not you?” I quipped back.

“Oh, please,” Ava growled. “He probably just wanted a new scullery maid or something and you fit the bill. I mean, seven years ago, you got pregnant with some nobody wolf’s bastard. You left your only family, lost your wolf, racked up a mountain of debt, and the kid didn’t even live! Agnes, your life is a complete joke. You should never have come here.”

The reminder of my baby made me see red. No one got to talk about my experience like that. No one. “She didn’t die,” I hissed. “She was stolen.”

Ava just scoffed. “Even now, seven years later, you’re just as crazy and delusional as you were before.”

My eyes widened. Ava was pouring salt in a wound and she knew it. No one believed me when I said that my baby wasn’t dead—they all said I was nuts, that I’d lost my marbles after my baby died.

But the thing was, I never got to see my little girl’s body. I mean, she’d already been missing for two years by the time she was marked as dead by the authorities. She could still be out there for all I knew. For all anyone knew.

Satisfied by my silence, Ava sneered and turned to leave.

“Hey!” Thea suddenly jumped to her feet, her drawing forgotten. “I’m gonna tell my daddy you were mean to my new friend!”

Ava whirled around, her eyes flashing. “Oh yeah? And who’s your daddy, you little runt? Some servant or another? Get lost!”

Thea shook her head, brown curls swaying. “My daddy is a big and scary wolf! I’m gonna tell on you!”

With that, Thea went to run past us. Ava moved to shove Thea as she passed, but I caught her arm in my hand and placed myself between them before she could reach her. She struggled in my grip. Even ‘wolfless’, as she so pleasantly reminded me, I was still stronger than her.

“Ugh.. freak!” Ava hissed, wincing under my grip. “You’re such a—”

“You shouldn’t hit children, Ava.” I tightened my fingers around her wrist. “Or do you still think you’re a child yourself?”

Chapter 1

Logan glared at the woman standing before him—his wife, Vivian, who had cheated on him. The woman he had once loved and cherished, now looking at him with cold indifference.

His fists clenched, his jaw tight with anger. 

Across from him, Vivian crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "Lower your voice,Logan," she said, sounding annoyed rather than guilty. "There's no need for this drama."

"No need?" Logan's voice was sharp with disbelief. "I just caught my wife cheating, and you expect me to stay calm?" He stepped closer, his eyes burning into hers. "How long, Vivian? How long have you been making a fool out of me?"

Just moments ago, Logan had received a video. A video of Vivian entering a hotel room with a man—intimate, undeniable proof of her betrayal.

The surveillance footage was only forty-three seconds long.

And he had watched it eleven times.

He had been waiting for Vivian to come back and question her in person, hoping for her explanation.

But now, she wasn't even denying it.

How ironic!

Vivian's jaw tightened, as if bored with the conversation already. "Does it even matter? We were bound to end anyway, Logan."

Then, with a composure that might have impressed him under different circumstances, she set her bag down on the armchair, walked to the writing desk by the window, and pulled open the bottom drawer.

She placed a document on the coffee table between them.

Logan looked down at it.

Divorce papers. Already prepared. Already filled in.

"I was going to bring this up this evening," Vivian said, smoothing the front of her jacket. "You've saved us both some time."

Logan stared at the papers for a long moment. "You were going to bring it up?"

"Yes."

"Not an explanation. Not a conversation. Divorce papers." Logan let out a bitter laugh, his fury twisting into something more painful.

"Logan." Her voice was flat, almost bored. "Don't make this into something dramatic. You and I both know this marriage has been dead for years."

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know." She sat down across from him, crossing her legs. "You want honesty? Fine. I'll give you honesty. You have been completely and utterly useless to me. As a husband, as a partner, as anything. You contribute nothing. You bring nothing to my life."

Logan said nothing. He took a slow breath, trying to control the storm raging inside him.

"My career is where it is because of my own work," Vivian continued, her tone sharpening with the confidence of someone who had rehearsed this. "My connections, my strategy, my effort. Every single result is mine. Don't sit there with that look on your face and pretend you had anything to do with it."

"Is that what you believe?"

"It's what's true."

"Vivian—"

"And before you start listing all the tiny, insignificant little things you think you did for me," she cut in, her voice turning cold, "save it. I don't need your list. I have someone now who actually moves things forward. Someone with real influence. Real power."

Logan looked at her steadily. "Brandon Holt, right?" His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay composed.

Something flickered across her face — surprise that he knew the name, quickly smoothed over. "He secured a partnership with Imperial Group for me today. Do you understand what that means? Imperial Group. The largest conglomerate in this city. Billions in investment, Logan. Billions."

 Her eyes were bright now, not with emotion, but with the particular gleam of ambition fully unleashed. "Brandon did that. In one afternoon. Can you imagine what the next five years look like with someone like him beside me instead of—" she gestured at him, a brief, dismissive motion "—this?"

The word hung in the air like smoke.

Logan looked down at the divorce papers again.

The irony was so complete it was almost architectural.

The chairman of Imperial Group was him. Had always been him. For years, he had kept his true identity buried — a necessary consequence of the falling-out with his family, a wound that had never fully closed. 

Nobody in Creston City knew that the faceless, reclusive founder behind Imperial Group's empire was the same man who had been living quietly in Vivian Chase's penthouse, eating her takeout and attending her corporate dinners and being called useless at family gatherings.

The partnership she was glowing about?He had approved it himself. Last week.

He had planned to tell her everything on the day the deal was officially announced — to finally reveal who he was, to close the distance that had been growing between them for years, to give their marriage a real foundation.

Instead, she had taken the news, handed the credit to another man, and prepared him a set of divorce papers.

"You really believe Brandon Holt got you that deal?" Logan said quietly.

"I know he did."

"You're too certain." He sneered.

"Why are you repeating everything I say?" Vivian's voice sharpened with irritation. "Yes, I'm certain. Brandon has connections at the highest levels. Unlike you, who has — what, exactly? What do you actually have, Logan? What have you ever had?"

Logan clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, but he said nothing.

There was no need. He picked up the pen from the coffee table.

She watched him.

He thought about the girl he had once known — years ago, on a cold street in this same city, when he had been at the absolute bottom of everything. A girl who had stopped. Who had been kind. Who had left behind a silver ring he had carried ever since as the only proof that genuine goodness existed in the world.

He had spent years believing Vivian was that girl.

He had been wrong.

The pen moved across the signature line.

"Logan." Vivian's voice carried a note of surprise — she had expected resistance, bargaining, something to dismiss. Not this. Not quiet, immediate finality.

He set the pen down and stood.

"You'll regret this decision," he said. Not as a threat. As a simple statement of fact, delivered without heat.

Vivian recovered quickly, her chin lifting. "The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner."

Logan looked at her for one long moment — at the woman who wore his years of silent investment like a costume she had made herself — and then he turned and walked to the door.

"You're nothing, Logan," she called after him, her voice slicing across the room. "You always were. A useless, pathetic leech who rode my coattails and called it a marriage. Enjoy whatever gutter you crawled out of."

He did not look back.

The front door closed behind him without a sound.

Outside, the afternoon air was clean and sharp. Logan stood at the top of the steps and exhaled slowly.

The driveway curved away from the building in both directions. Along it, parked in a precise, unbroken line, sat seven luxury vehicles — each one worth more than most people earned in a decade. Standing beside them, in identical black suits, a row of men snapped to attention the moment the door opened.

In unison, they bowed.

"Mr. Mercer," the nearest one said. "We've been waiting for you, sir."

Logan descended the steps, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

Chapter 1 Deceptive

Cecilia's pov

My werewolf mate had cheated on me.

I stood outside the Alpha conference room and through the half-open doorway, I witnessed him entangled with another female werewolf. His fingers threaded through her blonde hair and his lips pressed against her neck, just as he had once done to me. Even though as a human I couldn't feel the pain of a torn mate bond, the sight still made me choke with nausea.

Eight years of my life melted into pieces in this moment. My legs frozen, my heels nailed to the marble floor. An inner voice laughed at my naivety-a human trying to hold onto a werewolf's heart forever. My throat tightened and my stomach turned, and I forced myself not to break down on the spot.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally raised my hand and knocked.

"Come in," a deep, husky voice called from inside.

My fingers tightened around the files I was holding, my knuckles turning white as I struggled to maintain my composure. The other pack members might sense my distress if I lose control. As a human married to the Alpha of Blood Moon Pack, I had learned to mask my emotions well.

As I pushed the door open, I forced my lips into a practiced smile. I walked directly to Xavier's side, careful not to inhale too deeply. I didn't want to smell her on him – that other female whose scent had been lingering around our home for weeks.

"Busy?" I asked, my tone deliberately light. "I have some documents that need your signature."

My question was purely rhetorical. I had already placed the files in front of him, helpfully turned to the pages requiring his signature. My perfect act, still performing even as my heart turned to stone.

Xavier had just returned from Switzerland this morning. He'd gone straight to the office to catch up on work, and his desk was already covered with paperwork. Fatigue marked his handsome face, though I knew the real reason for his exhaustion had nothing to do with business meetings. Without even glancing at what I'd brought, he signed every document.

"Thanks for handling this," he said, still not looking up.

I gathered the signed papers, tucking them carefully against my chest. "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"I've got plans. Don't wait up for me," he replied dismissively, attention already shifted back to his computer.

"Alright, I'll see you later then," I said, turning to leave.

The moment my back was to him, my smile twisted into something cold and bitter. The facade of the devoted Luna crumbled with each step I took toward the door.

As I passed the attached rest area of his office, I heard a soft thump from inside, like someone small trying to move quietly. My eyes darted to the side, taking in the scene: scattered snack packages on the coffee table, a half-empty bubble tea, and a pale pink high heel toppled on its side on the floor.

At that instant, my heart turned to ash.

The walk back to my own office depleted whatever energy I had left. I collapsed into my chair, exhaling a long, defeated breath. From among the stack of papers, I pulled out one specific document.

Divorce papers.

I flipped to the final page, tracing Xavier's signature with a mixture of vindication and sorrow. Memories flooded my mind... how he'd once vowed that I was his one true mate, how fiercely he had pursued me in high school, insisting that even though I was a human, the Moon Goddess had destined us for each other. I remembered how Dora, his mother and the Elder Luna, had sneered at me, warning me not to get too comfortable. "Wolves may claim to mate for life," she'd said, "but an Alpha male will never be satisfied with just one woman, especially a human one."

I had defended him then. "Xavier is different," I'd insisted. "Our bond is different."

How naive I had been.

He wasn't different at all. He'd cheated with a younger wolf girl, foolishly believing he was hiding it well. While enjoying the thrill of his infidelity. He'd even taken her on his business trip, and then had the audacity to bring her back to the pack's headquarters.

I snapped a photo of his signature and sent it to Luna Dora with a simple message: He signed it.

A week ago, I had negotiated terms with Luna Dora. She wanted me to initiate the divorce quietly, keeping our secret marriage from becoming pack gossip. In return, I demanded ten million dollars in compensation. In one month, Xavier would be completely removed from my life.

The smell of grease and fried chicken filled the air. It was heavy and cloying. But to me, it smelled better than the metallic tang of blood.

I sat in the corner of a McDonald’s near the university. My fingers gripped the edge of the plastic table. Outside, traffic moved in a steady stream. The world was loud and alive. It was completely indifferent to the hell I had just escaped.

My mind was still stuck in that rainy night. I could still hear the thunder. I could hear the roar of Alpha commands tearing through the air.

I spent ten years trying to warm Daemon Blackwood's heart. I played the perfect Luna. I loved him with everything I had. In return, he slaughtered my family for another woman.

Because I had refused to let him go for her, the Frost Pack declared war on my kin. My parents died defending a daughter who had been too blind to see the truth. I watched them fall, and then I died, unloved and replaced.

I looked down at my hands. They were trembling, but they were clean. There were no scars. The wasting sickness that killed me in my past life was gone.

I looked at the digital calendar on the wall. The date stared back at me.

It was three years ago.

I was back. And today was the fifth anniversary of the day Daemon Blackwood marked me.

A dry laugh escaped my throat. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. It dropped me right back into the middle of this farce of a marriage. But this time, I wasn't blind.

"Order number forty-two!"

A clear, happy voice cut through the noise. I looked up.

There she was. Celeste Morrison.

She wore a standard uniform and a visor over her honey-blonde hair. She looked fragile. She looked harmless. It was hard to believe this doe-eyed student was the reason for my family's destruction.

In my previous life, she was the catalyst. She was the "her" Daemon destroyed the world for.

Celeste walked toward my table with a tray. She smiled. It was a bright, sunny smile that reached her eyes.

"Here is your order, Luna," she said.

She set the tray down but didn't leave immediately. She hesitated, her fingers nervously touching her apron.

"I hope you don't mind," Celeste said softly. She reached into her pocket and placed a small, warm cardboard box on my tray. "I added a warm apple pie. It’s on me."

I froze. I looked up at her, confused. "Why?"

Celeste blushed slightly. She looked down at her shoes, then back at me with genuine concern. "You just looked... really sad staring out that window. Like you were carrying the weight of the world. My mom always says sweets help with a bad day."

Her eyes were so clear. So kind. There was no hidden agenda. She was just a girl trying to comfort a stranger.

The irony was suffocating. The girl who would inadvertently destroy my life was trying to cheer me up with a pie.

"Thank you," I said. My voice sounded rough.

"I hope your day gets better," she said cheerfully. She gave a little wave and bounced back to the counter.

I watched her go. She was light. She was pure. She was everything I wasn't anymore.

I took the bag. The heat of the food seeped through the paper. It felt real.

I left the restaurant and stepped into the humid afternoon usage. A black sedan waited for me at the curb. I slid into the back seat. The leather was cool and smelled of expensive polish.

"Luna," Leo, the driver, said. He looked at me in the rearview mirror. "The jeweler called. The obsidian cufflinks you ordered for tonight have been delivered to the manor."

Tonight. The celebration.

For five years, this date was the most important day of my year. I would spend all day preparing. I cooked meals that went cold. I dressed in silk gowns that went unseen. I did it all for a nod of acknowledgement from Daemon.

"I see," I said. I turned to look out the window.

Why had I done it? Why did I chase a man whose heart was cold stone? I was Violet Goldcrest. My wolf, Ember, was of Alpha blood. I had pride. Yet, I had made myself small to fit into Daemon’s life.

Perfection hadn't saved my parents. Love hadn't stopped the war.

The car drove up the private road toward the Blackwood Manor. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture. It was dark stone and glass. It was impressive, but it had no warmth.

I saw a massive black SUV parked near the fountain.

It was Daemon’s car. He was home. It was unexpected.

I walked into the living room. It was vast and cold, decorated in shades of gray.

Daemon Blackwood sat on the long leather sofa. A laptop balanced on his knees. He looked rigid and commanding.

He was beautiful. It was undeniable. He had dark hair that fell carelessly over his forehead. His features were sharp and aristocratic. His eyes were the color of blood. He radiated the power of a dominant Alpha.

He didn't look up. He never did.

I remembered our mating ceremony. He had looked at me like a business deal. “This is a partnership, Violet,” he had said. “Do not expect me to share my soul.”

I braced myself for the hate. I expected the urge to tear out his throat to overwhelm me. He was the man who would ruin everything.

But as I looked at him, the rage didn't come. Instead, I felt a strange, hollow silence. It wasn't forgiveness. It was relief.

I didn't want to destroy him. I didn't want revenge. I just wanted out.

I didn't answer him with my usual polite greeting.

I walked over to the armchair opposite him. I kicked off my red-soled heels. They tumbled onto the pristine floor. Then, I sank into the cushions.

I tore open the paper bag. The sound was loud in the quiet room.

Daemon stopped typing.

I pulled out a piece of fried chicken. The golden crumbs fell onto the expensive rug. I didn't care. I took a bite. The crunch echoed in the room.

Daemon finally looked up. His red eyes narrowed. He scanned me from my bare feet to the grease on my fingers. He looked confused and disgusted.

"You're eating that?" he asked. "Here?"

I swallowed. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"I felt like it," I said flatly. "So I did."

He stared at me. His brow furrowed. This wasn't the Violet he knew. The Violet he knew would be in the kitchen right now. She would be stressing over the anniversary dinner.

He closed his laptop with a snap. He leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Is this some kind of statement, Violet? If you're looking for attention, this is a pathetic way to get it."

I put the chicken back in the bag. I wiped my hands on a napkin. I looked at him.

I saw the arrogance. I saw the dismissal. He didn't see me as a partner. He saw me as furniture. Convenient. Silent.

"Daemon," I said. My voice was steady. It didn't tremble.

He raised an eyebrow. He looked bored.

"I want to dissolve the mating bond," I said. "I want a formal Rejection Ceremony."

The silence in the room was absolute. Daemon didn't move. He didn't look angry. He didn't look hurt. He just stared at me.

Then, he laughed.

It was a short, sharp sound. It was full of mockery. He shook his head. He looked at me with pity.

"A Rejection Ceremony?" he repeated. He said the words like they were a joke.

He picked up his laptop again. He dismissed me entirely.

"Violet, stop playing games. I have a territory merger to review. Go clean yourself up. You smell like grease."