Jill Frevert

For five years, I was a ghost in the Spencer Pack, a placeholder wife for an Alpha who couldn't stand the sight of me. I endured the neglect, believing my loyalty would eventually win him over. But at the Moon Ball, when his mistress mocked my disabled mother and I finally stood up for myself, Easton didn't defend me. Instead, he used his Alpha Command to force me to my knees in front of the entire pack. "Submit," he growled, stripping away my dignity. The humiliation didn't end there. He forced me to chauffeur him and his mistress to their romantic getaway. He watched silently as they fed me raw meat like a feral dog. And when his mistress framed me for stealing the Luna necklace, he didn't check the cameras. He looked at me with pure disgust and threw me into the silver cells. He didn't know I was the "Ghost Designer" behind his company's massive success. He didn't know I had lost our child alone on the bathroom floor three years ago while he was on vacation with her. He only saw a wolfless Omega he could use and discard. Standing in that cold cell, the love I held for him finally turned to ash. I realized I wasn't waiting for him to love me; I was waiting for permission to leave. I looked at the man who promised to protect me and spoke the words that would destroy him. "I, Brooke Rollins, reject you, Easton Spencer." As he clutched his chest in agony, the bond snapping like a whip, I walked out of the cell and into the arms of the rival Alpha who saw my true worth.

On our seventh anniversary, my husband Dante tossed divorce papers onto the desk. He looked at me with cold indifference, his hand resting on the swollen belly of his nineteen-year-old mistress. "You are barren, Seraphina," he spat. "She carries my legacy. You carry nothing but ghosts." When I tried to argue, he shoved me. I fell hard, my back slamming against the concrete floor of the studio. Pain tore through my abdomen, and warm blood began to pool beneath my red dress. The tragedy wasn't just the violence; it was the truth he didn't know. The IVF hadn't failed. I was pregnant with the son he had desperately prayed for. And in his rage to protect a mistress carrying a stranger's baby, he had just killed his own flesh and blood. He stepped over my bleeding body and took her to the Commission Auction to celebrate. He thought I was broken. He thought I was finished. But he forgot that I knew all his secrets. I woke up in the hospital, signed the papers that froze his entire fortune, and walked straight into the gala. I stood before the most dangerous men in New York and threw a medical file onto Dante's table. "You killed your real son today when you pushed me," I said, my voice slicing through the silence. "As for hers? It can't be yours, Dante." "Because according to this, you have been sterile for seven years."

My daughter Jodie died in my arms. The doctor' s words were a death sentence: "Severe neglect. Malnutrition. Multiple internal injuries." But my husband, the famous life coach Julian Maynard, didn't mourn. He issued a public statement. He called Jodie a "challenging child" and twisted her death into a tragedy about mental health, all to enhance his compassionate image. He even publicly forgave the boy who had tormented her, the same boy he brought into our home to teach Jodie "resilience." My own life ended in a fire, a final, violent release from a world of his making. As the flames consumed me, I couldn't understand. How could the man I loved build his legacy on the grave of our daughter and the ruins of my life? Then, I opened my eyes. The divorce papers sat on the table, his signature a stark black stain. It was years earlier. Before the fire. Before Jodie died.

For ten years, I was the invisible architect of my husband's tech empire, forced to manage his parade of publicly funded mistresses. But he crossed a line when he destroyed my father's last legacy-a priceless block of marble-to carve a statue for his new obsession, Isla. When I confronted him, he had me shot, poisoned, and left for dead in a basement. He framed me for attempting to murder Isla, turning our entire world against me. He chose her, always her, even as she dragged me to a cliff's edge, ready to push me into the ocean below. "Choose, Elliott!" she screamed. "Her or me!" "You," he choked out, his eyes on Isla. "I choose you." With his betrayal echoing in the wind, Isla threw my father's sculpture into the sea. And as the last piece of my heart sank into the abyss, I smiled. Then, I jumped.

For five years, my husband, Courtland Johnson, had me locked in a rehabilitation center, telling the world I was a murderer who had killed my own stepsister. On the day of my release, he was waiting. The first thing he did was swerve his car directly at me, trying to run me down before I even left the curb. My punishment, it turned out, was only just beginning. Back at the mansion I once called home, he locked me in a dog kennel. He forced me to kowtow to my "dead" sister's portrait until my head bled onto the marble floor. He made me drink a potion to ensure my "tainted bloodline" would end with me. He even tried to give me to a lecherous business partner for the night, a "lesson" for my defiance. But the cruelest truth was yet to come. My stepsister, Kinsley, was alive. My five years of hell were all part of her sick game. And when my little brother Aspen, my only reason for living, witnessed my humiliation, she had him thrown down a flight of stone steps. My husband watched him die and did nothing. Dying from my injuries and a broken heart, I threw myself from a hospital window, my last thought a vow of revenge. I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day of my release. The warden's voice was flat. "Your husband has arranged it. He's waiting." This time, I would be the one waiting. To drag him, and everyone who wronged me, straight to hell.

The acceptance letter from Atheria Art Academy was heavy in my hands, promising a future I' d dreamed of with my childhood friends, Jake and Noah. We all got in, scholarships secured. But then, Jake' s smile faltered. He and Noah dropped a bombshell: they weren' t going to Atheria; they were choosing community college, all for the new girl, Emily, who' d appeared just months ago. "It' s because of Emily," Jake stated, his voice filled with a righteousness that grated on my nerves. "She needs us. She' s going to Northwood, so we' re going with her." I wanted to scream, to shake them, but then shimmering, golden letters appeared before my eyes, a phantom message only I could see: "If the supporting character continues to hinder, the male leads will design to lose her scholarship documents. She will then fall down the stairs while looking for them, resulting in permanent leg paralysis, spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair." More words appeared: "She deserves it! Anyone who obstructs the plot will face consequences!" The world spun. Supporting character? Male leads? This was a cheap novel come to life, and I was slated for paralysis. My blood ran cold, the words I was about to say dying on my lips. They weren't just making a stupid choice; they were agents of a predetermined, horrifying destiny. My family had given them everything, treated them like sons, and this was their repayment? Becoming pawns who would see me crippled? No. I refused. I choked down the bitter taste of betrayal and forced a calm over my face. "If you' ve made up your minds, then go to community college." They looked surprised, then relieved, completely missing the quiet fury in my eyes. They thought they were choosing a different path. They had no idea they had just chosen to walk off a cliff.

The call came on a Tuesday, shattering my world: my parents, gone. My startup, built on their dreams, imploded soon after, leaving me with crushing debt and hollow ambition. Friends vanished, family offered dismissive condolences, and I was left a failure, a walking tragedy they wanted no part of. Then, Emily Vance appeared. She organized my parents' funeral with quiet grace, held my hand as their caskets were lowered, and publicly defied her powerful family, declaring, "I' m marrying him. He needs me." For five years, she was my rock as I launched and shuttered ninety-nine ventures, each ending in failure. Tonight, our fifth anniversary, I was ready to celebrate her unwavering belief. But through the quiet hum of the restaurant, I heard Chloe' s cynical voice slice through the air: "Ninety-nine failures, Em. When are you going to drop the charity case?" Emily' s familiar laugh, once my comfort, now twisted into a chilling sound. "Patience, Chloe. It' s almost over. Mark' s company just secured another round of funding. All thanks to Liam' s latest 'failure' ." Mark Turner. Her ex. My rival. The man whose company eerily mirrored my own failed concepts. My roses felt like lead. "You' re still feeding him Liam' s data?" Chloe asked, awe in her voice. "Of course," Emily purred, dripping with satisfaction. "Every core algorithm, every business plan. Liam' s a genius at ideas, but a terrible businessman. Mark is brilliant at execution. It' s the perfect partnership, really. They just don' t both know they' re in it." My salvation was a lie. Our marriage, a business transaction. My grief, my struggle, my desperate hope-all harvested and fed to another man. "I' m proposing to Mark tonight," she continued, delivering the final blow. "This anniversary dinner is the last one, I promise. A final goodbye to five years of wasted time." The world dissolved around me. My entrepreneurial dreams, killed not by incompetence, but by the most intimate betrayal imaginable. I wouldn't go quietly. Not as the broken man she thought I was. I stepped away, the plan already forming to collect every piece of evidence. My salvation had been a lie. Now, my ruin would be her truth.

For seven years, I poured my soul into "Pixelated Promises," a game that was meant to be the living embodiment of my love story with Liam. I envisioned it as the grand finale, the pixelated masterpiece that would finally lead to his proposal. But at the biggest gaming convention of the year, my world shattered as I watched him on the main stage, showcasing my game, rebranded as "Digital Destiny," with his ex-girlfriend, Sophia, at his side. My characters, my art, my life's work-all presented as her vision, while Liam stood by, beaming, completely oblivious to the dawning horror on my face. He dismissed my pain, my betrayal, and every question I had, brushing it all off as "just a rebranding" for "the good of the project" because Sophia had a "huge following." He even had the audacity to suggest that since I "hated the spotlight," I should just "lend" her my life' s work. Later, I overheard conversations confirming my worst fears: Liam and Sophia' s collaboration wasn't new; it was a premeditated plan spanning years, and I was just a temporary placeholder until his "real love" was available. My seven-year relationship, my dreams, my very identity-all crumbled into dust, proving I had been nothing more than a convenient tool. Adding insult to injury, he exploited my critical illness, diagnosed just weeks prior, to manipulate me into continuing to provide technical support for their game. Then, I stumbled upon a file on our shared server: "Sophia_Game_Proposal_V1.docx," a document containing my deeply personal design notes from five years ago-notes I hadn' t even shared with him-now stolen and claimed as Sophia' s "inspiration." When confronted, Liam, with sickening nonchalance, asked me to "just let it go" for Sophia's sake, utterly oblivious to the fact that I was dying. That night, amidst the hollow celebrations for "Digital Destiny," I sent Liam a final text: "We're done. Don't contact me." The next morning, he showed up at my door, feigning shock at the breakup, and then, in a desperate, performative gesture, knelt and proposed with a diamond ring. But his theatrical display meant nothing; the man I loved had already stolen everything from me. When he stumbled upon my medical report, confirming my terminal illness, he crumbled, blaming Sophia, begging for forgiveness. Yet, his tears were too late; the man I had loved for seven years had left me with nothing but ashes. I was done fighting not for myself, but for the devastated faces of my parents, I agreed to one last, futile treatment. In the faint light of an old arcade, surrounded by the ghosts of our past, I calmly told Liam, "We had a good dream once, Liam. It was a beautiful promise," accepting the end with quiet dignity.

Jack Miller, my big brother and the powerful head of Miller Corp, was presenting university scholarships, a yearly family tradition. He made a simple comment to a young student, Sarah Vance, noting she shared my exact birthday – same day, month, year, even the hour. It was a throwaway line, but for Sarah, it became a spark, igniting a terrifying delusion. In my first life, that delusion grew into a monstrous lie: she convinced herself she was the true Miller heiress, inexplicably switched at birth. That monstrous lie led directly to my murder. I can still feel the damp chill of the abandoned warehouse, Sarah's eyes blazing with feverish triumph, the faces of the two hired thugs, Spike and Knuckles. But nothing cut deeper than seeing Ethan Hayes, my own fiancé, standing by, watching it all unfold. "She deserves it," Ethan had said, his voice devoid of emotion. "For everything she took from you, Sarah." The utter betrayal was a punch to the gut. Liam Hayes, Ethan' s gentle cousin, tried to intervene, but they easily overpowered him. Then, the dark, churning water of the river enveloped my head, Liam struggling beside me before falling still himself. How could this happen? How could I be killed for a fictional claim, abandoned by the man I loved? Darkness. Until now. I jolted awake, gasping, my eyes snapping open to the familiar, faded floral wallpaper. It was the same dusty smell, the exact same day. The day of the kidnapping. I was back. Reborn. My heart hammered, a frantic drum against my ribs. This second chance wouldn't be wasted. I wouldn't be their victim again. This time, I would fight back.

My life with tech billionaire Ethan Hayes, two seemingly perfect children, and a meticulously managed household in New York City, was outwardly flawless, a gilded cage where my tireless efforts remained invisible and unappreciated. I awakened abruptly, not in the sterile care facility of my terrifying premonition where I lay neglected and alone near death, but startlingly, in my own bedroom, vibrant and 35, now burdened with a chilling crystal-clear replay of a future where Ethan' s deep-seated affection for his college sweetheart, Chloe Vance, alongside our children' s gradual alienation, directly led to my abandonment and lonely demise. Recognizing this as a dire warning rather than a dream, I swiftly filed for divorce, deliberately setting the stage for Chloe to replace me, hoping to avert the impending tragedy, a decision that paradoxically accelerated my projected torment. Chloe' s insidious infiltration deepened, turning my children against me, culminating horrifically when my son, EJ, falsely accused me of enabling his severe peanut allergy, prompting Ethan, believing their cruel lie, to forcibly spoon peanut butter into my mouth, and as I choked on the allergen, my children chillingly clapped, proclaiming, "Now she knows!" The excruciating pain of that forced ingestion, quickly followed by EJ's vengeful shove that brutally fractured my ankle-all met with Ethan's callous indifference and Chloe' s feigned concern-left my heart a barren wasteland, utterly consuming every ounce of the love and years of devoted care I had bestowed upon them. With an unwavering, steel-cold resolution, declaring "I' m the nanny. And the nanny quits," I severed every remaining tie, abandoning the mansion and their poisonous presence for a new life, irrevocably free, leaving them to face the consequences of their shocking cruelty.

My dad vanished four years ago on Widow's Peak, a notorious trail. I thought I'd finally found closure when rangers declared him dead, burying his ruined journal in our backyard. But then, late one night, the back door creaked open, and he was back. Not really. He was a horrifying shell of a man, caked in dirt, radiating a preternatural chill, and grinning with an empty, fixed smile. My mom, Linda, took one look at him and whispered, "That is not your father," before fleeing, leaving me alone with it. Desperate, I unearthed Dad's journal, its water-damaged pages filled with warnings, and a chilling photo of Carol, my biological mother, dead near a cave. His last legible entry, scrawled in what looked like blood, screamed: "MAYA! LINDA ISN'T YOUR MOTHER!" My world shattered. Who was Carol? And if Linda wasn't my mother, then who was she, the woman who raised me, now possibly a betrayer? I had to unearth every dark secret the Appalachian mountains held, from the chilling 'Hollow Man' in my living room to the twisted truth of my family, even if it meant confronting the woman who sacrificed everything for me.

I was Ava Miller, Hollywood's top PR guru, thriving at my firm, happily pregnant with my fiancé Ethan's child. One ordinary evening, Ethan's familiar tea tasted odd. Darkness. I awoke tied to a chair, dimly lit, only to see Rex Donovan, my volatile client, standing there. And Ethan. My Ethan. My blood ran cold as Ethan, with chilling casualness, exposed his betrayal, blaming me for an intern’s past disappearance. He fed Rex a grotesque lie, fueling the rock star's rage. The pain was unimaginable; Rex ensured I knew he was killing my baby first, tearing my world apart. As darkness embraced me, my last sight was Ethan, watching, his face a mask of pure hatred. "Why?" I choked, blood filling my mouth, grappling with this unfathomable betrayal. Then, a jolt. I gasped, bolt upright in my office chair, my stomach flat. The calendar showed it was *that* day – the day Chloe Sanders first walked in, asking for the Rex Donovan case. I was back.

I spent my entire youth supporting Mathias, but when I saw the video of him naked on my best friend's body, I activated the revenge button! I personally pushed him into an irreversible abyss, then manipulated public opinion to force my best friend to jump from the top floor and fall into a pile of flesh. In our entanglement, I became the ultimate winner! But why do I not feel an ounce of joy in victory?

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Narine never expected to survive. Not after what was done to her body, mind, and soul. But fate had other plans. Rescued by Supreme Alpha Sargis, the kingdom's most feared ruler, she finds herself under the protection of a man she doesn't know... and a bond she doesn't understand. Sargis is no stranger to sacrifice. Ruthless, ambitious, and loyal to the sacred matebond, he's spent years searching for the soul fate promised him, never imagining she would come to him broken, on the brink of death, and afraid of her own shadow. He never meant to fall for her... but he does. Hard and fast. And he'll burn the world before letting anyone hurt her again. What begins in silence between two fractured souls slowly grows into something intimate and real. But healing is never linear. With the court whispering, the past clawing at their heels, and the future hanging by a thread, their bond is tested again and again. Because falling in love is one thing. Surviving it? That's a war of its own. Narine must decide, can she survive being loved by a man who burns like fire, when all she's ever known is how not to feel? Will she shrink for the sake of peace, or rise as Queen for the sake of his soul? For readers who believe even the most fractured souls can be whole again, and that true love doesn't save you. It stands beside you while you save yourself.

Luna has tried her best to make her forced marriage to Xen work for the sake of their child. But with Riley and Sophia- Xen's ex-girlfriend and her son in the picture. She fights a losing battle. Ollie, Xen's son is neglected by his father for a very long time and he is also suffering from a mysterious sickness that's draining his life force. When his last wish to have his dad come to his 5th birthday party is dashed by his failure to show up, Ollie dies in an accident after seeing his father celebrate Riley's birthday with Sophia and it's displayed on the big advertising boards that fill the city. Ollie dies and Luna follows after, unable to bear the grief, dying in her mate's hands cursing him and begging for a second chance to save her son. Luna gets the opportunity and is woken up in the past, exactly one year to the day Sophia and Riley show up. But this time around, Luna is willing to get rid of everyone and anyone even her mate if he steps in her way to save her son.

My Luna became an alpha after I rejected her : she was my Luna. I rejected her. Now she's stronger than ever and she has my son. Amelia's world shattered the day her daughter died-and her mate, Alpha Aiden of the Red Moon Pack, divorced her to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. Cast out, disgraced, and accused of poisoning her own child, Amelia was stripped of her title and driven from her pack. The next morning, her lifeless body was found at the border.They all believed she was dead.But she wasn't. Far from the ashes of betrayal, Amelia rebuilt herself-rising from rejection and ruin to become the first female Alpha of Velaris, the most powerful and respected pack in the realm. She also carried a secret Aiden never discovered:She was pregnant-with his son.Years later, fate brings them face to face once more. A deadly disease is spreading through the packs, and the only one who can stop it is the renowned doctor they thought had died. When Aiden sees the boy at her side-his eyes, his blood-he realizes the truth.He didn't just lose his Luna. He destroyed the mother of his child.And now, she's everything he's not-stronger, wiser, untouchable. Will she heal the pack that betrayed her?Will she ever let him near her heart again?Or is his punishment simply living with the consequences?

Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.

"Anya, a 'wolfless' in a world of powerful werewolves, was invisible, drowning her sorrows and desperately lonely. One drunken text, a desperate cry for attention, accidentally reached the Alpha, pulling her into his terrifying orbit. Now, she's trapped, a pawn in his game, forced to warm his bed while he waits for his true mate, her heart breaking with every stolen moment. As a 'wolfless' in the Blackwood Pack, Anya felt like an outsider, always yearning for a connection. One night, in a drunken haze, a misdirected text meant for her best friend landed in Alpha Declan Blackwood's inbox: ""Send me something hot."" Minutes later, the most powerful, terrifying man in the Pack stood at her door, claiming her with a possessive kiss that ignited a dangerous, unwanted fire. The next morning, his cold indifference shattered her world. Publicly humiliated and instantly fired, Anya became a pariah. Her dying mother's urgent need for a million-dollar heart transplant left her with an impossible choice: accept the Alpha's cold, transactional marriage proposal or watch her mother die. She became his ""placeholder"" wife, a contract, not a partner, all while battling a confusing attraction to the man who treated her as property. Why did he demand her, only to remind her constantly of her worthlessness, especially when everyone knew he waited for his true mate? Her world crumbled when she overheard Declan tell his returning ""true mate,"" Kristin Larsen, that Anya was ""just a substitute."" Despite the crushing betrayal and a strange, unyielding pull, Anya, fueled by her mother's desperate need, vowed to survive this gilded cage and reclaim her life before she lost herself completely."

For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous. Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate. I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry. The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother. He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement. Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother. He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.

I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion. Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed. "Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies." I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor. Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel. Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out. I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years. He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back. Or so he thought. In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling. I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison. "You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back." I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use. "I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge." I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared.

Life was a bed of roses for Debra, the daughter of Alpha. That was until she had a one-night stand with Caleb. She was sure he was her mate as determined by Moon Goddess. But this hateful man refused to accept her. Weeks passed before Debra discovered that she was pregnant. Her pregnancy brought shame to her and everyone she loved. Not only was she driven out, but her father was also hunted down by usurpers. Fortunately, she survived with the help of the mysterious Thorn Edge Pack. Five years passed and Debra didn't hear anything from Caleb. One day, their paths crossed again. They were both on the same mission-carrying out secret investigations in the dangerous Roz Town for the safety and posterity of their respective packs. Caleb was still cold toward her. But as time went on, he fell head over heels in love with her. He tried to make up for abandoning her, but Debra wasn't having any of it. She was hell-bent on hiding her daughter from him and also making a clean break. What did the future hold for the two as they journeyed in Roz Town? What kind of secrets would they find? Would Caleb win Debra's heart and get to know his lovely daughter? Find out!

I gave him three years of silent devotion behind a mask I never wanted to wear. I made a wager for our bond-he paid me off like a mistress. "Chloe's back," Zane said coldly. "It's over." I laughed, poured wine on his face, and walked away from the only love I'd ever known. "What now?" my best friend asked. I smiled. "The real me returns." But fate wasn't finished yet. That same night, Caesar Conrad-the Alpha every wolf feared-opened his car door and whispered, "Get in." Our gazes collided. The bond awakened. No games. No pretending. Just raw, unstoppable power. "Don't regret this," he warned, lips brushing mine. But I didn't. Because the mate I'd been chasing never saw me. And the one who did? He's ready to burn the world for me.