Follow
Chapters
Share
After the Beta Killed Our Unborn Pup Novel Cover

After the Beta Killed Our Unborn Pup

On Christmas Eve, Maeve Richards, the Gamma of our pack and Jay’s childhood friend, deliberately burned my hand with a sparkler. She didn’t apologize afterward. Instead, she goaded Jay to lock me up in the abandoned church on the outskirts of the territory, claiming it was a test from the Moon Goddess to ensure the continuation of our bloodline. I begged Jay, my mate and the Beta of the pack, to take me back, pleading that I was two months pregnant. But he didn’t believe me. "Evelynn," he said, his voice cold and detached, "the future of this pack depends on us. Just stay there for one night, for me." With that, he turned and left with Maeve, never once looking back. Later, when his family scattered the ashes of our pup, it only drove them further into madness. By the time I stumbled down the hill, the bloodstains on my pants had dried. Finally, my phone found a signal.
Chapters
Share

Chapter 1

On Christmas Eve, Maeve Richards, the Gamma of our pack and Jay’s childhood friend, deliberately burned my hand with a sparkler. She didn’t apologize afterward. Instead, she goaded Jay to lock me up in the abandoned church on the outskirts of the territory, claiming it was a test from the Moon Goddess to ensure the continuation of our bloodline. I begged Jay, my mate and the Beta of the pack, to take me back, pleading that I was two months pregnant. But he didn’t believe me. "Evelynn," he said, his voice cold and detached, "the future of this pack depends on us. Just stay there for one night, for me." With that, he turned and left with Maeve, never once looking back. Later, when his family scattered the ashes of our pup, it only drove them further into madness.

By the time I stumbled down the hill, the bloodstains on my pants had dried. Finally, my phone found a signal. I dialed Jay’s number, my teeth clenched so tightly my jaw ached. When he answered, his furious voice boomed into my ear, "Evelynn, what nonsense are you spouting now? You scared Maeve so much last night she’s been running a fever, and you were hiding in that church like it was nothing!"

His words left me speechless with anger. "Jay, you’re heartless! You left me alone in that church, in the middle of nowhere. I could’ve died there!" The pain in my palm made me wince. Looking down, I saw blisters from Maeve’s sparkler burns—still hoping for an apology, yet she played the victim, claiming I had terrified her.

What hurt more was my mate’s lack of support. Not only did he fail to stand by me, but he had joined Maeve in locking me up. A sharp pain twisted in my abdomen, relentless and cruel. I bit my lip hard, holding back tears, and managed to say, "Jay, come get me and take me to the healer. The baby... the baby isn’t going to make it..."

On the other end, Jay seemed frozen, and after a brief silence, his voice grew colder, piercing my soul like ice. "Evelynn, stop pretending. Just last month, I remember you had your cycle. What game are you playing now, pretending to be pregnant?"

"Jay, I beg you." I broke down in sobs, tears and mucus smearing my face. "Please, save me, save our child..."

My cries traveled through the phone, leaving Jay silent for a long time. Just as I dared to hope, I heard Maeve’s voice, dripping with feigned innocence, "Jay, Evelynn’s pulled this act countless times. It’s Christmas Day. Please, spend more time with me."

Fooled? A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. Every time I fell ill, Jay barely glanced at me before Maeve would call him away with some excuse or another. I fought to keep my emotions in check, using every ounce of strength I had left. "Jay, I’m asking you one last time. Are you coming or not?"

After a long pause, he finally said, "Maeve is hurt. She needs my care. You’ll have to walk back on your own."

In that moment, I felt as if I’d plunged into an icy hell, shivering from the cold. I said nothing more and hung up resolutely. Mechanically, I dialed the emergency number for the pack’s healer. As my phone screen lit up, an update from Maeve’s social media caught my eye.

A collage of nine photos, each of her and Jay in intimate poses, sickeningly sweet. The caption read: "Jay Wilson, this marks the twenty-seventh Christmas we’ve spent together. May we never part in all the years to come." Below, Jay’s comment stung like a thorn: "The last second of the old year is you, the first second of the new year is you, and all my days are with you."

Reading this, a cold smile crept onto my lips, chilling me to the bone. I forced myself to leave a comment under her post: "So sweet. I hope you two will never break apart."

Warm waves of liquid continued to gush from deep inside me. I clutched my abdomen, murmuring softly, "Baby, I’m sorry. It’s Mom’s fault for not protecting you." Tears blurred my vision as my consciousness began to drift.

In a daze, I seemed to see my baby transform into a tiny wolf pup, its fur soft and white, gently nuzzling me before slowly disappearing into the darkness. My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, a sound of pure sorrow and loss.

You may also like

After My Husband Took My Eyes, I Fled Novel Cover
9.1
Pain. That was all I knew as consciousness crept back into my world of darkness. My head throbbed with a dull ache that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat. I reached out instinctively, searching for Jonathan's warmth beside me, but my fingers found only cold sheets. Three days. It had been three days since the rogue attack that had stolen my sight. Three days of drifting in and out of consciousness, of Jonathan's gentle reassurances that everything would be okay, that we would get through this together. I pushed myself up, wincing as pain shot through my body. Something felt wrong. Different.
An heir from my rejected mate Novel Cover
8.2
Blurb: In a world filled with love, betrayal and hate, Fate surpasses all. Dana Greene thought her Future was sealed with Alden packer , the Alpha of the werewolf pack, but then Alden falsely accused her and rejected her. She was banished and left alone.Finding livelihood In another pack. Now a mysterious illness weakens Alden and the only one who can save him is the mate he pushed away. By fate,Dana must decide: whether to save him and regain her position as the true Luna of her pack or move on with her new life . Will she save the Alpha who betrayed her or will she allow him lose everything?
Betrayed by the Alpha's Heart Novel Cover
8.9
Jaliyah and I both mated into the Martinez pack, and soon after, we were blessed with pups growing within us. I was mated to Francis Martinez, the pack’s skilled healer, while Jaliyah tied her bond with Quentin Martinez, a Delta warrior in our pack. Three years into our mate bonds, Idris, my father-in-law, was escorting me to a prenatal checkup when we were struck by a rogue-driven vehicle. With Idris critically injured and me bleeding heavily, I frantically tried to mind-link Francis, but his childhood friend, Alena, intercepted the connection. "Francis is here with me; what do you need?" she replied, her voice dripping with false sweetness. Exhausted and terrified, I begged her to pass the connection to Francis. "Please, the accident was serious. Idris and I—I’m scared for the pup." Francis’s voice crackled through the link, laced with irritation. "Alena cut her hand with a kitchen knife; I’m tending to her wound. Do you have to curse my father like this?" He severed the connection, and when I tried to reach him again, his mind-link was blocked.
Brenda’s Second Life Novel Cover
8.3
I died during the winter of my fiftieth wedding anniversary. In the ICU, the monitors screamed a relentless, piercing alarm. Through the glass, I saw the man I’d spent half a century with—Gabriel. Once hailed as the most promising engineer at the machinery plant, he now had hair gone stark white. Beside him stood our son, Joseph. A doctor was speaking to them. I read the man’s lips: “…there’s no point anymore.” Gabriel nodded without hesitation. In that moment, I felt no pain, no cold—just a vast, hollow absurdity. I watched him pick up a pen to sign the DNR form. He paused, brow furrowed, as if wrestling with some monumental problem. Finally, with a look of impatience and utter confusion, he turned to our son. “What… what was your mother’s name again?” … What was my name? My name was Brenda. A name he’d never carried in his heart, a name he’d replaced for fifty years with “hey” or “the boy’s mother.” As my soul finally tore free, I saw him—prompted by our son—tremble as he finally wrote those three characters. And beside him, Sophia—the “girl next door” he’d spent a lifetime tending to—gently patted his back in silent comfort. How utterly pathetic. My whole life, I’d kept his house and cooked his meals. I’d abandoned my family’s legacy for him, endured the sneers for marrying beneath my station, borne his children, and kept his home for half a century. And in the end, in his heart, I was nobody. A nameless ghost. If there is a next life… no. I don’t want a next life. Let it all end. Let it be swallowed by this endless dark. The sharp scent of disinfectant flooded my nostrils. I jolted, eyes flying open. Above me hung a mottled, yellowing ceiling; an ancient ceiling fan squeaked in persistent rhythm. This wasn’t the ICU. I sat up sharply. A dull ache radiated from my lower abdomen—a raw reminder of the birth I’d just endured. Looking down at my own body, weak yet vibrantly alive, my mind went blank. “You’re awake? Good. Get up. Gabriel’s been waiting outside forever. Need to go register the baby.” That sharp, familiar voice cut through the silence. My mother-in-law. The woman who’d never offered me a kind look or word. Gabriel… Gabriel. I turned my head stiffly, eyes finding the calendar by the bed. July 12, 1981. I was back. I had come back to the third day after giving birth to my son, Joseph—back to another pivotal moment in my tragic life. My heart hammered against my ribs, not with joy, but with a tidal wave of hatred and dread. The scene from my deathbed—my husband’s voice asking, *What was your mother’s name again?*—remained, a poisoned blade twisted in my soul.
Moonpetal Whispers: My Second Chance Love Novel Cover
7.2
Ryker Vance, future Alpha, was on quiet evening patrol when Kian Sterling's panicked mind-link sliced his calm. Annoyed, he headed to the Healer's den, thick with Kian's distress. Kian stammered, "Elian Thorne. He fell. From the sacred cliff." Ryker dismissed it as a clumsy Omega accident, but as he reached the door, a weak, intimate thought slipped into his mind: *"Go home, Ryker."* It was Elian, a low-ranking Omega he barely knew, commanding him. Confused, Ryker left. His wolf restless, his gaze fell on a neglected moonpetal, Elian's gift, now limp. He woke to an absolute silence, a profound void. The moonpetal was gone, just grey dust. At Elian's funeral, unbearable grief struck. Memories crashed: Elian's mate offering, his "I love you" dismissed, Ryker's ignored warnings of soul-withering. Elian was his *mate*, and Ryker had caused his death. The word *Mate* branded his soul. Consumed by absolute regret, clutching Elian's ashes, Ryker screamed to the empty sky: "Give him back! Give me a chance. Please." The world dissolved. He opened his eyes to a training ground, vibrant, years younger. Then he saw him. Across the field, practicing drills, was a younger, healthier Elian, alive. Ryker walked straight to him, took Elian's hand, and with every eye on them, declared, "He's your future Luna."
Reborn Heiress: Dragging Traitors To Hell Novel Cover
8.7
The world was a symphony of agony, played on the strings of my own body. I was tied to a chair in a damp basement, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth as my fingernails were ripped from their beds by a pair of rusty pliers. My best friend, Corrine, stepped into the flickering light wearing my favorite Chanel suit and the engagement ring that was supposed to be mine. Beside her, my fiancé Aldo held the pliers, his voice smooth and cultured as he demanded I sign over my entire inheritance to them. As I struggled, a news report flashed on an old TV in the corner: Hunter Gallagher, the man I had treated like dirt but who had always tried to protect me, was dead in a horrific car explosion. Corrine laughed, whispering in my ear that they had lured him to his death using a fake kidnapping tip. He died trying to save me from a trap set by the people I trusted most. They didn't just want my money; they wanted to erase me. They plunged a needle full of heroin into my neck, watching with cold, mocking eyes as my heart hammered against my ribs and finally seized into nothingness. I died in that basement, a blind, spoiled girl who had let her true protector be murdered. As the darkness closed in, my soul burned with a single, silent vow: If I ever get another life, I will drag you both to hell with me. Suddenly, I gasped for air, my lungs fighting against a weight that wasn't there. I wasn't in the basement; I was in my own bed, my fingernails intact and my skin unbroken. I checked my phone, and my heart stopped—it was May 20th, exactly one year before my death. Hunter was still alive, and this time, I wasn't the prey.