Betrayal Under Full Moon

The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of our new pack house as I made my way through Marco's private study, organizing the last of our belongings. Cardboard boxes lined the mahogany shelves, their contents waiting to be sorted and stored in their proper places. As Luna, it was my responsibility to ensure our new home reflected the dignity and order befitting an Alpha's residence. I lifted a heavy wooden chest from behind Marco's desk, surprised by its weight. The brass lock had long since tarnished, and when I tried the lid, it opened with a soft creak. What I found inside made my blood run cold. Maps. Hundreds upon hundreds of territorial maps, each one carefully folded and marked with precise dates spanning fifteen years. My hands trembled as I pulled them out, one after another, spreading them across Marco's desk. Every single map bore the same location circled in red ink—the territory belonging to Nola Pierce.

Chapters

Chapter 1

I lifted a heavy wooden chest from behind Marco's desk, surprised by its weight. The brass lock had long since tarnished, and when I tried the lid, it opened with a soft creak. What I found inside made my blood run cold.

Maps. Hundreds upon hundreds of territorial maps, each one carefully folded and marked with precise dates spanning fifteen years. My hands trembled as I pulled them out, one after another, spreading them across Marco's desk. Every single map bore the same location circled in red ink—the territory belonging to Nola Pierce.

"One thousand, three hundred, and fourteen," I whispered, counting the final map with growing horror. Fifteen years of obsessive documentation, each map meticulously labeled with dates that corresponded to significant moments in our relationship. Our mating ceremony. The anniversaries of my miscarriages. Pack celebrations. Every important day in our lives, Marco had been marking Nola's territory.

My Luna instincts screamed danger as I examined the maps more closely. The red circles weren't just casual markings—they were drawn with the precision of someone who had studied every boundary, every landmark, every strategic advantage of that territory. This wasn't the casual interest of an Alpha monitoring a pack member's welfare. This was obsession.

The sound of Marco's footsteps in the hallway made me quickly gather the maps, my heart pounding. I managed to stuff most of them back into the chest before he appeared in the doorway, his dark eyes immediately focusing on the scattered papers still visible on his desk.

"Ivy." His voice carried a warning edge that I'd never heard directed at me before. "What are you doing with those?"

I straightened, drawing on my Luna authority to keep my voice steady. "I was organizing your study and found this collection. Marco, why do you have over a thousand maps of Nola's territory? Maps dating back fifteen years?"

His jaw tightened, and he moved to the desk, beginning to gather the remaining maps with possessive urgency. "They're nothing. Just... territorial documentation. Standard Alpha protocol."

"Standard protocol?" I couldn't keep the disbelief from my voice. "Marco, you've been mapping her territory since before she even joined our pack. Some of these are from when you were still a rogue."

"Drop it, Ivy." The command in his voice made my wolf bristle with indignation. He was using his Alpha tone on me—his mate, his Luna.

"I will not drop it." I stepped closer, my own authority rising to meet his. "You owe me an explanation. What is your relationship with Nola Pierce?"

Marco's hands stilled on the maps, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—guilt, perhaps, or fear. But when he looked up at me, his expression had hardened into the mask I'd been seeing more and more frequently over the past months.

"Nola saved my life when I was a rogue," he said, his tone clipped and final. "She deserves my protection. That's all there is to it."

"Protection that requires mapping her territory over a thousand times?" I reached for one of the maps, but Marco's hand shot out, gripping my wrist with enough force to make me wince.

"I said drop it." His eyes flashed with an anger I'd never seen directed at me in fifteen years of marriage. "Nola is under my protection, and that's the end of this conversation."

I pulled my wrist free, my Luna wolf snarling at the disrespect. "Don't you ever grab me like that again, Marco Rivera. I am your mate and your Luna, not some subordinate you can dismiss."

But he was already turning away, gathering the chest and its damning contents. "This discussion is over. We have pack business to attend to."

As he strode from the room, leaving me standing among the scattered evidence of his obsession, I felt something fundamental shift inside me. The mate bond that had once felt like an unbreakable golden thread now felt tainted, corrupted by secrets and lies.

I sank into his leather chair, my mind racing. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of believing in our bond, in his devotion, while he'd been secretly obsessing over another woman's territory. The maps weren't just documentation—they were a shrine to someone else, carefully maintained while I'd been losing pregnancy after pregnancy, growing weaker with each loss.

My Luna instincts had never failed me before, and they were screaming now that this was only the beginning of what I would discover about my mate's betrayal.

Continue to next part

"You think he owns you? No, mi alma. You were made for me, every breath, every scream.” After June’s billionaire husband Axel Grey, humiliated and abandoned her for his mistress, she meets Levi Stark: a stranger dangerously intoxicating, and nothing like her cold ex. He doesn't just want her body, he wants her to be his. When a letter threatens her life, she’s pulled into a web of danger, obsession, and love that cuts deep. He wants her heart. He wants her soul. ‎But someone wants her dead. June must choose: the monster who hurt her or the one who might never let her go.

Billionaire Mystery Romance

9.8

My Boyfriend’s Mistress Tried to Pay Me Off

9.8

The cake was small, a simple vanilla sponge from the bakery on the corner of 5th and 9th. I carried it like a fragile secret, the cardboard box cool against my palms. It was my twenty-fourth birthday, and for five years, I’d played the part of the struggling girlfriend in this cramped Brooklyn walkup. I’d clipped coupons, worn thrift-store sweaters, and let Scott believe our biggest luxury was a shared order of takeout Thai. I did it because I wanted to know—truly know—that I was loved for the girl who walked Biscuit in the rain, not for the girl whose last name opened doors at the Plaza. The stairs creaked under my boots. I reached our door, fumbling for my key, a smile already tugging at my lips. I imagined the lights would be off, Scott waiting with a cheap bottle of wine and that crooked grin that used to make my heart skip. The apartment was dark, but not silent. A blue glow bled out from the bedroom, casting long, sickly shadows across the scuffed hardwood of the living room.

Modern Mystery Romance

8.9

Revenge on Deceitful Spouse

8.9

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of Little Dreams, casting golden light across the pristine white displays. I ran my fingers over the delicate woodwork of a crib, imagining my baby's tiny fingers curling around the rail. Six months pregnant, I'd spent weeks searching for the perfect nursery furniture, and this piece—with its hand-carved details and soft finish—was finally it. "This would be perfect in the corner of the nursery," I murmured to myself, my free hand resting protectively over my swollen belly. "You'd have plenty of room to grow." The sales associate smiled warmly. "It's one of our most popular designs, Mrs. Henderson. The craftsmanship is exceptional." I nodded, already picturing Luke's face when he saw it. After years of trying—of disappointment and tears—this pregnancy had been a miracle. Luke had cried when we found out, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.

Modern Mystery Romance

7.2

Rising From The Ashes Of Betrayal

7.2

I spent my whole life trying to fit into the "Kensington aesthetic," dyeing my hair blonde and playing dumb just to earn a crumb of my father's approval. But when the manor went up in flames, I realized I was never a daughter to them-I was just an inconvenience. I lay pinned under a heavy oak beam, the smell of copper and burnt sugar filling my lungs. My father, Arthur, stood in the doorway with my brothers, looking like a phalanx of saviors, but their eyes weren't on me. They rushed past my outstretched, bloody hand to save my sister, Karly, who was huddled in a corner without a scratch on her. My brother Archer scooped her up like spun glass, stepping over my crushed leg without a second glance. Just before they crossed the threshold, Karly looked back at me and smiled-a small, victorious, terrifying smile. My father didn't offer help; he just shouted that I was an arsonist and slammed the door, sentencing me to burn alive in my own bedroom. As the crystal chandelier melted and crashed toward me, I didn't feel fear anymore. I felt a guttural, distilled hate for the family that left me to die because of a lie. I had spent my life begging for scraps at a table that was never meant for me, and I died realizing they never loved me at all. "If I come back," I promised into the void, "I will burn you all down." I gasped for air and woke up in my bed, the smell of lavender replacing the smoke. It was September 14th, five years before the fire, the exact week I had started ruining myself to please them. I looked in the mirror, scrubbed off the pathetic makeup mask, and realized the old, desperate Kala was dead. If I was going to burn, I'd make sure they were the ones who felt the heat first. "Queen is back online," I whispered.

Modern Mystery

9.3

Secuestrada por el árabe 2

9.3

¿Qué haces cuando tu vida cambia drásticamente? Te sientes perdido y no sabes que hacer ante lo que viene. Ahmed jamás imaginó que su vida daría un giro de esa magnitud, Aisha es el amor de su vida, tiene una vida feliz junto a ella y sus hijos, ahora el pasado ha regresado, y él no sabe que hacer ante eso, se encuentra entre la espada y la pared, entre dos mujeres, dividido por completo entre el pasado y el presente. Aisha cree que su mundo perfecto se está derrumbando, estaba segura del amor de su esposo, jamás hubiera pensado que podría perderlo, pero ahora el miedo la invade, si quiere permanecer junto a él, tendrá que aceptar leyes y situaciones que considera degradantes, se verá envuelta de nuevo en extrañas tradiciones, pero tiene una gran ventaja, la mujer que antes fue su mayor enemiga, ahora es su gran aliada. Lyna ha decidido regresar después de todos esos años, piensa recuperar lo que cree que le pertenece por derecho, luchara por lograrlo, y por poner a sus hijos en el lugar que merecen.

Modern Mystery Romance

8.2

The Canary Who Learned To Fly

8.2

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him—my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London—an exile disguised as a severance package—I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

Horror Mafia Mystery

Betrayal Under Full Moon

Chapter 1

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