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 2

The revelation of those maps burned in my mind like acid. I couldn't shake the image of Marco's possessive grip on those territorial documents, the way his eyes had flashed with protective fury—not for me, his Luna, but for her.

I paced our bedroom, my wolf clawing at my consciousness, demanding action. The rational part of me whispered caution, but my Luna instincts screamed that I needed to see Nola's territory for myself. If Marco had been obsessing over it for fifteen years, there had to be more than he was telling me.

Without another thought, I stripped off my clothes and let the transformation take me. My bones shifted and reformed as my wolf burst free—a powerful white form that commanded respect even from other Alphas. The change brought clarity, washing away the confusion and hurt to leave only determination.

I bounded through the pack house and into the forest, my paws silent on the pine-needle carpet. The wind carried scents of home territory, but I pushed beyond our borders, following the mental map I'd memorized from Marco's obsessive documentation.

The run took longer than expected, nearly two hours through dense woodland and across three streams. When I finally reached the coordinates that had been circled in red ink over a thousand times, I stopped dead in my tracks.

This was no rogue settlement.

Before me stretched a prosperous pack holding that rivaled our own territory. Well-maintained paths wound between luxury den structures built from local stone and timber. Gardens flourished with late-season vegetables, and I could smell the rich scent of livestock from carefully constructed pens. Clear territorial markers bore the carved symbols of an established pack, not the makeshift boundaries of refugees.

My wolf's hackles rose as the implications hit me. Nola had lied about everything. Her sob story about her struggling rogue family, her desperate need for protection—all fabrications designed to manipulate Marco's protective instincts.

I padded closer to the main den, a sprawling structure that spoke of wealth and stability. Through the windows, I could see comfortable furnishings, woven tapestries, and the warm glow of a well-tended hearth. This wasn't the home of someone who needed saving.

A child's laughter drew my attention to a cleared area where a young boy played with wooden toys. Quincy Pierce—the son Nola claimed needed Marco's protection. He looked healthy and well-fed, his clothes clean and well-made. Nothing about his appearance suggested hardship or danger.

I shifted back to human form behind a cluster of trees and quickly dressed in the spare clothes I'd tied to my leg. My Luna authority would carry more weight in human form for what I needed to do next.

Stepping into the clearing, I called out, "Quincy?"

The boy looked up, his eyes widening with recognition. "Luna Ivy! What are you doing here?"

Interesting. He knew exactly who I was, which meant Nola had been talking about me. "I came to visit. Your mother isn't home?"

"She went to the market in the next territory," Quincy said, abandoning his toys to approach me. "But she'll be back soon. Do you want to wait inside? Uncle Marco says your house is really big, but ours is pretty nice too."

Uncle Marco. The casual familiarity in those words made my chest tighten. "Quincy, I need you to come with me to the pack house. There's something important we need to discuss with your mother."

The boy tilted his head, confusion flickering across his features. "Is something wrong? Uncle Marco was just here yesterday bringing us fresh deer meat. He said everything was fine."

Yesterday. While I'd been organizing our new home, believing my mate was handling pack business, he'd been here playing house with another family.

"Nothing's wrong," I lied smoothly, extending my hand. "But as Luna, I need to make sure all our pack members are properly registered and accounted for. It's just pack business."

Quincy took my hand trustingly, and we began the long journey back through the forest. As we walked, he chattered innocently about his comfortable life, mentioning the new clothes Uncle Marco had brought him last week, the hunting lessons, the bedtime stories.

Each detail was another knife in my heart, but I kept my expression neutral. This child wasn't to blame for the adults' deceptions.

"Luna Ivy?" Quincy's voice was small as we neared pack territory. "Are you sure my mama won't be mad that I left without telling her?"

I squeezed his hand gently. "Don't worry, Quincy. Your mama and I just need to have a very important conversation about honesty."

As the pack house came into view, I steeled myself for what was coming next. The scent recognition would reveal the truth about Quincy's parentage, and with it, expose another layer of Nola's elaborate deception.

My Luna wolf prowled beneath my skin, ready for the confrontation that would finally bring Marco's betrayal into the light.

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 2

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