Beyond The Empty Altar, My Reign
I stood alone at the marble altar, the silence of the temple pressing against my eardrums.
It was my Mating Ceremony, but the groom was missing.
My phone buzzed with a notification: a livestream of my mate, Alpha Cain, skipping our union to welcome my sister, Eris, home.
In the video, he held her like she was fragile glass, captioning it: "True power recognizes true power."
When I returned to the Pack House, humiliated, I wasn't met with an apology.
I was met with a slap from my mother.
Eris, feigning a powerful "Alpha Aura," claimed my mere scent was poisoning her.
To "save" her, my family locked me in my room.
But the true betrayal came when I overheard their hushed whispers through the door.
"Use Vera," my mother said, her voice chillingly practical.
"She recovers fast. We can drain her blood weekly for Eris. She can stay as a servant to raise Cain and Eris's pups."
My blood ran cold.
They didn't just neglect me; they planned to harvest me like livestock.
They thought I was the weak Omega they exiled to the North years ago to peel potatoes.
They had no idea that in the North, I wasn't a servant.
I was Commander V, a warrior forged in ice and blood.
I reached under my bed and pulled out my black tactical duffel.
"Screw the meatloaf," I whispered.
I wasn't just leaving. I was going to war.
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Chapter 4
Burn It Down
Vera POV:
I reached the heavy oak front doors. The "WELCOME HOME" banner mocked me one last time.
I reached for the handle.
"You think you can just walk out?"
Dax blocked the door. He held an ice pack to his head. He looked at my bag, then my boots.
"Playing soldier again?" he sneered. "You look ridiculous. Go upstairs and apologize to Mom."
"Move, Dax."
"Or what?" He stepped closer, looming. "You'll hit me? You're an Omega, Vera. Weak. Without this family, you're nothing but Rogue bait."
"I am leaving. Get out of my way."
"No." He crossed his arms. "You're acting out because you're jealous. Because Cain loves Eris. Admit it."
Servants gathered in the hallway, whispering. Guards watched, unsure.
"Cain doesn't love her," I said. "He loves the lie she built."
"He's with her right now!" Dax laughed. "Holding her hand. Praying to the Goddess for her."
I pulled my smartphone out.
"Let's see."
I dialed Eris.
Dax frowned. "She won't answer you."
But she did. Eris loved drama too much to ignore a call from the sister she was framing.
"Hello?" Her voice was weak, breathy.
I hit speakerphone. Held it high.
"Eris. Dax says Cain is praying for you."
A giggle. Then a wet, smacking sound. A kiss.
"Oh, he's doing more than praying," Eris purred. Her voice suddenly stronger, the 'dying' act dropped for a moment of gloating. "He's peeling me an apple. Aren't you, baby?"
Cain's voice rumbled in the background. "Here, open up. You need your strength."
The servants gasped.
"Vera," Eris continued, tone dripping with poison. "Don't be mad. I told you, he needs a real woman. A Luna. You can still live in the attic if you want. I'll need someone to wash my silk robes."
Dax's face went white.
"Did you hear that, Dax?" I asked, voice echoing in the marble foyer. "Did you hear the 'dying' Alpha female?"
"Eris..." Dax whispered.
"Oops," Eris laughed. "Is Dax there? Tell him to bring more wine. The doctor left."
I ended the call.
The silence was deafening. The servants stared at the floor, embarrassed to witness the naked cruelty of their masters.
Dax looked like he'd been slapped. The illusion of the "tragic emergency" was shattered. Eris wasn't dying; she was flirting and drinking wine while her sister was accused of attempted murder.
"She... she's delirious," Dax stammered, unconvincing.
"She is a fraud," I said. "And you are a fool."
I stepped forward. Dax instinctively stepped back.
"I am leaving the Asheville Pack," I announced to the room. To the witnesses.
"But... you can't," Dax said. "Where will you go?"
"Home."
"This is your home!"
"No. This is a cage."
I pushed past him. He didn't stop me. He was too busy processing the humiliation of his precious sister exposing herself on speakerphone.
I pushed the doors open. The night air rushed in, smelling of pine and rain.
I walked down the steps to my battered jeep—bought with my own wages from the Outpost.
As I reached the driveway, my phone buzzed. A text from my mother.
Get back inside now. You are embarrassing us.
I threw the phone onto the gravel.
I lifted my boot and brought it down hard. Screen shattered. Metal crunched.
I got into my jeep, throwing the tactical bag onto the passenger seat.
I started the engine. It roared to life—a rough, mechanical beast.
I didn't look in the rearview mirror. I hit the highway and turned North.
Vespa threw back her head in my mind and howled.
Free, she sang. We are free.
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8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
8.9
Seventeen-year-old Nina Storm has spent her life running from her tragic past, her dormant wolf, and the dreams of a mysterious man she can't escape.
Raised by her protective father after her mother's death, she has never stayed in one place long enough to call it home. But everything changed when they return to their home, the Moonlight Pack.
Nina discovers that her mate is Zane, the pack's Alpha... a bond that defies werewolf laws and the pack's expectations. Their undeniable attraction is dangerous, and their bond threatens to disrupt the fragile balance of power within the pack.
When an attack on the pack shatters her world, Nina loses everything, including her life. But death isn't the end.
Reborn, her dormant wolf awakens giving her a newfound strength and powers, Nina must navigate a world of betrayal, love, and vengeance as she unravels the truth about her family, her mate bond, and the danger threatening to destroy everything she holds dear.
7.9
Hannah came home under a false identity, ready to keep her head down and avoid trouble. Then a near-drowning opened her eyes, and the family she had wanted gave her nothing but disappointment.
She severed every tie, shed the disguise, and rose in revenge as a miracle doctor, brilliant hacker, and feared underworld ruler. Shock followed her family at every turn.
Her parents regretted everything. Her eldest brother clung desperately to the bond of their shared blood, while her second brother gave up his entire fortune just to earn her forgiveness. Her third brother offered up his own body for a surgery-all to save her.
But Hannah stayed cold and built her empire alone. Only one deadly rival refused to be ignored.
"I was hired to kill you, mister."
"Then take my heart, too."
8.6
Lilac Stone once wanted nothing more than being unnoticed. But everything changed the moment she met Adrian Cole, the new lecturer.
He's distant and completely off-limits. She's quiet, guarded, and unprepared for the way he sees right through her.
What begins as harmless conversations after class quickly turns into something far more dangerous-something neither of them can stop no matter how hard they try.
But then they're living in a world where rules are meant to be followed, and their connection is one line they were never supposed to cross.
Whispers turn to accusations. Secrets are exposed. Their futures are at risk.
They are merely two opposites-a lecturer and a student, a male and a female-but they are bound to destroy each other as long as they are huddled in one space at the same time.
What then can they choose: forfeit their futures and embrace their happiness, or let the latter slip while keeping their careers intact?
7.1
To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive.
But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory.
Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky."
That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead.
But I survived.
Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness.
I took back what was mine.
"I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."
7.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."