Bound to an Alpha Who Hates Me
I arrived at the Blackwood Pack House as the bride in an arranged marriage, a political pawn meant to secure an alliance with their Alpha, Grayson Wilder.
His family treated me like trash from the moment I walked in. His sister then deliberately sent me to the wrong room-the Alpha's private chambers.
When Grayson found me in his bed, he didn't ask questions. He shoved me to the floor, his eyes glowing with rage as he accused me of being a social climber trying to trap him. His mother and sister watched from the doorway, their faces alight with triumph, ready to see me torn apart.
They had no idea I was there to save them, a secret deal made with the elders to prevent their pack from collapsing. I was the one with the power, hiding my true identity for their sake, yet they treated me like a stray dog who had wandered into their pristine home.
But when he truly looked at me, his rage faltered, replaced by shocked recognition.
He saw a ghost from a past he couldn't remember.
And I knew this war wasn't just for my survival, but for a truth he was terrified to face.
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Chapter 3
Amiyah POV
The satisfaction of seeing Cassidy’s face turn purple was sweet, but short-lived. As I turned on my heel to leave, her shock morphed into a screech that clawed at my eardrums.
"Don't you walk away from me!" Cassidy lunged forward, though she didn't dare touch me. Her voice echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling of the hallway. "You think you've won just because you warmed his bed for a night? He will never *Mark* you! He's going to *Reject* you the moment he gets the chance, you stray!"
I paused, my hand tightening on the strap of my bag. My Inner Wolf growled low in my chest, urging me to snap back, to show this pup her place. But before I could open my mouth, the heavy oak door behind us flew open with a force that shook the floorboards.
A wave of power, cold and suffocating, slammed into the corridor. It was pure Alpha command.
Grayson stood in the doorway, a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his chest heaving. The golden light in his eyes hadn't fully faded, swirling with a storm of irritation.
"Is there a reason," Grayson’s voice was dangerously quiet, "that you are screeching like a dying cat outside my door, Cassidy?"
Cassidy shrank back, her earlier bravado dissolving instantly. She paled, pressing herself against the wall. "Gray, I... she was just—"
"Leave," he barked.
Cassidy scrambled away without another word. Grayson’s gaze then snapped to me. It was heavy, physical, like a hand gripping my throat. He was searching for something—fear, perhaps, or submission.
I gave him neither. I simply adjusted my bag, met his burning stare with a cool nod, and walked away toward the guest wing.
*
The tension didn't dissipate; it merely changed venues.
An hour later, I sat at the massive polished oak table in the Pack’s dining hall. The room smelled of old money and judgment. Georgiana Wilder, the former Luna, sat at the head of the table, slicing into her grapefruit with surgical precision.
"A proper future Luna," Georgiana began without looking up, "would have been awake at dawn to inspect the warriors' training. Sleeping in is a human habit, not one befitting the Blackwood Pack."
I unfolded my napkin, placing it on my lap. Across the table, Grayson was drinking black coffee, his eyes glued to a tablet, ignoring us both.
"I am here per Elder Douglas's arrangement, Mrs. Wilder," I replied, my voice steady. "I wasn't aware I was auditioning for the role of Pack housekeeper. My duties will be defined by my Alpha, not by the traditions of the past."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass. Georgiana’s knife screeched against her plate. Grayson didn't look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched—whether in annoyance or amusement, I couldn't tell.
As breakfast concluded in suffocating silence, I moved to leave. Georgiana intercepted me near the archway, her face a mask of faux benevolence.
"Wait," she said, sliding a sleek black credit card across the sideboard toward me. "Take this. Go buy some decent clothes. The Luna of Blackwood cannot be seen wearing... whatever this is. You look like a Rogue."
I looked at the card, then at her. The insult was wrapped in charity, designed to make me feel small, indebted.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. A notification flashed on the screen: *Bank Transfer Received: $50,000,000.00.*
Immediately, a familiar, gruff voice echoed in my mind, bypassing the physical distance between us.
*Have fun, my little wolf. Don't let them think we Holloway wolves can't afford a skirt.*
My grandfather, Alpha Ashton of the Silvermoon Pack. A smile tugged at my lips.
"Thank you for the offer, Georgiana," I said softly, sliding my phone back into my pocket. I didn't touch the card. "But I think I can manage without the Pack's charity for now."
I walked past her, leaving her staring at my back, mouth slightly agape.
*
The drive to the Wilder Group headquarters was a different kind of torture.
The interior of the Alpha’s SUV was a sealed capsule of sensory overload. The air was thick with Grayson’s scent—cedar, rain, and that underlying spice that made my mouth water despite my hatred for him. My scent, jasmine and forest pine, mingled with his, creating a heady cocktail that made the air feel electric.
Grayson sat in the back seat beside me, his long legs cramping the space. He hadn't spoken a word since we left the estate, but the aggression rolling off him was palpable.
"Do not think I don't know what you're doing," he finally said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the leather seat.
I turned to look at him. "And what am I doing, Alpha?"
"This secretary act," he sneered, turning his predatory gaze on me. "You think if you play the submissive employee, if you force your way into my daily life, I'll eventually give in to the bond? You think you can trap me?"
I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You really are self-absorbed, aren't you? Let me make this clear, Grayson. I am fulfilling a contract. Three months. That is all I agreed to with Elder Douglas. The moment that clock runs out, the engagement is off, and I will be gone. I won't stay a second longer."
Grayson’s eyes narrowed, the gold flecks flaring. My rejection of him—of the bond—clearly stung his Alpha pride more than he wanted to admit.
"Three months?" He leaned in closer, invading my space until his breath fanned across my cheek. "I bet you won't last three weeks before you're begging me to claim you."
My heart hammered against my ribs, betraying me, but I held his gaze. "Then you are going to lose that bet. I will never love an arrogant, rude Alpha like you."
Grayson pulled back, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips.
"*We will see about that,*" he murmured, the challenge hanging heavy in the air between us.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the towering glass skyscraper of the Wilder Group. The battlefield had shifted, but the war was far from over.
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7.0
She was desperate. He was merciless.
Liana Moore's sister's life is on the line, and the only person who can save her is Dominic Vale-the man who destroyed her family years ago.
One year. One marriage. One chance to survive.
Dominic is cold, controlling, and unforgiving. Liana is fierce, stubborn, and trapped in a union built on hatred and power.
But when secrets are revealed and the line between punishment and protection blurs, the fire between them becomes impossible to ignore.
In a marriage never meant to exist, love is the most dangerous risk of all.
8.8
My father bailed a violent ex-con out of prison just to force me into a marriage with him. I stood in a filthy Bronx hallway, my Vera Wang gown dragging through the grime, knowing this was the price for my mother’s life. If I didn't marry the man behind the steel door, the wire transfer for her hospital ventilator wouldn't go through the next morning.
The man, a scarred giant named Dock, treated me with cold contempt, telling me he didn't touch things he didn't want—and he didn't want a "Jacobson." I thought I had hit rock bottom, tied to a criminal while my family lived in luxury. But the nightmare was just beginning.
When I tried to return my wedding dress to pay for rent, my sister Janie and stepmother found me. They laughed as security dragged me out of the boutique, calling me a "charity case." When I finally crawled back to our family manor to beg for the money my father had promised, Janie revealed the horrific truth. She had liquidated my mother’s medical trust to fund a waterfront real estate project.
"Get out and let your mother rot," she screamed, throwing a glass of ice water in my face before having guards dump me in the dirt. I knelt on the gravel, wet and bleeding, realizing my own flesh and blood had signed my mother's death warrant for a profit. I had nothing left—no money, no home, and a husband who was supposed to be a monster.
I didn't understand why they hated me so much, or how I would survive the night. But then, a black car screeched to a halt in front of me. Dock pulled me inside, his eyes burning with a lethal coldness I’d never seen in a common thug.
As he wiped the blood from my hands, he picked up a encrypted phone and gave a single command.
"Initiate Project Titan. I want the Jacobson Group insolvent by Friday."
I looked at the man I thought was a broke felon, realizing I hadn't just married a stranger—I had married the most dangerous man in the city, and he was about to burn my family's world to the ground.
9.2
For eight years, I was the perfect, understanding wife. My husband, Gavin, insisted his company retreats were strictly for employees. No spouses allowed. I never questioned it, believing I was supporting his demanding career.
Then I saw a photo from his last ski trip to Aspen. All his colleagues were there, smiling beside their wives. And in the center stood Gavin, his arm wrapped possessively around another woman. She was wearing my blue silk dress-the one he swore I must have lost at the dry cleaners.
My world didn't just crack; it shattered. I discovered that for our entire marriage, he had been living a double life. This woman, Chanelle, wasn't just his mistress. She was his public wife.
She was the one who went on lavish trips to Hawaii and Europe. She was the one introduced to his colleagues and clients. She was even listed as his emergency contact-his spouse-in the official company directory.
I wasn't just the wife he cheated on. I was the wife he completely erased.
But my heartbreak quickly hardened into cold resolve. He was expecting tears and a quiet breakdown. He wasn't expecting me to show up at his company's annual awards gala, marriage certificate in hand, ready to introduce myself to the world he' d hidden from me.
8.3
Six years ago, I was a naive girl sold by my father to the powerful Sanders estate, only to be tossed onto the streets after a brutal assault they labeled "marital infidelity." I fled the country pregnant and broken, hiding from the shadow of a husband I had never even met. Now, I've returned to New York with my triplets to sign the final divorce papers and disappear forever.
But Archibald Sanders-the man I was told was a crippled recluse-intercepted us with the cold precision of a predator. He didn't see the woman his family destroyed; he saw a gold-digger who had shamed his name. His security team hunted us to a grimy motel, using tactical force to snatch my children away and drag me to his glass-walled empire.
In his office, he loomed over me, demanding a DNA test and threatening to throw me in prison while my babies were lost to the foster system. He was convinced I'd cheated, yet he stared at my sons with a haunting confusion, unable to ignore the stormy blue eyes that were a perfect mirror of his own. I stood there, paralyzed by his scent-the sharp tang of rain and expensive leather that triggered the icy dread of my worst nightmares.
How could he accuse me of betrayal when he felt exactly like the monster who had shattered my life in that dark hotel room?
"I'll sign anything," I sobbed, "just give me my kids."
But the game changed when my five-year-old son hacked the tower's security, holding the skyscraper hostage to save me. In the chaos, a fragile, silent boy-Archibald's secret son-wandered into the room and reached for me as if I were his missing soul. Archibald's face turned to stone as he tore up the agreement and locked the doors.
"Until I find out why my son is looking at you like that," he growled, "you aren't going anywhere."
9.2
Five years ago, I faked my death in a yacht explosion just to escape my ruthless, controlling husband, Gerald Sinclair. Now, I have returned to Boston as the new Dean of Medicine at St. Jude Hospital.
My only goal was to secretly check on my seven-year-old daughter, Cassidy. But what I saw shattered my heart. She was locked inside a heavily guarded VIP suite like a prisoner, so psychologically broken that she was standing on a windowsill, ready to jump.
Gerald's armed security team treated the hospital like a military base, forcing her to swallow heavy psychiatric pills. When she managed to escape through the air ducts and collapsed into my arms in the courtyard, her small, feverish body trembled violently.
"No! I don't want to go back to the white room!"
She begged me, crying in terror. But because my identity was a secret, I could only watch helplessly as Gerald's security chief tore my own child from my embrace and locked her back in the cage.
I didn't understand why Gerald would rather destroy our daughter's mind than let us go. Was his twisted obsession and need for control worth driving his own flesh and blood to the brink of death?
Now, my cover is blown. Gerald just received the message that I am alive, and he is flying back in a blind rage, freezing my accounts and locking down the entire city to trap me.
But he forgot one thing. I am no longer the helpless wife he backed into a corner. This time, I am taking my daughter back.
7.9
The memory wolf
7.9
"I am not fully human, I am not fully wolf. And I am far from safe."
Ayla has always felt normal, but when a silver-eyed wolf tears through the forest, she discovers powers she can barely control. The wolf inside her hungers, whispers, and fights to take over, and the pack she calls home begin to fear her more than the rogue wolves outside. Ancient symbols begin to surface. Secrets her mother buried resurface.
Hunted by a shadowy predator known only as the Shadow Wolf, Ayla must master her instincts, uncover her origins, and survive a world that refuses to accept her. But every step toward control draws her closer to the dangerous truth: some forces are older, stronger, and deadlier than the pack itself and one of them wants her.