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The Inter-Pack Alliance Gathering glittered with wealth and power. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the grand ballroom as Alphas, Betas, and their Lunas mingled in their finest attire. I tugged at the hem of my simple blue dress, feeling painfully aware of how it differed from the designer gowns surrounding me. "Just breathe, Destiny," I whispered to myself, adjusting the thin straps of my dress for the third time. "You're here to represent your father's interests, nothing more." My fingers instinctively found the small moonstone pendant hidden beneath my dress. The cool stone against my skin was my only comfort in this sea of wolves who outranked me. As an Omega—the lowest rank in pack hierarchy—I was used to invisibility. But tonight, I needed to be visible enough to fulfill my father's hopes for a potential alliance. "You look lovely," said a passing server, offering me a glass of champagne. "Are you enjoying the gathering?" "Thank you," I replied softly, taking the glass but not drinking.

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across our territory as I watched Ace emerge from the treeline. My heart should have leaped at the sight of my mate returning after three days away, but something cold twisted in my stomach instead. He wasn't alone. Beside him walked a she-wolf I'd never seen before—tall, elegant, with golden hair that caught the dying light like spun silk. Her clothes were expensive, the kind worn by pack royalty, not rogues like us. The way she carried herself spoke of privilege, of a life untouched by the hardships that had shaped our pack. Our pack members gathered in the clearing, their voices dying to whispers as they took in the stranger. I placed a protective hand over my still-flat belly, where our pup grew beneath my heart, and stepped forward. "Pack," Ace's voice carried across the clearing with Alpha authority, but I caught the tension underneath. "I present Dahlia Tucker, daughter of Beta Tucker from the Lycan King's Council." Dahlia inclined her head gracefully, her amber eyes scanning our rough camp with barely concealed disdain.

For five blissful years, I loved Ryder with all my heart. But one day, he just disappeared, leaving me broken and cynical about love. My family's life also fell apart. Dad died in a tragic accident, and my brother, Alex, was framed and jailed. Desperate to free Alex, I latched onto Bran, feigning innocence to exploit his power. Out of the blue, Ryder returned, showering me with affection and vowing to save Alex. But our reunion was short - lived. When I discovered he only pursued me because I resembled his past lover, we split. Just when I foolishly thought we could reclaim our old love, his new fiancée coldly disclosed that it was all a vengeful scheme against Bran. My heart, once again, was shattered into a million pieces.

For seven years, I traded my crown for a quiet life with the man I loved, Harrison. I gave up my kingdom, my family, and my name, believing our love was enough. But on our son Colt's fifth birthday, he publicly announced his engagement to a pregnant socialite, calling their unborn child his "true heir." His mother then stormed into our home, calling my son a "mistake" and a "stain" that needed to be cleansed before her son's new life could begin. My little boy, his heart shattered, looked up at me. "Mama," he whispered, "am I really a mistake?" That's when I remembered I wasn't just a discarded wife. I was a princess who had given up her throne. I picked up the phone and called my father, the king. "I'm coming home," I told him. "And I'm bringing your grandson."

Elena Hart survived the crash. Her memories didn't. When she wakes in a pristine suburban home with a diamond on her finger and a man gripping her hand like she might disappear, she's told a simple truth: He's her husband. They've been married for two years. They're deeply in love. Caleb knows everything about her-how she takes her coffee, the scar on her thigh, the way she hums when she's anxious. The photos lining the walls prove their life together. The neighbours confirm it. Her doctor insists memory loss after trauma is common. So why does her body recoil when he kisses her? And why, every night, does another man visit her in dreams-bleeding, desperate, whispering: You promised you'd run. The dreams aren't romantic. They're frantic. Urgent. As if time is running out. Then Elena finds something she was never meant to see. A locked drawer in Caleb's office. A second wedding ring. A newspaper clipping about her accident-dated three weeks before the crash she remembers. The more she questions, the more Caleb tightens his grip. His patience becomes surveillance. His affection becomes control. Doors begin locking. Her phone disappears. The neighbours stop meeting her eyes. And the dreams start happening while she's awake. A reflection in a window that isn't hers. Footsteps behind her when no one is there. A voice that says, He changed it. He changed everything. What if she wasn't supposed to survive that crash? What if the accident wasn't an accident? As fractured memories return in violent flashes-running through rain, screaming in a dark parking lot, a different man's blood on her hands-Elena is forced to confront a horrifying possibility: She wasn't stolen. She was rewritten. And the man who calls himself her husband didn't just save her life. He erased it. Now she must decide who the real ghost is- The man haunting her dreams... Or the one sleeping beside her. Because this time, if she remembers the truth... One of them won't let her live to tell it.

The rain hadn't stopped all night. Thunder shook the windows of the mansion, but inside Adrian's bedroom, the storm felt smaller than the one raging between them. Lina stood near the fireplace, her red dress clinging to her skin, outlining every part of her feminity, eyes blazing with anger and something far more dangerous. "You don't get to protect me and punish me at the same time," she whispered. Adrian crossed the room slowly, like a predator unsure whether he wanted to devour or surrender. "You think this is punishment?" His voice was low, rough. "Lina, I have been trying not to touch you for weeks." Her breath caught. The air changed. When he reached her, he didn't grab her. He didn't command her. He simply cupped her face as if she were something breakable. That tenderness undid her more than any harsh word ever could. She could feel his hard dick. "You drive me insane," he murmured. "Then let go," she challenged softly. Instead, he kissed her. Not gently. Not carefully. But desperately. All the fear, the accusations, the sleepless nights poured into that kiss. Lina's fingers fisted in his shirt as if she were afraid he would disappear. He backed her toward the wall, his body shielding hers, heat pressing against heat. Grinding hard against each other. She gasped when his mouth moved to her neck, her pulse betraying her. The tension between them snapped-anger turning molten, restraint burning away. Every touch felt like a confession neither of them had been brave enough to say out loud. "I don't hate you," Adrian breathed against her skin, his voice breaking. "God help me, I don't." Lina's hands slid up to his swollen hard dick, forcing him to look at her. "Then stop fighting what's already ours." The world narrowed to skin, breath, and the frantic rhythm of two hearts that had tried to stay apart and failed. He carried her to the bed as if she were both precious and inevitable. The storm outside crashed again, but inside, the silence between their whispered names was louder. This wasn't revenge. This wasn't control. It was surrender. She was wet. He was hard as fuck. "I want you Adrian, I want to feel you inside of me." She said panting. He slid his hands into her panties, his fingers playing with her clit. She screamed his name while his fingers slid from her clit right into her wet pussy. He worked his way with his middle finger into her pussy, pulling in and out, circling back and forth. She was panting his name," Ohh Adrian, whatever your doing to me,don't stop." "Ah...fuck me Adrian, I want you to fuck me real hard." She said, holding the hand in her tightly, moving her waist in rhythm, and as she was about to orgasm,he stopped abruptly, putting her more in need. "What...why did you stop?" She asked in between kisses. "I don't want it to end so fast." He replied taking off her dress. "I want to feel your wet pussy around my cock,I want you to cum when I'm inside of you." Without any form of clothing between them, the heat of him made her drip more. He seperated her knees and knelt in between her, their skin bare on each other, his cock,flushed and massive, pistoned through the entrance of her wet pussy. The swollen head peeked out with every stroke glistening, dripping. Each move made her moaned his name,the wet slap of skin. And then finally, he penetrated in slowly, half way through, moving in and out, causing her to grab the sheets tightly, then he went in fully, deep, hard, swollen...low moan escaped from her throat, she felt butterflies in her stomach. In a slow pace they both moved in rhythm, groaning and moaning, he could feel inside of her, warm, soft, wet, slick. He couldn't handle it, he went in deeper and faster, he groaned, she screamed. "Ahh... fuck... don't... stop... shit... I wanna cum." She said out of breath. He went on faster, he was also groaning,rubbing his thumb on her clit in circles, " You're so sweet, Lina. Ahrrg..." And then it happened, pussy pulsating,cock dripping, they reached the peak in unison. And when they finally fell together, it wasn't about power-it was about need. About choosing each other in the middle of chaos. About clinging to something real when everything else was falling apart. Afterward, Lina rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. For the first time since their forced marriage, Adrian held her not like a possession... But like a promise. And neither of them noticed the security camera in the corner of the room blinking red.

⚠️WARNING: This book contains explicit sexual content, possessive and toxic male leads, manipulation, emotional abuse, and disturbing themes that may be triggering to some readers. This is nothing like healthy love. ¥¥¥¥ I loved Tyler Beaumont for twelve years. Years of hoping and waiting, believing that one day, he would finally choose me. So when my parents told me I was being arranged to marry into his family... I thought it was fate. I thought I had won. But I was wrong, because the man waiting for me at the altar isn't Tyler. It's his brother, Grayson Beaumont. The one I never heard of-the one with cold eyes, a cruel mouth, and a hatred for me sharp enough to bleed. I don't know what I did to deserve it. I don't even remember. But he does. He remembers everything. He didn't marry me for love. He married me for revenge. And from the moment I became his wife, he made one thing clear-I would pay for a past I don't even remember. "I tried to forget you," he tilted my chin, staring directly into my soul. "But watching you love him? That was the first time I understood what hatred really feels like." And Tyler? The man I spent twelve years loving? He won't let me go. "I don't need you to choose me," he whispered. "I just need you to understand... no matter whose name you take, you will always be mine." Two brothers. One filled with hatred. The other with obsession. And me? Caught between a past I can't remember...and a truth that could destroy us all. Because somewhere between lies, desire, and betrayal, I realize the most dangerous thing of all: I was never meant to love the right brother.

I arrived at Hayes's apartment twenty minutes early, balancing his favorite Thai takeout in one hand and my keys in the other. The doorman nodded at me with familiar recognition as I stepped into the elevator. Five years of dating had made me practically a resident here. "Surprise," I whispered to myself, checking my reflection in the polished elevator doors. I'd taken extra care with my appearance today—Hayes had been distant lately, and I wanted to remind him why he'd fallen for me in the first place. The apartment was quiet when I entered. "Hayes?" I called out, setting the food on the kitchen counter. No response. "He must be running late," I murmured, noticing his iPad on the coffee table. A notification lit up the screen: "The Game: New Message." I shouldn't look.

I was in the middle of a tough labor, bleeding heavily, and my husband, Leo Wilson, who had promised to be the first to welcome our baby, was nowhere to be found. The doctor looked around the room with concern. “Where’s Mr. Wilson? Without his signature, there's a risk of serious complications.” I gathered my strength to call Leo, only to hear his ex-girlfriend’s voice on the line. “Leo, you’re amazing.” Leo snapped at me, annoyed. “Women go through childbirth all the time. Stop being so dramatic.” “Rory’s depression is worse. As her doctor, I can’t just leave her now.” Leo was not just my husband but also the hospital’s director, though his heart belonged to his muse, Rory Simmons. As long as Rory was around, I was invisible.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the marble foyer of our penthouse. I stepped out, balancing a bag of groceries in one arm and a bouquet of lilies in the other—Marcus's favorite. After three years of marriage, I still believed in grand gestures, in rekindling what had begun to feel like a dying flame. Three years of choosing to see the man I fell in love with, not the increasingly distant stranger who shared my bed. The silence of our home greeted me. Usually, Marcus's assistant would call if he planned to be home early. I placed the groceries on the kitchen counter, arranging the flowers in a crystal vase—a wedding gift from his mother. The salmon would have to wait. First, I wanted to change out of my work clothes, slip into something that might remind my husband why he had once looked at me like I was his entire world. As I approached our bedroom, I heard it—a sound so familiar yet so out of place that my mind refused to process it at first.

Adrianna Simmons had spent three years longing for Zander Greene, believing she had finally won his heart. She thought her devotion had touched him. But one fateful night, she overheard a conversation between Zander and his friend Ryder White that shattered her illusions. "Iyla wants us to attend the same grad school," Zander said with an indifferent chuckle. "So I pretended to be with Adrianna. Not only does she help me with my studies, but she's also a convenient backup." His words hit Adrianna like a cold wave, leaving her numb and frozen in the doorway with a six-pack of beer in her hand. She barely managed to hold onto it as her world crumbled around her. Iyla Austin, Zander’s childhood friend, was a constant annoyance—or so he had claimed. Whenever her name came up, he would roll his eyes and talk about how no one could find her tomboyish ways attractive. "I prefer gentle, quiet girls," he'd say, and Adrianna, believing him, had tried to fit that mold.

The day I received my critical condition notice, I decided to sign the body donation consent form. I called my Uncle Alan, whom I hadn't spoken to in five years. I called three times. Just as I was about to hang up for the last time and give up—he answered. I steadied my voice, speaking cautiously: "It's just a signature. It won't take much of your time." All he said was, "Don't bother me," and hung up. I stood at the hospital entrance, tears still refusing to fall. I went to his city, to his company, looking for him. I caught him just as he was heading into a meeting. He didn't look at any documents, just signed carelessly. "Notify me when you're actually dead and it's time for the funeral." I clutched the papers and smiled: "Okay."

Clara Vance and her sister Hazel Vance married the powerful Thorne werewolf brothers, carrying their heirs to save the Alpha's dying father. But when thugs force a miscarriage potion down their throats, Clara realizes the medicine was never for the father—it was for Ivy Sterling, the brothers' manipulative childhood friend. Left bleeding and ignored by Silas Thorne, Clara’s love turns to ash. She initiates the ancient severance trial to break the mate bond, shattering Silas's world. As the truth behind Ivy's fake illness comes to light, the brothers face the devastating reality of their betrayal. Silas will bleed, beg, and break his own bones to win Clara back, but some shattered bonds can never be repaired.

I stood frozen among the pack members, the monthly meeting's usual chatter falling into stunned silence. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched my mate—my Alpha, my husband of eight years—betray our son with nothing more than a casual announcement. "As Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack," Ryan declared, his voice carrying that authoritative timbre that once made me weak at the knees, "I've decided that Connor Collins will take the open position in the elite Alpha training program." The pack hall erupted in hushed whispers. Everyone knew that position belonged to Jake—our son, the pack heir, who had trained tirelessly for months to earn his place. I felt the stares, some pitying, some curious, all wondering what the Luna would do now that her mate had publicly chosen another wolf's child over his own. Inside me, Selene howled in outrage. *He's doing it again. He's choosing her over us. Over our pup.* My wolf had seen this coming long before I allowed myself to acknowledge it. The way Ryan leaned toward Vanessa during pack meetings.

My boyfriend, Carter, chose a ski trip with his manipulative "best friend," Bridget, after I gave him an ultimatum. "If you go, we're over," I had warned. He just laughed and told me not to come crying to him when I got lonely. But while he was gone, the stress of his silence and Bridget's taunting Instagram posts sent me to the hospital with a bleeding stomach ulcer. Lying in an urgent care bed, hooked up to an IV, I saw him liking her posts-pictures of them looking like a happy couple, with captions mocking me. He wasn't just ignoring my pain; he was actively endorsing it. In that sterile room, something inside me didn't just break; it turned to ice. The years of begging for his affection, of fighting for his attention, simply evaporated. So when he came home expecting his favorite dinner, I had a surprise for him instead. "We broke up," I said, pointing to the moving boxes that held every last trace of him. He pulled out a Tiffany bracelet, claiming he was going to propose. But it was too late. I had already called the movers.

Isabella Moretti has never been wanted. Not by her father. Not by her stepmother. Not even by the sister who stole everything she was ever allowed to dream of. She grew up invisible, blamed for every sin in the Moretti household, taught to apologize even when she had done nothing wrong. So when her father falls into debt with Chicago's most feared mafia lord, he does the unthinkable. He offers Isabella as payment...

The forest has always been Jackline's only home. She doesn't remember the palace she was born to, the parents who once held her, or the kingdom that cried for a stolen princess. All she knows are the crumbling stones of an abandoned castle hidden deep in the woods, the whisper of leaves, the growl of distant beasts, and the cold reality of surviving alone. By day, Jackline hunts, forages, and explores the shattered halls of the castle swallowed by ivy and moss. By night, she curls up under broken rafters and stares at the moon, wondering if anyone, anywhere, is looking for her... even though she's certain the answer is no. The world beyond the forest might as well be a myth. No one has ever come for her. No one has ever stayed. Until the wolf. One fateful day, while tracking signs of wounded prey, Jackline doesn't find a deer or a boar, but a massive black wolf sprawled in the roots of an ancient tree. Its fur is stained with blood, its breathing shallow, its silver-gray eyes blazing with pain and something disturbingly close to human awareness. Every instinct tells her to run. A cornered predator is dangerous. A wolf this big is deadly. But Jackline recognizes the loneliness in its eyes. The fear of being left to die. It mirrors the ache buried deep inside her own chest. Ignoring her fear, she uses everything the forest has taught her-herbs, makeshift bandages, secret paths-to drag the heavy creature back to her ruined castle. There, in a forgotten servant's corridor, she creates a shelter. Day after day, she cleans its wounds, grinds healing plants, and whispers calm words to a creature that could end her life in a heartbeat. The wolf snaps and growls, but it never truly harms her. Slowly, it begins to trust her. When the wolf finally stands again, strong and steady, Jackline expects it to vanish into the trees without a backward glance. Instead, it follows her. Silent as a shadow, the wolf becomes her constant companion. It pads at her side when she searches for berries, keeps watch when she sleeps, and nudges her hand when her thoughts become too dark. Jackline learns to speak her thoughts out loud-to the forest, to the castle, and to the wolf with the haunted eyes. She tells it her fears, her questions, and the strange emptiness she feels when she thinks about her past. The wolf never answers, but somehow, it feels like it understands. For the first time in her life, jackline isn't truly alone. But the forest keeps its secrets tightly wound, and this wolf is one of them. Everything changes under the full red moon. Jackline has seen full moons before: pale and silver, gentle and distant. But this one climbs into the sky like a burning ember, staining the forest in crimson light. The air grows tense and electric; the castle feels suddenly awake, like it's holding its breath. That night, the wolf could rest. It paces, muscles tight, eyes brighter than she's ever seen them. There's something wild and barely contained inside him, something both terrifying and beautiful. When jackline reaches out to soothe him, he pulls away with a look that almost breaks her-one filled with sorrow and dread, as if he has been waiting for this moment and wishing it would never come. Under the blood-red moon, the wolf begins to change. jackline can only watch as bone and muscle twist, fur ripples and sinks beneath skin, and the creature she nursed back to life reshapes into something new. Something impossible. When the transformation ends, the wolf is gone. In his place lies a young man with dark hair, pale skin marked by faint scars, and the same silver-gray eyes that once watched her from a wolf's face. He is human. And he's not. He looks at her like he's been waiting his whole life to be seen. He knows her name. From that moment, Jacline's world fractures. The young man-her wolf-reveals a truth she never imagined. He is cursed, bound to the red moon, doomed to live as a wolf most of the time and return to human form only when blood stains the sky. Hunted by men, feared by sorcerers, and rejected by both humans and beasts, he is trapped between two worlds, never fully belonging to either. But he is not the only one living in a story shaped by magic and betrayal. The wolf's curse, he explains, is tied to old magic that once protected a powerful royal bloodline. A bloodline that ruled the kingdom beyond the forest. A bloodline that vanished the day a newborn princess was stolen from her cradle and never found. The day Jackline disappeared. Piece by piece, the life she thought she knew crumbles. The ruined castle she calls home is more than a random shelter-it once housed the loyal guardians of the royal family. The forest is not just a wild, dangerous place-it's a barrier of living magic, hiding her from those who would use or destroy her. Jackline is not simply a forgotten girl who happened to survive.

The Seattle drizzle was a fine, persistent mist that clung to the collar of my unbranded trench coat. I liked the cold. It was a sharp, waking contrast to the suffocating warmth of the bakery I’d just left, the scent of vanilla and spun sugar still lingering around the brown paper bags in my arms. I was taking the shortcut down Mercer Street, a stretch of cracked pavement and peeling brick facades that the city hadn’t yet bothered to gentrify. It was quiet. Predictable. Until a sleek, charcoal-black SUV pulled up to the curb, its heavy tires hissing against the wet asphalt. I didn’t look up immediately. But then I heard the heavy, metallic thunk of a car door closing, followed by a voice that made the marrow in my bones turn to ice. "Well.

The scent of greasy plates and burnt coffee clung to my skin as I fumbled with the keys to our apartment. My hands trembled—not from exhaustion, though I'd been on my feet for twelve hours straight, but from the constant, gnawing fear that had become my companion these past months. "Almost there, baby," I whispered to Dawson, whose small body felt heavier than usual against my chest. His breathing seemed labored, his normally rosy cheeks pale and drawn. Our apartment in Queens was little more than a glorified storage unit—peeling paint, water-stained walls, and a persistent smell of something rotting beneath the floorboards. But it was ours, or rather, it was what I could afford now that I'd abandoned my Harvard scholarship to care for Edward. "He'll be okay," I told myself, setting Dawson down on our threadbare couch. "We both will be." I examined my hands in the dim light—scarred, red, and raw from the harsh cleaning chemicals at the diner. The tendonitis had gotten worse, making even simple tasks like buttoning Dawson's clothes a painful ordeal. I smeared ointment on the worst spots, biting my lip against the stinging sensation.

I straightened my charcoal Armani suit as I entered Sterling Management's conference room, my face a carefully constructed mask of professional composure. The emergency PR meeting had been called within minutes of the video leaking—Ryan and Isabella stumbling out of Chateau Marmont, his hand possessively low on her back, her lips against his ear. Nothing unusual, except this time someone had caught it on camera. "Ladies and gentlemen," I began, my voice steady despite the familiar ache spreading through my chest. "We need immediate containment strategies." Around the glass table sat the usual crisis ensemble: studio executives with tight smiles, publicists frantically typing, and Ryan's social media team looking appropriately concerned. I'd assembled this exact group so many times I could predict their responses before they spoke. "Maya, TMZ is running with this every hour," said Vanessa, head of publicity at Paramount. "We need Ryan to make a statement." I nodded, sliding folders across the polished surface. "Page three outlines our approach. We're scheduling a press conference at two.

The grand ballroom of the Crescent Moon Pack house glittered with crystal chandeliers and silver decorations. I smoothed down the front of my ceremonial white dress—the one I'd spent weeks selecting for this moment. Tonight was supposed to be everything I'd waited five years for. "Luna Elowyn," I whispered to myself, practicing the title I'd soon bear. "Finally." My wolf, Aria, stirred inside me. *We deserve this. We've earned this.* I took a deep breath and stepped through the massive oak doors. The crowd parted as I entered, and I felt their eyes upon me—some sympathetic, others curious, a few even hopeful. Five years as Damien's fated mate without an official marking ceremony had left the pack unsettled. Tonight, that would finally change.

As the adopted child of the Stewart family, I was the glass child, the last child, the black sheep, the ignored. I wasn't wanted, I was chosen. Chosen to become the one to uphold their 'social standings'. They had no care for me, they picked me, they saw the quiet, bullied girl in the orphanage who was constantly picked on but couldn't fight back. And they decided that I was the perfect choice, to be the poster child that cleaned their poorly received social standings. Now, I've been promised to the devil CEO in place of my runaway older sister who decided to run merely days before her engagement ceremony. Adrian was no sweetheart, he was cold and standoffish. Not a man of many words but a man with a commanding presence. I thought I would forever be miserable in the marriage but luck shined on me because my new husband wasn't what the media and the rumor made him to be. He may very well be my fortune. But my happiness has never been guaranteed, just when I thought I could finally be happy, secrets, snakes and unfolded memories threaten to ruin it.

On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket. It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago. When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional. The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts. "If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement. They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt. I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file? Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim. When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights. "If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield. I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.

Scarlet Underwood had always fancied herself in love with Alpha Alex, she always knew he would be the one she would get married to. It was a dream come true to finally walk down the aisle and become not only his mate but the Luna of the pack. However, everything came crashing down when Kayla, Scarlet's best friend, claimed she was pregnant with Alpha Alex's child. Hurt, betrayed, and angry, Scarlet runs away. She gets attacked by rogues but is saved by Damien, the feared Lycan King, and it is painfully obvious by the sparks flying that they are mates. Damien, the reclusive Lycan King, is unsure what to do with his mate. He harbors a dark secret that may threaten to harm her if she chooses to stay with him, but he can't deny the burning attraction and pull he feels to her. Will Scarlet open up her heart to the possibility of love after having been burned once? And will Damien find a way around the curse and claim his mate? Join Damien and Scarlet on their journey of love, sacrifice, and betrayals!!!