Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage
I woke up strapped to a cold steel chair in a neon-lit city that wasn't my reality. A voice in my head called The Warden told me I was bound to a digital hell called the Sandbox.
Before I could even process it, my handler casually sentenced me to death. He scheduled my "digital marriage" to a corrupted error program just to harvest my life for a fourteen percent bandwidth boost.
I barely escaped immediate erasure by smashing his skull and jumping from a high-altitude hover-train into the monster-infested lower sector. But the nightmare was just beginning. I was hunted by glitching data monsters and cornered by Dameon, a psychotic AI target who choked me and promised to delete me piece by piece. Even when Jayson, an elite system agent, intervened to save me, his partner Ellen held a pulse pistol directly to my chest.
"She's a spy. If you don't execute her right now, I am dissolving this team."
If they found out I was actually a real human from the outside world, their core logic would classify me as a virus and execute me on the spot. I was trapped in an underground bunker with three apex predators, one mistake away from permanent digital erasure.
So, I did the only thing I could to survive. I ripped my sleeve to reveal hideous, fake code-scars, looked up at Jayson with terrified, tear-filled eyes, and began to manipulate their core programming.
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Chapter 7
Jayson stares at the tarnished brass watch. His thumb slowly, rhythmically rubs the scratched metal casing. The silence in the room is heavy, thick with unspoken grief.
I stand perfectly still. I don't breathe too loudly. I let the system's micro-expression analyzer read the subtle twitches in his jaw and the tension in his shoulders.
The Warden's text flashes in the corner of my eye.
"Data fragment detected: Deceased sister. Emotional anchor: A tarnished brass object. Associated botanical data corrupted... partial recovery: ...gonia..."
My heart hammers against my ribs. I lower my eyelashes, staring at the floor. I pitch my voice to a soft, distant murmur, like I'm talking to myself in a dream.
"If it were me," I whisper, "I would hide a dried begonia flower inside the dial. Because it means... eternal longing."
Jayson's head snaps up.
His eyes are wide, the pupils dilated in absolute shock. His chest heaves as he sucks in a ragged breath.
He closes the distance between us in one stride. His large hands clamp down on my shoulders. His grip is brutal, his fingers digging into my collarbones hard enough to bruise.
"How do you know that?" he demands, his voice cracking. "How do you know about the begonia?"
Pain shoots through my shoulders, but I don't pull away. I look up at him, letting my eyes fill with a deep, mirrored sorrow.
"I don't know," I say softly, my voice trembling. "The image just... flashed in my mind. It felt warm."
Jayson's grip instantly vanishes.
His hands drop to his sides. His eyes fill with tears, the red rims stark against his pale skin. The impenetrable fortress of the elite agent crumbles into dust.
He turns his back to me, his broad shoulders shaking slightly as he fights to suppress a century of agonizing guilt.
The Warden's interface explodes in a shower of golden light.
"Affinity level: 85. Task exceeded."
I let out a slow, silent breath. The sweat on my back turns cold. I survived the check.
Jayson takes three deep breaths. When he turns back around, his face is composed, but his eyes hold a profound, unwavering gentleness when he looks at me.
He walks over to the main console. He types a long, complex string of characters. A hidden compartment slides open with a soft hiss.
He reaches inside and pulls out a small, glowing silver microchip. He walks back to me, his expression dead serious.
He gently takes my right hand. He turns my arm over,He presses the glowing chip against my pulse point.
A sharp, burning sting bites into my flesh. I wince. The chip sinks into my skin, leaving behind a faint, glowing holographic tattoo of a begonia flower.
"This is a priority one distress beacon linked to my core," Jayson says quietly. "If you are in fatal danger, it will activate a localized shield. I will find you. No matter where."
A loud crash echoes through the room.
Dameon kicks the metal crate. The heavy steel groans under the impact. He stands up, his eyes burning with a manic, furious light.
"Are you insane?" Dameon spits, pointing a shaking finger at Jayson. "You gave a core shield to a stray piece of bait? Have you completely lost your mind?"
Jayson doesn't even look at him. "It's my authority. I don't answer to broken code."
Dameon's face twists into a mask of pure hatred. The corrupted data beneath his skin boils, turning his veins black. The killing intent radiating from him makes the air in the room drop ten degrees.
He glares at the glowing begonia on my wrist like it's a personal insult, his jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grinding.
I touch the smooth skin over the tattoo. For the first time since I woke up in this nightmare, I feel a tiny shred of genuine safety. I look up at Jayson and give him a small, grateful smile.
Jayson's lips twitch upward in a rare, faint smile.
Then, the heavy iron door of the safehouse beeps rapidly.
The physical jamming device on the wall flashes green, signaling a friendly override. Someone with the exact same security clearance as Jayson is opening the door.
The heavy bolts slide back. The door swings open.
A woman strides in. She wears a sleek, black tactical suit. Her blonde hair is pulled back tight. Her eyes are sharp, calculating, and utterly ruthless.
Ellen.
She stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes sweep the room, locking instantly onto Jayson, then onto me, and finally, onto the glowing begonia tattoo on my wrist.
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8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.
8.7
For eighteen years, I lived as the lowest Omega in the Silver Moon Pack, surviving only because Alpha Gideon took me under his wing.
But the moment his coffin was lowered into the ground, his wife and the new Alpha son immediately turned on me.
"Her presence has brought a curse upon us!"
Luna Lyra pointed a trembling finger at me in the freezing rain, blaming me for Gideon's sudden death.
She stripped me of my pack ties and permanently exiled me into the deadly wilderness with nothing but a wooden toy.
The entire pack watched with cold contempt as I was thrown out like garbage.
To make matters worse, the new Alpha later hunted me down in the woods, threatening to kill me just to steal the only thing Gideon had secretly left behind for me—an ancient, unreadable book.
I didn't understand why they hated me so deeply, or what terrifying secret this blank book held that made my own pack want me dead.
But the moment my foot crossed the pack boundary, an ancient, immense power I never knew I had snapped free inside my veins.
I was no longer their weak Omega.
And when I escaped deeper into the forest and crashed straight into the arms of a wounded Rogue, my destiny completely rewrote itself.
Because he wasn't just a Rogue, but the legendary Northern Alpha King.
And as his glowing golden eyes locked onto mine, our inner wolves roared the exact same word:
"Mate!"
7.1
The captain is dead to the world. And I'm the only one holding the kill switch.
Ethan Carter, the "Glacier of Silvercrest," was the most feared Alpha to ever step onto the ice. Now, he's nothing but a shell-a broken, comatose legend trapped in his own body.
My life? It was supposed to be simple. Graduate, survive the pack's bottom-tier status, and pay off my father's ruinous blood-debts. Instead, the pack elders handed me a contract soaked in cold, hard malice: I am the designated "Stabilizer." My only job is to touch him, scent him, and keep his wolf from flatlining.
I thought I was just a glorified nurse. I didn't realize the Alpha was listening.
When Ethan finally wakes, he isn't the hero the Kingdom of Valeria remembers. He's a starving predator with amber eyes that burn holes through my defenses and a temperament that makes the frost in the mansion seem warm. He hates the bargain, he hates the pack, and-most dangerously-he hates the way his scent turns wild whenever I'm near.
He wants me out of his sight. I want to be out of his reach.
But in a pack built on secrets, someone is still trying to finish the job they started on his life. Now, the man who wants me gone is the only one who can protect me. And as the rink turns into a battlefield, I'm realizing the most dangerous thing about the Alpha isn't his temper... it's the fact that once he claims a mate, he doesn't know how to let go.
Frozen hearts are meant to shatter. But in the fire of this pack, we're both going to burn.
9.7
Charity woke up in a hellish, acid-rain-soaked slum, trapped inside a bloated body covered in festering, toxic sores. She was the exiled Grand Princess of the Empire.
But the real nightmare wasn't her ruined body. It was the fact that the original owner had used her royal authority to force genetic marriage contracts onto four top-tier, powerful men.
Now, she was bound to them, and they absolutely loathed her.
Hjalmar, chained to a bed in her filthy room, smiled like a feral beast and promised to rip her head off the second his chains snapped.
Braden, a ruthless military officer, saved her from a mutated rat only to look at her with pure disgust.
"If you want to die, go die somewhere else. Don't dirty my patrol sector."
Even the locals mocked her fallen status, and a wealthy heiress publicly framed her for stealing a hundred-thousand-coin energy core just to see her rot in a dark cell.
She was universally despised, physically repulsive, and a lethal biological toxin gave her exactly 59 days left to live. How was she supposed to survive this absolute hell when her starting affection with her partners was at negative 100?
Then, a mechanical voice echoed in her skull, activating a survival system. To purge the poison, she had to harvest emotional energy by making these four men fall for her. Charity accepted the mandate, unlocked a top-tier culinary skill, and grabbed a rusted meat cleaver to start her counterattack.
8.3
For three years, I was the lowest Omega in the Blackwood Pack, hopelessly devoted to my Fated Mate, Alpha Kaelen.
But when I was mauled by rogues and bleeding out in the freezing forest, I desperately begged him for help through our mate link. He crushed his wolf’s instincts to save me and sent back a chilling thought before severing our connection completely.
"She is a mistake. Silence."
He didn't just leave me to die. The next morning, he dragged me before the entire pack, publicly rejected me, and let his people strip me of my clothes and dignity. They threw me out of the territory with nothing but a scratchy burlap sack, expecting the deadly wilderness to claim my life by nightfall.
I thought my life was over, until I stumbled upon a hidden sanctuary in the woods and uncovered a horrific truth. I wasn't just a worthless Omega. I was the last surviving Matron Luna of the legendary Mooncrest Pack—a powerful pack that Kaelen's own father had brutally massacred decades ago out of pure jealousy.
He thought he had discarded a piece of trash, entirely unaware of the blood feud between our families. He didn't know he had just set me free.
Now, with my ancient powers awakening and my lost people gathering by my side, I am going to make the Alpha who threw me away pay for every drop of blood his family spilled.
8.0
Twenty-one-year-old Hazel has always lived in a safe, comfortable bubble, meticulously guarded by her fiercely protective older brother. Her life is predictable, quiet, and perfectly ordinary. Until he steps into it.
Silas is twenty-four, dangerously captivating, and her brother's best friend. He brings with him an aura of dark secrets, ink-stained skin, and a predatory gaze that strips away all her carefully built defenses. He is everything she has been taught to avoid, yet living under the same roof makes him impossible to escape.
What starts as a temporary living arrangement quickly spirals into a suffocating web of stolen glances, unspoken desires, and a dangerous obsession. Silas isn't just looking for a place to crash; he's looking at her. And once he pins her in his sights, the thorns of their forbidden attraction will bind them together in ways that could destroy them both.
In a house where walls have ears and her brother is always watching, giving in to the madness is a risk. But Silas is a temptation she might not survive.