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Ex Begs Back-After Letting Another Wolf Claim My Kid Novel Cover

Ex Begs Back-After Letting Another Wolf Claim My Kid

I've spent years as the Blake pack's punching bag-all because of a lie about my dad. Veronica, the she-wolf I once loved, the mother of my little Ivy, spat on me daily. "You're a rogue," she'd snarl, slamming me into walls. "Ivy will never know you're her father." Preston, that snake, made it worse. He paid thugs to beat me, whispered lies to turn the pack against me. But when Veronica locked me in a basement with rabid dogs? That's when I knew I had to die-or fake it. I chose the latter. Now I'm free. Camille's in my arms, our daughter Lila clinging to my leg, her laugh brighter than the moon. But Veronica found me. "Owen, I love you," she sobbed, dragging me to a binding ceremony. I stared at Camille, at Lila's sleeping face. "Some wounds don't heal, pup."
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Chapter 2

She turns to me, her eyes glinting with something dangerous.

"You wanted the high life, didn't you, Owen? Well, I'm giving you a shot."

A chill runs through me. Whatever's coming, it's bad. Real bad.

Veronica doesn't give me a chance to argue.

She shoves me through the gilded doors, my shoulder slamming into a marble pillar. The air reeks of perfume and dominance-this is the Den, where she-wolves rule, claws sheathed in silk.​

"Got your sacrifice," Veronica barks, tossing a key at the queen of the house. "A rogue with a pretty snarl. Keep him leashed. Entertain the girls."​

The queen's gaze rakes me, wolf-pupils narrowing. "Veronica's always had a knack for broken things." She flicks a wrist. "Show us your teeth, pretty one. Let's see if you're worth the chains."​

My throat tightens.

I clutch my collar, heart pounding, staring at the room full of strangers.

"I can't do this," I stammer.

"Veronica, please, don't make me do this!"

Her face is stone-cold, and she grabs my chin, her grip tight enough to bruise.

Her eyes are dark, chilling me to the bone.

"Oh, you don't like it? How about I do this to your dad instead? One call, and I'll have his oxygen cut off."

"No!"

I grab her arm, desperate.

She snorts, yanking free.

"If my pack hadn't taken you in, your uncle Raymond would've sold you off to who-knows-where. And now you're acting all high and mighty?"

My lips tremble, memories clawing their way back.

When Veronica banished me to the old Blake estate to work as a servant, the older hands there knew my story.

"His dad seduced Margot, caused all this mess," they'd whisper.

"Now he's sniffing around Veronica. Shameless."

By day, they gossiped.

By night, under cover of darkness, they'd rip off what little clothes I had left, pinching and bruising my skin.

When that wasn't enough, they'd beat me with whatever was handy, leaving me battered and broken.

They knew no one would care if I died there.

"Need help stripping?"

Veronica snaps, her patience gone.

She lunges for my shirt, and I flinch, my whole body shaking.

Just being near anyone now sets me off, trembling like a cornered pup.

"No! I'll do it," I choke out, biting back the shame.

Just hold on. One more month, and I'm out of this hell.

I unbutton my shirt, one agonizing button at a time.

It falls to the floor, leaving my scrawny frame exposed. I hug myself, shivering in the cold air.

The old she wolf smirks.

"That's not enough, wolf."

Tears sting my eyes, but I hold them back, turning to Veronica.

"You gotta humiliate me like this? If it's ever proven my dad didn't do those things, you'll regret this."

She laughs, sharp and merciless.

"Regret? The only thing I regret is knowing you. You and your dad would do anything for a buck, wouldn't you?"

"Keep going. Strip."

I shut my eyes tight, willing the tears to stay put.

My fingers grip my pants, knuckles white.

Veronica watches, irritation flickering across her face, like she's already bored.

Then her phone rings.

I catch a glimpse of the caller-Preston Hale, my childhood friend.

Her voice shifts, soft as honey.

"Hey, babe, miss me? Alright, I'm on my way."

She hangs up and bolts without a backward glance.

I stumble out of the room, clutching the one hundred bucks the old fat she wolf tossed at me. My face burns like I've been slapped.

"Veronica's orders," she'd said with a sleazy grin. "

A wolf like you? Worth one hundred. Not a penny more."

The sunlight's too bright, stabbing at my eyes. I collapse to the ground, sobs tearing out of me. In that moment, the Veronica I once knew-the gentle, kind she-wolf I loved-is dead to me.

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