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 3
Thanksgiving rolls around, and the Blake pack is gearing up for a big family feast.
Normally, on days like this, I'm not even allowed to catch a glimpse of Ivy from afar.
But this year, Veronica's feeling generous-or maybe just cruel in a new way-and lets me work the event, hauling trays and cleaning up after the pack.
The Blake pack's got deep roots and deeper pockets.
The feast is a full house, dozens of wolves and she-wolves gathered, laughing and clinking glasses.
When Veronica strolls in, arm-in-arm with Preston Hale, nobody bats an eye.
They swarm the pair, raising glasses like they're already bound.
"Bringing Preston to the feast? Looks like Veronica and him are about to form a sacred bond," someone whispers nearby.
"No surprise there," another voice chimes in. "Preston's from a top-tier pack, and him and Veronica? They're a match made by the moon. Plus, Ivy adores him. It's only a matter of time before she's bound to him."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
Veronica and Preston grew up together, thick as thieves.
When he found out she was my mate, he raised hell more than once.
Now, looks like he's getting what he always wanted.
But that's got nothing to do with me anymore.
I lower my head, grabbing a tray of drinks to deliver, when Ivy comes barreling toward me, all excitement. I don't move fast enough, and we collide.
"Hey, you okay? Did you get hurt?" I ask, checking her over, my heart racing.
She shoves my hands away, her face twisting with disgust.
"Keep your claws off me!" She hisses, shoving me so hard I stumble. Her eyes flash, pupils slitting. "Ugh, you. Always you. The worst of your kind."
She doesn't spare a glance as she bolts, knees pumping, and throws herself into Preston's arms. He's outside, by the bonfire-flames crackling.
He's handing Ivy a moon token-carved bone, glowing faintly.
"Scratch your wish, pup. Let the moon taste it, and it binds."
Ivy's eyes blaze. "I want you for dad, Preston! Us, a pack-forever bonded!"
"Bonded?"
Veronica's laugh is soft, stroking Ivy's hair.
"You know bonds mean blood oaths, little one?"
"I know!" Ivy bounces, token clutched tight.
"Mom, bond with him! Please?"
Preston's ears perk; Veronica's gaze flicks to me-sharp, triumphant.
"Alright, pup. He's yours."
My blood runs cold, chest squeezing like a trap.
I turn to go, but Andrew blocks me, calm as a storm.
"See that?" He nods at their laughter.
" You? A rogue. Ivy doesn't need your shame."
His voice drops, dangerous.
"Stay away. Or I'll let the pack scent your secret. Let 'em howl about her bloodline's rot. You want that for your cub?"
I stare blankly. "I won't tell anyone I'm her dad."
Andrew squints at me, like something's off, but he can't place it.
"Good. Veronica's had a lot to drink. Take her this sobering tea."
He shoves a cup into my hands.
I weave through the crowd to where Veronica's chatting with some pack members.
She spots me, her eyes icing over, but she doesn't say a word.
I don't either-just set the tea down and slip away.
The feast drags on, and I'm scrubbing the villa's floors until three in the morning.
I'm so beat I could crash right there, but I manage to stumble to bed.
The next morning, my phone's buzzing wakes me.
The newsfeed's blowing up: #Blake Pack Heir Caught In Ca rScandal-BondImminent?
It's Preston, of course.
The story's everywhere.
With their pedigrees, the whole pack's howling their approval online.
I shut off my phone, numb.
That doesn't matter to me. What matters is Dad.
Veronica's got him stashed in a private hospital, hooked to machines that keep him breathing. I sit by his bed, my hand trembling as I touch his weathered face.
I don't blame her for hating me, but I can't believe Dad would do what they say.
"Dad," I whisper, "when are you gonna wake up? You gonna lie here forever, carrying the weight of their lies?"
A tear falls onto his hand.
Then-did his finger just twitch?
I blink, thinking I'm seeing things. But it moves again.
I scramble for the healer.
After a flurry of tests, the healer pulls off their mask, smiling.
"Owen, good news. Your dad's vitals are improving. With active treatment, there's a real chance he'll wake up."
"Really? You mean it?"
I'm practically shaking with relief, thanking the healer over and over.
Hope sparks in my chest again.
I curl up by Dad's bed and drift off, clinging to that flicker of light.
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8.0
For four years, Ember traced the bullet scar on Chace's chest, believing it proved his unwavering protection. Their anniversary gala was supposed to be the night he finally proposed, a symbol of their future. Instead, she stood frozen, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto Karyn Warren's finger—the daughter of a rival family.
His voice, amplified by the silent ballroom, declared, "Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets." Her heart incinerated. Publicly humiliated, she was ordered to remain his mistress, threatened with her dead mother's grave. Chace, confident her father's debts trapped her, forced her from their shared penthouse.
He then used a fake "Help. Sick." text to lure Ember to a club, only to humiliate her further, calling her "loyal like a dog." Karyn ordered a soldier to "touch" Ember while Chace watched, indifferent. With no other choice, Ember drank a punishment cup containing wine she was severely allergic to.
She collapsed, suffocating on the club floor, as Chace and Karyn watched, annoyed. Waking in a sterile hospital room, her throat raw, she faced Chace's cold relief and Karyn's dismissive cruelty. The betrayal was absolute, the injustice sickening.
But moments before, in her despair, Ember had invoked a Blood Oath. She texted Keith Mosley, the ruthless Don, accepting his price for her father's debt: marriage. She would become his, and she was ready to pay.
8.1
One wardrobe malfunction.
Two people who don't belong together.
Three awful "Be my wife."
Everyone else is at this party to marry the host.
I'm only here until I can get a ride home.
When my dress rips in the world's worst-timed wardrobe malfunction,
I go find somewhere quiet to fix it.
So I'm standing there in nothing but my heels when,
As my luck would have it, the door opens...
And the man of the hour walks in.
I wish I could say I played it cool.
But it's been a looong time since anyone has seen me in my birthday suit...
Much less the hottest man I've ever laid eyes on.
All I want to do is fix my dress, click my heels three times, and be back on my couch in fuzzy slippers.
But Ivan has other ideas.
He's decided who he's taking to the altar...
And I don't have a choice but to say "I do."
8.1
I was sealing our wedding invitations with crimson wax when I heard my fiancé through the slightly ajar study door.
Ethan wasn't reciting the poetry he’d written for me over the last seven years. He was outlining the logistics of his betrayal.
"If I fake amnesia after the 'accident' tonight, I can delay the wedding without the family stopping the merger," Ethan laughed, ice clinking in his glass.
"And Ava? The Canary?" his friend asked.
"Ava is property. You maintain property; you don't have fun with it. While she plays nurse, I get a medical exemption to sleep with Chloe."
My world shattered. I fled into the rainy night, blinded by tears, until headlights turned my world upside down.
I woke up in the wreckage, my arm shattered, tasting blood. Ethan arrived moments later.
But he didn't run to me.
He stepped right over my bleeding body to comfort Chloe, who had a minor scratch on her forehead.
"I've got you, baby," he cooed to his mistress, looking at me with nothing but cold annoyance. "Don't worry about her. She's tough."
He left me in the street.
By the next morning, the narrative was set: The tragic Don had lost his memory of his fiancée, but miraculously remembered his 'true love,' Chloe. He evicted me from our penthouse while I was still in surgery.
He thought he had won. He thought the Canary would just die in the cold.
He forgot one thing. I knew where he hid the bodies—literally.
I walked into his staged public proposal, slammed my ring on the table, and left a note under it.
*I remember everything. And so do you.*
Then I boarded a plane with his secret incriminating journal in my bag. The empire was about to burn.
8.6
"This is wrong," I said, my voice rough and strained. "I'm your older brother... we can't do this." I tried to pull away from her, forcing some distance between us, but my body wouldn't cooperate. The pull toward her was too powerful, too deep in my bones.
She didn't let go. Instead, she tugged me closer, guiding me toward the bed. One of her soft hands pressed flat against my bare chest, right over my pounding heart, while her other arm wrapped around the back of my neck, holding me there.
Her eyes burned with hunger as she looked up at me. In a low, needy voice, she whispered, "Whether you believe you're my mate or not... I'm giving you my first everything tonight. All of me. Right now."
The words hit me like a shockwave. Every single inch of my body-my soul, my wolf-screamed the same thing over and over in my head: Mate. Mate. Mate. The instinct roared so loud it drowned out everything else, every rational thought, every rule I'd ever lived by.
I crashed my mouth against hers in a hungry, desperate kiss, claiming her completely. My hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against me as I muttered against her lips, "And I don't care anymore about morals or rules or any of that bullshit. I'm the ruler of these lands... and you're mine. All mine."
I was completely crazy about her. Obsessed. Possessed. She was mine-every part of her-and nothing in the world was going to change that.
8.6
After sacrificing her own life to save a young billionaire, Anne became the wife of Edric Montray overnight. However, it was only a loveless contract marriage that would last two years, just until Edric's ex-girlfriend returned from studying abroad.
Anne thought she could melt Edric's cold heart, but all she received was icy resistance and words that pierced her like knives.
One passionate, mistaken night gave Anne a spark of hope, only for it to be crushed when Bella, Edric's ex, returned the very next day. Anne gave up, signed the divorce papers, and disappeared.
Unexpectedly, a car accident brought back the memories Anne had lost for three years!
From that day on, the woman named Anne completely vanished, the underworld welcomed back the long-lost Mafia Queen after three years!
Edric went mad searching for his ex-wife, only to spiral deeper into insanity when he saw a seductive, stunning woman with Anne's face... holding the hand of a little boy who looked exactly like him.
"Anne..."
"There is no more Anne."
The ex-wife, no, now known as Mary Salvaria, the Mafia Boss ruling the entire underworld of the Union State.
Edric, how will you win back the heart of this entirely new woman?
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.