Exposed After Six Failed Assassinations of the Alpha
I'm an assassin for the Snicker pack, cold and relentless. My mission? Kill Alpha Ronan of a rival pack in three months.
Five attempts. Five failures. All thanks to my incompetent partner. One time, he even gave me an overtime drug. Pathetic.
The deadline was here, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him.
"I won't do it. Just let me die instead," I told my partner.
Silence. Days passed with no reply.
Then, on the final day, I found it-a secret buried deep in the mission......
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
I rolled my eyes.
I was just an average assassin, nothing special.
But then, Ronan suddenly released my hand. He swiftly pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, aiming it straight at my face.
What the hell?
Had I been exposed?
Was this some kind of trap?
Instinctively, my professional assassin skills kicked in-I raised my hands in surrender, about to crouch down, when he calmly said to Alice, "Did you see that? You're ugly, she's beautiful."
Wait, what?
Ronan was a looks guy?
What a twist.
I awkwardly pretended to scratch my head, trying to act cool while my heart was doing backflips.
Damn it.
Mental note: Ronan, you're a dead man.
This mission wasn't going to happen tonight. I'd have to wait for another chance.
Just when I was wallowing in defeat, he suddenly draped his arm over my shoulders, saying with far too much familiarity, "Stammer, I accept your pursuit."
Who's pursuing you?!
Are you the ancient Greek god of self-confidence or something?
But.
Seeing Alice still clinging to him like a bad odor, I realized-this was the perfect opportunity.
"Well. if that's the case, can I. can I come over tonight?"
The next morning, I woke up in Ronan's five-hundred-square-foot bed, his scent still lingering in the air, and I immediately started planning my next move.
Poison.
Lunch was going to be my moment. I added a special ingredient to every dish.
But I didn't expect this-
"Why aren't you eating?"
I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead.
Since I put the poison in, he hadn't touched his food, his smile never wavering.
Was I exposed?
Ronan, casually brushing a lock of hair from my face, cupped my cheek and said softly, "You eat first. I'll take whatever's left."
Wait, what?
What kind of weird preference was this?
I tried to steer the situation: "W-We can eat together..."
He awkwardly nodded.
Just when I thought things were safe, he suddenly called my name, "Stammer."
I looked up, confused: "Huh?"
And before I could say another word, a spoonful of giant wolfberry stew was shoved into my mouth.
I had no choice but to swallow.
Wait. what the hell?
Did I just let him feed me?!
He chuckled softly, his voice laced with amusement, "If you wanted me to feed you, you could've just asked."
You may also like
8.0
Trapped 3,000 meters beneath the sea, the submersible I designed was my coffin. The air was turning to poison.
But my fiancé, Jeffery, gave our only long-term life support-a CO2 scrubber I invented-to his social media star mistress.
"You're strong, Elaina," he said. "You can figure something out."
When I tried to use the emergency comms, he broke my wrist and smashed the console.
He and his mistress sealed the hatch, leaving me to die alone in the crushing dark.
He chose his career over my life. He chose her over me. The man I was supposed to marry would rather I suffocate at the bottom of the ocean than face a failed mission.
But as the blackness closed in, I remembered a secret. A tiny, personal emergency pinger I' d built into my glove. With my last bit of strength, I tore the seam with my teeth and slammed my hand against my head. A faint click echoed in the silence. My revenge had just begun.
9.8
When Dawn Collins agrees to marry a stranger, love is the last thing on her mind.
All she wants is to protect her siblings and give them a better life. But fate leads her into the arms of Adam Manchester-a man whose heart belongs to a wife lying in a coma.
As Dawn slowly melts the ice around Adam's heart, she begins to believe that maybe, just maybe, love can bloom from sacrifice.
But on the night she's ready to claim her happiness, Adam's wife wakes up.
Now, caught between guilt, love, and heartbreak, Dawn must decide whether to fight for the man she's grown to love... or walk away from the life she risked everything to build.
Because some hearts never let go-and some love stories were never meant to have an easy ending.
9.2
Five years after my death, the street punk banished by the Mafia family returned to this soil as a highly respected Godfather.
He didn't come back for turf or business. He came for revenge.
He wanted to make me regret the day I "betrayed" him.
He framed my father as a rat.
He locked my mother in a pitch-black basement until she went blind.
He crippled my brother's right arm, stripping away his gift as a top-tier sniper forever.
To find me and exact his vengeance personally, he had turned himself into a monster.
"She’s dead! She’s been dead!" my brother roared. "Five years ago! When The Commission sent hitters after you, she took the fall! She burned to ashes so you could live!"
9.3
I lay on the wet asphalt, the cold rain mixing with the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. My lungs were heavy, filling with fluid as my life ebbed away. Through swollen eyelids, I saw my lover, Clovis, and my stepsister, Alanna, standing over me with looks of pure triumph.
"Thanks for the trust fund, sister," Alanna whispered, shoving a phone screen in front of my dying eyes. The headline was a jagged blade to my soul: Caesar Williamson, the "tyrant" husband I had fled from, was dead in a multi-car collision. He had died trying to rescue me, thinking I was in danger.
The realization shattered what was left of my heart. The man I had spent years painting as a monster had driven into hell to save me, while the man I thought was my safety was the one who had just crushed my ribs with an iron bar. I had played right into their hands, ruining my reputation and my marriage for a lie. I watched them walk away, leaving me to choke on my own blood in the dark, discarded like a bag of trash.
I wanted to scream, to beg the universe for a rewind button, to tell Caesar I was sorry. The darkness pressed down on me, heavier than the betrayal, as my world finally went black.
Then, I was screaming.
I shot up in bed, gasping for air like a drowning woman breaking the surface. I scrambled at my abdomen—smooth skin, no blood, no tear. I grabbed my phone and saw the date: it was three years ago, the morning of my wedding to the Williamson estate.
I didn't waste a second. I scrubbed the "unstable" makeup from my face, threw on a white silk dress, and blocked the man who would eventually kill me. This time, I wasn't running away from the manor. I was going back to the husband I had once feared, ready to save the only man who had ever truly loved me.
7.0
My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child.
Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby.
To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner.
They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his.
The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused.
But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.
9.2
His sharp intake of breath washed over her. His gaze dragged over her breast to her mound that the thong did a bad job covering. Every part of her body his dark, hungry gaze touched, burned.
His voice was deeper than any she ever heard. "On the couch."
She obeyed without thinking. She made her way to the couch and sank into the plush cushions.
"Spread your legs."
She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. A frustrated groan left Jason's lips and Anna jumped at the sound. Before she could blink, she was pushed back on the couch, Jason's lips over hers.
His hands grazed her nipples, and he shoved her thighs apart, settling between them. He took her breast into his mouth, biting, sucking, tugging until sparks shot to her core.
"Jason-" she gasped, desperate.
********
Anna was supposed to be enjoying her sister's wedding afterparty, not stuck in a locked car with the groom's infuriating older brother.
Jason Knight-best man, shameless flirt, her personal headache-had been under her skin since they met for rehearsals, and now, in her space.
He wasn't supposed to make her skin heat with one touch.
And she definitely wasn't supposed to end the night tangled in bed with him.
One night. That's all it was meant to be.
But what Anna doesn't know: Jason isn't just her brother-in-law's maddeningly smug brother, he's the boy she once humiliated in high school-the one who never forgot, and he's spent every one of the years after changing everything about himself.
Now, he's back with a grudge, a memory that cuts deep, and a plan.
Twenty-one days. One dangerous game.
Anna is about to learn that some grudges don't fade, they smolder and ignite.
When old wounds collide with white-hot chemistry, will revenge blur into something even more dangerous? or will it be their ruin?