Forsaken for a Fake: The True Luna's Revenge
My husband, Alpha Kaeden, once looked at me with adoration. But after he brought Clemmie home, his eyes turned cold, glazed over by the "herbal tea" she fed him.
Now, I lay chained to a steel table in the dungeon, the smell of my own burning flesh filling the air.
Kaeden stood over me, indifferent to my screams. He ordered the guards to electrocute me through silver cuffs—the poison of our kind—even though he knew I was carrying his pup.
But torture wasn't the end goal. I froze when I heard the doctor’s question.
"The transplant carries risks, Alpha. Taking a heart from a living donor..."
Clemmie didn't just want my husband; she wanted my heart to cure her "sickness" and steal my White Wolf power.
I waited for Kaeden to refuse. Instead, he rubbed his temples and delivered my death sentence.
"Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest."
"And the fetus?" the doctor asked.
"Incinerate it."
Those words killed me faster than the silver. I died on the operating table that night, my heart flatlining for three minutes to stage my death.
Kaeden thinks I am ash in a jar. He thinks he saved his mistress.
But when I opened my eyes in the safe house, they weren't brown anymore. They were glowing silver.
Beside me, my daughter slept, alive and radiating ancient power.
The weak Luna is dead. The White Wolf has risen.
And I am going home to take back my pack.
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Chapter 4
POV: Alois
"Get her out," Marcus breathed, his voice barely audible. "Before I remember my duty."
He stepped back and hit the release button for the gate.
"Thank you," I choked out.
I didn't wait. I slammed the gas pedal. The SUV shot forward, leaving the pack lands behind.
"Alois..." A weak voice came from the back.
"I'm here, Luna. Hang on."
I drove like a madman, weaving through the city traffic. I wasn't taking her to a hospital. Kaeden owned the hospitals. I was taking her to the Black Market.
Dr. Gates ran a clinic in the basement of a laundromat in the slums. He was a human who knew about our world and didn't care about pack laws, only money.
I carried Daria down the narrow stairs. She was limp now. Her breathing was shallow, rapid gasps.
"Gates!" I roared, kicking the door open.
The doctor, a thin man with greasy glasses, looked up from a microscope. He saw the blood and sighed. "I charge double for Alpha messes."
"Just save her," I said, laying Daria on the surgical table.
Gates cut away her dress. He paused when he saw the silver burns. Then he took a blood sample. He ran it through a centrifuge on his desk.
A moment later, the machine beeped. Gates looked at the screen, and his eyes went wide.
"Holy mother of..." he whispered. "Do you know what she is?"
"She is a patient," I barked. "Fix her!"
"Look at the energy reading!" Gates turned the screen to me. The graph was spiking off the charts. "This isn't normal werewolf blood. This is... ancient. White Wolf markers."
He looked at Daria with greedy eyes. "Her organs alone would be worth millions on the black market. Her heart could cure any disease. Her bone marrow could create super-soldiers."
I grabbed Gates by the collar and slammed him against the wall. My canines extended, sharpening into points.
"You want money?" I snarled. "I'll give you something better. I'll give you the patent rights to the synthetic version of her blood. You can be the richest man in the human world. But if she dies, you get nothing but a severed throat."
Gates swallowed hard, his eyes darting between me and the readout. Greed won.
"Okay. Okay! But she needs surgery now. The uterus is ruptured. I... I can't save the pup."
I looked at Daria. A tear slid from her closed eye. She heard him.
"Save the mother," I said, my voice breaking.
Gates got to work. "I have a drug. 'Wolf's Sleep.' It stops the heart for three minutes. Flatlines the monitor. It mimics death perfectly. We can use the tissue from the... from the procedure... to fake a corpse."
"Do it," I said.
Gates injected a clear liquid into Daria's IV.
"I'm sorry, Daria," I whispered, holding her cold hand.
On the monitor, the green line of her heartbeat slowed.
Beep... beep... beep...
Then, a long, high-pitched tone filled the room.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
The line went flat.
"She's under," Gates said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We have to move fast. If I don't revive her in exactly 180 seconds, she stays dead."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a notification from the pack network.
Alpha Kaeden has initiated a track on your vehicle.
He knew.
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8.2
After years of marriage, Adrian Foster still only spoke to me in bed.
The moment he got out of it, the warmth vanished, replaced by cold indifference.
I, Nora Bennett, had endured it all in silence, hoping that if I stayed obedient, he might show our daughter, Nina Foster, a little more care.
Yet in his eyes, Sophia Graham was his one and only-the woman he put on a pedestal, shielding and indulging her at every turn.
For her child, he had even taken my daughter's bone marrow.
In that moment, I finally understood. I was nothing more than a pawn in his battle with the woman he truly loved.
So I stopped holding on. I took my daughter and left without hesitation.
8.7
Bloodhoundhearts
8.7
Aiden is the Bloodhound the Council's most feared assassin, a vampire prince whose soul has been hollowed out by centuries of shadow and state-sanctioned slaughter. Elena is a Seer of the Vance line a woman of the mountain whose silver flame was meant to heal, not to spark a revolution. When their paths collide in the high spires of a corrupt capital, they don't just find love; they ignite a war that spans from the depths of the Sunken Vaults to the spectral currents of the Forbidden Coast.
Now, fleeing the ruins of a broken empire, they carry the ultimate secret: Caelum, a child of the Harmony. Born during a solar eclipse, he is the Third Way a hybrid heir with the power to either unite the warring forces of light and dark or become a beacon of chaos that levels the continent.
With the mechanical genius of a mad inventor, the iron will of a blacksmith's son, and the cryptic guidance of a five-hundred-year-old Oracle, Aiden and Elena must protect their son from enemies both ancient and new. From the obsidian breach-engines of the Council to the void-stained magic of Lyra, the first fallen Seer, the hunt is on.
In a realm where blood defines destiny, can a monster become a father? Can a healer survive the abyss? And when the choice comes to sacrifice half of his soul, will the Child of the Harmony have the strength to forge a new dawn?
7.6
When the kidnapper pressed a tactical knife to Falon's throat and demanded a one-million-dollar ransom, she was certain her fiancé would pay.
Instead, Jerod's annoyed voice echoed through the speaker. He was busy cutting a cake with his fragile, manipulative mistress, Abby.
"Do whatever you want with her," Jerod told the thug. "I am done."
The call disconnected. Left to die, Falon was injected with a lethal black-market aphrodisiac. She fought her way out, escaping into the freezing rain, and threw herself at the mercy of a stranger in a black Maybach. That stranger was Bell Farrell, a ruthless billionaire and Jerod's biggest corporate rival. To survive the burning drug and shatter the memories of her fiancé's betrayal, she gave herself to the devil that night.
The next morning, Falon woke up in a stranger's bed, staring at her bruised skin. For four years, she had endured her abusive family's cruelty, watching them treat her fake, adopted sister like a princess while using Falon as a corporate pawn. She had compromised everything for Jerod, only to be thrown away like garbage.
Why did she have to suffer while the people who destroyed her played the victims?
Falon took off her five-carat engagement ring and threw it in the trash.
She put on a sharp black suit and crashed her family's elite ballroom gala, ready to burn their high-society facade to the ground.
7.6
The drill's whine was the only thing in my world, vibrating through my skull and drowning out my own screams.
I was strapped to a cold metal table, paralyzed by wolfsbane, while surgeons bored into my hip bone to siphon my essence.
"Just a little more," the surgeon muttered. "Isabella needs the boost for the wedding photos."
They weren't saving my sister's life. They were harvesting my marrow just to make her skin glow for a picture.
I looked at the observation window, begging with my eyes.
Dante, the Alpha I had dragged from the jaws of death, stood there. He wasn't looking at me. He was holding Isabella's hand.
He didn't know I was the one who healed him. He believed her lies.
"Take it all if you have to," Dante's voice drifted through our fading mate bond. "Don't let her fade."
The drill punched through. My heart stuttered and stopped.
I died on that table, a hollowed-out husk used to feed my sister's vanity.
"Seraphina! Are you deaf?"
A sharp voice snapped me back into existence.
I gasped, clutching my hip. No blood. No drill. No pain.
I looked at the calendar on my father's desk.
I was alive. And I had exactly one year before the surgery that killed me.
I looked at my trembling hands and felt the ancient anger of my White Wolf stirring.
I wasn't going to be the sacrifice this time.
I was going to be the arsonist.
8.9
I was the lead architect for the Pack's billion-dollar tech company, and I was secretly carrying the Alpha's heir.
I thought the merger would finally make Caleb Mark me.
Instead, I walked into my office to find a mistress sitting in my chair.
Caleb didn't just fire me. When I refused to hand over the encryption keys to the system I built, he locked me in a reinforced closet lined with silver mesh.
For a pregnant wolf, silver is poison.
I pounded on the door until my knuckles bled.
"Caleb! Please! It burns! I'm losing the baby!"
I screamed until my voice broke, feeling the life drain from my womb.
But outside the door, his mistress laughed. "Don't listen to her, Caleb. She's just a weak Omega faking it for attention."
And my Fated Mate believed her.
He left me in that dark box while our son died in a pool of my own blood.
He thought he had broken me. He thought I would die a silent death so he could parade his fake heir around.
He forgot one thing: I wrote the code that runs his entire life.
Three days later, I didn't show up to the hospital morgue.
I rolled my wheelchair onto the stage of his global press conference, flanked by the rival Alpha he feared most.
I held up the remote to the main server.
"You killed my son for a lie, Caleb," I smiled into the microphone as the screens behind him broadcast the footage of his crime. "Now, say goodbye to your empire."
9.1
The Billionaire's Blood Debt
Two empires. One scorched-earth debt. No mercy.
Elara Vance was never supposed to be more than a pawn-the brilliant architect daughter of a man who traded souls for power. But when the world's financial foundations crumble, she finds herself signed over to the one man capable of burning her father's legacy to the ground: Dante Moretti.
Dante is no savior. He is the "Lion of the Underground," a billionaire predator fueled by a decades-old vendetta. He didn't just buy Elara's freedom; he bought her life, her loyalty, and her every breath. In his obsidian tower, the lines between prisoner and queen blur in a fever dream of high-stakes espionage and raw, primal obsession.
As they hunt a shadowy global cabal from the neon streets of London to the ancient ruins of Greece, Elara discovers that the only thing more dangerous than Dante's enemies is the "disgusting" heat of his touch. In a world where every secret is a weapon and every kiss is a betrayal, she must decide: will she dismantle the system that caged her, or become the ultimate weapon for the man who owns her soul?
The debt is blood. The price is total surrender.