His Untamed Prey: The Reborn Heiress
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 7
The black Aston Martin crossed the infrared timing sensors with a deafening screech of brakes.
The crowd erupted. The grid girls screamed, waving their umbrellas in a frenzy of excitement.
The supercar came to a complete stop ten meters past the crowd.
Inside the cabin, the moment the car stopped moving, the adrenaline keeping Eliza alive vanished. Her tightly wound nerves snapped.
She let go of the steering wheel. She violently vomited a mouthful of dark blood onto the dashboard.
Her head slumped forward, resting heavily against the horn. She lost consciousness entirely.
The amused smirk vanished from Duval's face. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt.
He reached over and pressed two fingers against Eliza's carotid artery. Her pulse was so weak it was barely there.
Griffin and Jules ran up to the car, holding umbrellas and laughing, ready to celebrate Duval's insane victory.
Griffin yanked open the driver's side door. The smile froze on his face.
He stared in horror at the blood-drenched girl slumped over the wheel. He stammered, "What the hell, Duval? Who is she?"
Duval ignored his friend's panic. He leaned over, carefully avoiding her twisted right arm, and scooped her up into his arms.
She weighed almost nothing, like a broken bird. But the metallic stench of her blood was overpowering.
Jules pushed his glasses up, looking at the ruined leather seat. His voice was grave. "She's dying. You've brought trouble, Duval."
Duval carried Eliza toward the black armored SUV that Rook had just pulled up.
He issued a cold command to Rook. "Contact Dr. Elara Vance. Clear the underground medical bay at the estate. Prepare for a Level One trauma resuscitation."
Rook nodded sharply. He pulled open the heavy armored door.
Duval climbed into the back seat, laying Eliza flat on the wide leather bench.
The SUV activated its hidden police sirens. It tore away from the crowd, speeding into the night.
The interior of the SUV was dim. Duval looked down at the girl lying on his seat.
He pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket. He gently wiped the thick mud and blood from her face.
The dirt cleared, revealing delicate, striking features.
Duval's eyes widened slightly in surprise. She looked incredibly young. She couldn't be older than eighteen.
How could a teenage girl possess the eyes of a seasoned killer and the driving skills of a combat operative?
Eliza frowned in her deep coma. A soft moan of pain escaped her pale lips.
Duval reached out, almost involuntarily, and smoothed the crease between her eyebrows with his thumb.
He looked at his blood-stained fingertips. A dangerous, predatory smile curved his lips.
He spoke to Rook in the front seat. "Investigate every violent incident that occurred in the D. C. area tonight."
"I want to know exactly who did this to my trophy."
The SUV vanished into the storm, heading straight for the impenetrable Estrada family estate.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
9.0
My fiancé, Connor, and I had a one-year pact. I'd work undercover as a junior developer in the company we co-founded, while he, the CEO, built our empire.
The pact ended the day he ordered me to apologize to the woman who was systematically destroying my life.
It happened during his most important investor pitch. He was on video call when he demanded I publicly humiliate myself for his "special guest," Jaden. This was after she'd already scalded my hand with hot coffee and faced zero consequences.
He chose her. In front of everyone, he chose a manipulative bully over our company's integrity, our employees' dignity, and me, his fiancée.
His eyes on the screen demanded my submission.
"Apologize to Jaden. Now."
I took a step forward, held up my burned hand for the camera, and made a call of my own.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It's time to dissolve the partnership."
7.2
For three years, I was imprisoned by Anderson Hopper, the monster who forced me to watch my fiancé, Kendall, plummet into a freezing river.
But when I saw the morning news, I realized Kendall wasn't dead. He had returned as Eben Gill, a ruthless tech billionaire.
I risked my life to escape and find him, only to be met with eyes full of absolute hatred.
He publicly humiliated me, dragged me to the exact bridge where he "died," and sneered at the C-section scar on my stomach.
"Anderson Hopper's bastard," he spat, completely unaware that the baby was actually his—the very child Anderson had murdered in the operating room to break me.
To make matters worse, Anderson used Kendall's dying mother as a hostage to force me back into my cage.
I knelt on the freezing asphalt, begging the man I loved to just visit his mother, while he coldly ordered his driver to run me over.
I had lost my baby, my freedom, and my dignity, all to protect him from Anderson's blackmail. Why was I the one being tortured and treated like a traitor?
"Don't think your little kneeling stunt earned you my forgiveness."
He whispered those cruel words before walking away without looking back.
Staring at his cold, retreating figure, the last shred of my love finally turned to ash.
That night, under the cover of a torrential storm, I bypassed the estate's laser grids and walked out into the dark.
7.1
The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown.
Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity.
"I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered.
Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside.
To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead.
Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her.
She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo.
But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad.
Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention.
When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished.
Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.
7.9
Erin woke up in her luxurious Fifth Avenue penthouse, three days after returning from the cold, sterile psychiatric hospital where her husband had locked her away.
On the night of their third anniversary, Crockett Winters came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, expecting his docile wife to serve him.
Instead of playing the obedient fool, Erin calmly exposed the million-dollar diamonds he had just bought for his lover.
Furious at her sudden defiance, Crockett tried to physically intimidate her, pinning her against a wall to reassert his dominance.
When his aggression failed, he threw a brutal divorce agreement on the table.
"Sign it, and you walk away with nothing. You can't survive without me, and you know it."
He sneered, convinced the ironclad prenup would terrify her. He thought her rebellion was just a pathetic, jealous tantrum, a desperate play for his attention while he continued to pamper his mistress.
He truly believed she was just a beautiful canary who would eventually crawl back to her gilded cage in tears.
But Erin didn't cry, and she didn't sign the papers.
Instead, she locked him out of the master suite and pulled out his unlimited Centurion card.
In a single night, she calmly spent ninety million dollars of his money to buy up prime real estate and hidden assets, taking the first step to build an empire that would completely destroy him.
9.5
I was forced to sign my life away to Jaxson Wilson, a ruthless Wall Street predator, just to save my family's failing company.
But the moment the ink dried on our marriage certificate, my family showed their true colors.
My cousin tried to physically attack me out of pure jealousy, and my grandfather weaponized my dead parents' tragic accident just to ensure my absolute obedience.
Suffering a severe panic attack, I packed my bags and fled the toxic estate.
I expected to be tossed into a cold, empty penthouse by my new billionaire husband. After all, this was just a corporate merger, and I was nothing but a tool to stabilize his stock.
Yet, everything Jaxson did completely shattered my expectations.
He didn't neglect me. He personally designed a breathtaking mansion tailored to my habits.
When I cooked cheap pasta in the middle of the night, the billionaire CEO rolled up his sleeves to wash my dishes.
When a speeding truck nearly hit me, he risked his own life to pull me back, his eyes dark with a terrifying, raw panic.
I couldn't understand it. Why was this cold, untouchable man treating a fake, transactional wife with such intense, suffocating protection?
"It doesn't matter if my family likes you. You married me. Not them."
Looking at the multi-million dollar diamonds he had just fastened around my neck, my fear finally evaporated.
If my family wanted to throw me to the wolves, I would gladly become the alpha's wife and make them regret it.
9.1
Eleonora woke up in the hospital, still feeling the terrifying weightlessness of her own suicide.
She realized her chilling nightmare was actually a prophecy: she was destined to be the tragic, disposable villain, while her adopted sister Addisyn was the beloved protagonist.
On the day of her discharge, her father abandoned her to celebrate Addisyn's eighteenth birthday.
When Eleonora dragged her recovering body back to her family estate, she found her biometric access wiped and her home turned into a chaotic nightclub.
Addisyn had taken over the master bedroom and was wearing Eleonora's late mother's priceless sapphire necklace.
When Eleonora coldly demanded her property back, Addisyn squeezed out fake tears and played the pitiful victim.
Instantly, Eleonora's childhood fiancé and lifelong friends stepped up to shield Addisyn.
They scolded Eleonora for being cruel and classless, demanding she sleep in the guest room so she wouldn't ruin the party.
Downstairs, the elite guests mocked her as a crazy, jealous freak who was bullying her sweet sister.
In her nightmare, their blind devotion to this manipulative parasite had driven Eleonora to jump off a skyscraper.
She was the sole legal heir to the Carlisle estate, yet they expected her to quietly hand over her home, her mother's legacy, and her life to a thief.
But Eleonora was no longer a victim.
She pulled out the irrevocable trust documents, proving her absolute ownership, and looked at her loyal butler.
"Cut the power," she ordered coldly. "Throw every single trespasser out the gates."