My mate send me to mental hospital
I fled the hellish mental hospital with a dislocated shoulder, only to run into Damian-my once-love, now hating me for a lie.
To keep him pure, I'd lied about Kathleen's death, letting him believe I'd chosen my life over hers.
"You slut deserve to rot in the mud!" he spat, letting Brielle-my torturer-twist the truth.
They broke me: beatings scarred my body, forced liver donation paralyzed me. Yet I clung to our fragments, carving his name into my flesh.
In the end, fire consumed me
"Emily!" His frantic roar echoed by the sea.
But I'd already turned to ash.
Chapters
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Chapter 1
I dislocated my shoulder breaking free from that hellish ward. The first thing I did when I stumbled into liberty?
Filed for a donation.
The guy behind the desk looked at me with pity swimming in his eyes.
"Emily, we're obligated to tell you this is a special donation. Your body will be used to test a new silver nitrate compound-specifically calibrated to dissolve lycanthropic cells. By dawn, there might not even be a sliver of bone left."
I pressed a hand to my aching shoulder, the cracked bones making every word feel like it was scraping through a busted fan.
I forced a smile, uglier than a sob.
"Couldn't ask for a better deal."
I didn't have much time left anyway. Might as well do something for the great pack.
My medical chart screamed the truth in big, ugly letters: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. Most folks know it as ALS, the freezing disease.
I got the short end of the stick-complications sparked a lung infection. Three weeks, tops, is what the healers gave me.
The guy's eyes softened even more.
"Thank you for your contribution to the pack's research. This payment's a small token. Please, take it."
My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I reached for the cash.
Side effect of all those nerve meds they pumped into me.
No controlling it. I planned to donate every cent to the pup shelter, swing by the pack's burial grounds one last time to settle my heart, then I'd be ready to face the end.
I staggered out the door and immediately spotted them-three wolves lurking behind a jagged boulder, waiting to pounce.
"There she is!" one barked.
"Little stray, you thought you could run? We'll shock you 'til you drop!" another growled.
I bolted, shoulders screaming with pain, blood and fear flooding my senses.
My body twitched with terror as I barreled into the nearest building, the one crawling with enforcers.
I was moving too fast, too desperate.
I slammed right into someone.
The chest I crashed into was solid as stone, leaving me dizzy.
Amid the chaos of gasps and shouts, a familiar, icy scent hit me-a scent I'd know anywhere.
Then his voice, low and sharp, cut through the noise. "
Emily."
Three years since I'd last seen him, and Damian Wolfe looked even more like the untouchable alpha he'd become.
His sharp, elegant features were colder now, his eyes carrying that same distant chill. But the way he looked at me? That was new.
Pure disgust, laced with hate.
My heart twisted so hard I thought it'd snap.
Tears burned my eyes. "Damian," I whispered.
The wolves chasing me faltered when they saw him, their bravado crumbling.
Damian's gaze stayed locked on me, his face a mask of ice.
"Who gave you permission to crawl back here?"
I dropped my head, silent.
He didn't know. Of course he didn't.
That rich pup had me thrown into the mental hospital, where I'd been tortured for Three years.
His eyes flicked to the wolves behind me, then to the cash strewn across the ground. One of them jumped, pointing a claw.
"Damian, this gutter rat filched our savings!"
Damian let out a cold, bitter laugh.
"Emily, you've sunk this low?"
I gripped my spasming hand, desperate to shake my head.
"Damian," a silky voice interrupted.
A she-wolf glided forward, her curves practically purring as she hooked her arm through his. She looked at me, feigning surprise.
"Emily!?"
My blood turned to ice.
Brielle Monroe. The she-wolf who'd made my life a living nightmare.
Back then, when my parents died and the grief crushed me, I flunked my exams and ended up in a dead-end school. That's when the torment started.
Ripped books, desks littered with used needles, shredded uniforms, bathroom floors sticky with spilled chemicals.(
I spiraled into depression, and Brielle was the monster at the center of it all-the she-wolf I feared and hated most.
Until Damian, the wolf I grew up with, found out.
He dropped out of his fancy school, transferred to mine, and tore through everyone who'd hurt me.
Brielle was forced out, and I could finally breathe again.
When the nightmares from the bullying came back, Damian was there, whispering, "I'm here," over and over, holding my hand, guiding me back to the light.
Ten years back: Moonlit mating, fangs brushing lips.
Eight years: Clawed ecstasy, howls merging.
Six years: Swore the blood oath-pack, forever.
Three years: I torched his wolf-sister.
Now his fangs seek my throat.
And now, the wolf I loved more than anything was standing side by side with the she-wolf I despised.
Mates.
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7.0
On our anniversary, I was basting the roast when my husband’s encrypted laptop lit up on the kitchen counter.
Alex Bradley, the ruthless Underboss of New York, never made mistakes. But tonight, he left a chat room open.
The notification shattered my world: "Is the idiot eating the dog food yet?"
It was from his mistress, Charlotte.
They were betting on whether I would eat the red velvet cake she had spiked with her Rottweiler’s excrement.
I realized then that my marriage was a long-con. I was just a "placeholder" wife to secure his promotion to Don.
To survive, I had to play the part.
Alex sat on the bed, feeding me the tainted cake with a loving smile.
"Eat up, Jillian," he purred. "It’s to die for."
I swallowed every bite of the filth, forcing myself not to vomit until he left the room.
The humiliation didn't stop there.
I found out our marriage license was void.
He publicly bought me a twenty-million-dollar necklace at a gala, then abandoned me to face the debt, forcing me to hand over my grandmother’s earrings as collateral.
He even watched calmly as his family beat me for a prank Charlotte orchestrated.
But the final blow came when I overheard him planning our "romantic" getaway.
"The blizzard hits Friday," he told Charlotte. "It’ll look like a tragic accident. Hypothermia."
He thought he was taking a lamb to the slaughter.
He didn’t know I had been counting down the days.
When we arrived at the cabin and he went to prepare my "accident," I didn't cry.
I tossed one of my boots over the cliff edge to stage my death.
Then I climbed into the black extraction van waiting in the snow.
Alex Bradley thought he had killed his wife.
He had no idea he had just set her free.
7.3
Arianna Blake thrives on control until Damien Hart enters her life. Tall, commanding, and impossibly magnetic, he doesn't just notice her; he challenges her, unsettles her, and awakens desires she never knew existed.
But passion has its dangers. Damien's ex-fiancée, Laila, watches from the shadows, jealous, calculating, and determined to reclaim what she believes is hers. When someone begins following Arianna, and the line between desire and threat blurs, she realizes that surrendering to Damien might come with more than just heartbreak, it could cost her everything.
Caught between irresistible attraction, hidden agendas, and lurking danger, Arianna must navigate love and peril, trust and betrayal, to discover who is truly hers... and who is dangerously theirs.
"Dangerously Yours" this is a contemporary romance infused with suspense, obsession, and the intoxicating push-and-pull of love and danger.
8.4
I was exactly three thousand words away from eviction when the heir to the New York underworld smashed my laptop and offered me a job instead of an apology.
Dante Vitiello wanted me to write a memoir that would paint him as a saint.
I moved into his penthouse, thinking I could keep things professional. But when his arranged fiancée, the daughter of the Chicago Outfit, arrived, she didn't see an employee. She saw a threat.
She didn't just humiliate me; she leaked fake evidence to the press, branding me as a federal informant.
I woke up in a hospital bed with the word "RAT" plastered across every gossip site.
Sofia’s guards were stationed outside my door, blocking even the nurses. I was a liability. A stain on the Vitiello name.
I knew how these stories ended. The Prince always chooses the Family. The Alliance is more important than the girl.
I was packing my bag, shaking with fear, ready to disappear into the night to save him from ruin.
But Dante didn't come to fire me. He walked into the boardroom where his father and the Chicago Boss were waiting for him to beg for forgiveness.
He looked at the crown that was his birthright, then he looked at the gun on the table.
He didn't kneel. He didn't apologize.
He slammed his weapon down, shattering a hundred-year alliance and forfeiting his empire with a single sentence.
"Keep the crown. I take the girl."
8.1
For two years, I was the perfect daughter-in-law, caring for my "paralyzed" mother-in-law to pay for a mistake my husband, Holden, never let me forget.
The day I found out her paralysis was a lie was the day I also discovered he' d tricked me into signing our divorce papers.
They moved his mistress into our home. When I tried to expose their lies, they had my leg broken and sent me for electroshock therapy, forcing a false confession while my husband watched.
On the night of his wedding to her, I overheard him say his biggest regret was ever marrying me.
That' s when the last of my love finally turned to ash.
Months later, as I turned my back on his pathetic pleas for forgiveness, a speeding car hurtled toward me.
Holden pushed me to safety, sacrificing himself.
Now, he lies broken in a hospital bed, looking at me with hope in his eyes, asking if I can finally forgive him.
8.7
I reached into my underwear while lifting my t-shirt to my belly button, clutching at the semi-erect cock that was only partially awake due to Professor Edmend's ideas. I had no idea the dude wore t-shirts or leather. His formal teaching attire gave off the impression that he was a rigid adherent to the rules.
"You want to fuck, Professor?"
7.0
I wore my favorite emerald silk dress to Per Se, thinking our third anniversary would finally be the night Darius came back to me. My heart was pounding with hope, but the moment he covered the rim of my champagne glass with a cold, marble-like hand, that hope died.
He didn't bring a gift; he brought a personal assistant and a medical consent form. His ex-girlfriend, Hazel, was dying of liver failure, and I was the only compatible match they had found in the world.
The realization hit me like a physical blow: he hadn’t married me for love, but for a "harvest." When I screamed that I wasn't a spare part, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he threatened to pull the funding for my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s care, holding the only family I had left hostage to save his "one who got away." He locked me in our penthouse under a high-tech security protocol, guarded by private contractors like a prisoner in a gilded cage. While I was trapped, he was at the hospital holding Hazel’s hand, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I’d bought him for his birthday.
I watched their updates on social media, Hazel tagging him as her "hero" and "true love," while I was left alone in the dark. Darius told his lawyers I was just being "dramatic" and that I’d get over it once the settlement check cleared. Every memory of our three years together felt like a long-term investment in an organ transplant.
How could I have been so blind? How could the man who promised to cherish me turn into a monster who only saw me as a regenerating asset?
I stopped fighting and started calculating. I agreed to the surgery on one condition: a signed divorce decree and an ironclad trust for my grandmother that he could never touch. I refused his millions, took back my maiden name, and walked into that hospital with my head held high. I was giving them the piece of me they wanted, but it was the last thing they would ever take. As the elevator doors closed on Darius's desperate face, I knew that when I woke up, I would finally be free.