Reborn And Remade: The Exiled Matriarch
A jagged spike of agony woke Kiana up in a filthy stone room.
She had transmigrated into the body of a notorious, exiled matriarch in a brutal wasteland.
Before she could even process her new reality, she saw a massive, bloodied man huddled in the corner, trembling in absolute terror.
Foreign memories detonated in her brain: the original Kiana swinging a spiked whip, laughing as she tore his flesh open.
He was her husband, and she was a monster who tortured her own consorts.
The situation was a complete death trap.
Another husband stormed in, throwing down a marriage contract and demanding to sever their ties, which would leave her to be eaten by mutated beasts.
Outside, her third husband lay dying from a toxic wound while the rest of the tribe mocked her, eagerly waiting for her downfall.
Scanning her own body, Kiana discovered her face was covered in ugly purple bruises.
The original host hadn't just been naturally insane; she had been secretly fed a chronic poison by political enemies, destroying her beauty and driving her mad until she was exiled.
As a survivor from a modern apocalypse, the sight of broken, enslaved men made her skin crawl.
She refused to die in this savage wasteland as a pawn in someone else's twisted game.
Kiana tossed the contract back to the furious man.
"Give me three months. I will save him, and I swear I won't touch you."
With her apocalyptic healing powers and a newly awakened Spatial System, she was going to rewrite the rules of this primitive world.
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Chapter 7
The deeper they walked into the forest, the thicker the trunks became. The canopy overhead wove together into a solid roof of dark green leaves, suffocating the light.
Kiana tilted her head back, scanning the high branches for any signs of edible fruit or bird nests.
Suddenly, a microscopic rustle of leaves echoed from the branch directly above her head.
Gunner's snake-like pupils contracted into pinpricks. The muscles in his thighs bunched.
"Watch out!" Gunner roared.
He threw his entire body weight forward and shoved Kiana hard in the chest.
In the exact fraction of a second that Kiana stumbled backward, a mutated lynx the size of a full-grown leopard dropped from the canopy. Thick, razor-sharp bone spikes protruded from its spine.
Its massive claws slammed into the dirt exactly where Kiana had been standing, ripping deep trenches into the soil.
Kiana hit the trunk of a massive tree back-first. The air rushed out of her lungs in a painful grunt.
The mutated lynx missed its prey. It let out an ear-piercing shriek, spun around on its hind legs, and lunged straight at Gunner's throat.
Gunner didn't step back. He stepped in.
His bone knife flashed in the dim light. He twisted his torso, letting the lynx's claws slice through the air inches from his chest. With brutal precision, he drove the bone knife deep into the soft flesh behind the beast's ribs.
The lynx screamed in agony. It thrashed wildly, whipping its spiked tail toward Gunner's head.
Gunner ripped the knife out, pivoted on his heel, and delivered a devastating kick to the side of the lynx's skull.
The heavy thud of bone cracking echoed through the trees. The beast flew through the air, crashed into the dirt, and twitched violently before going completely still.
The entire fight lasted less than four seconds.
Kiana leaned against the tree, her chest heaving. She stared at Gunner's broad back, genuinely impressed by his lethal efficiency.
Kiana pushed herself off the massive tree trunk, taking a step toward the dead carcass to inspect the kill. However, the dim lighting of the canopy obscured a deep, sinkhole-like crevice hidden beneath a thick layer of rotting leaves and vines. As her boot came down, the ground gave way entirely.
She lost her balance entirely. Her body pitched sideways, falling fast toward a cluster of jagged, sharp rocks protruding from the bottom of the hidden pit.
Gunner saw her falling out of the corner of his eye. His heart slammed against his ribs.
He exploded off his back foot, moving faster than humanly possible.
A split second before Kiana's skull hit the rocks, Gunner's thick, muscular arms wrapped securely around her waist and shoulders.
He took the brunt of the momentum, pulling her hard against his chest.
Kiana slammed into his warm, solid body. Their chests pressed tightly together. She could feel his heart hammering wildly against her own.
Gunner's breathing was ragged. He looked down at her face, his eyes dark with a sudden, intense fear of losing her.
In that exact moment of intense physical contact, a sharp, synthetic chime rang out inside Kiana's brain.
[BEEP—Deep physical contact with eligible Consort detected.]
[System Note: Prior contact failed to meet full bio-resonance calibration threshold. Current neural-hormonal signature now exceeds activation parameters.]
[The Oracle System is activating... 10%... 50%... 100%!]
[System Activation Successful. Welcome, Host Kiana.]
Kiana's breath hitched. Her eyes widened in absolute shock as the mechanical voice echoed in her skull.
Gunner felt her body stiffen. He thought she was terrified from the near-death experience. His large hand awkwardly patted the middle of her back. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice rough.
Kiana snapped back to reality. Her gaze dropped to the jagged rocks jutting inches from her boots—a single wrong step would snap bone. She stilled her hands against his chest, not shoving him away. "Get us out of this pit first," she said, her voice tight. "Then I'll tell you if I'm hurt."
Gunner's serpentine eyes swept the crevice wall, calculating every handhold in the near-darkness, and pulled her toward the safest ascent.
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8.9
Jason's life was a canvas of broken colors, painted by the harsh brushstrokes of his reality. Craving connection, craving love, but stuck in a home that felt like a prison. So, he broke free, embracing the unknown. New streets, new faces, new demons... and a new lease on life. Little did he know, some encounters would leave scars, while others would expose him to the raw truth."
8.4
My mate, Alpha Santino, brought another woman into our home. She was a pregnant Omega, the widow of his fallen Beta, and he swore to protect her above all others.
He gave her my seat of honor, left our bed cold each night to soothe her feigned nightmares, and ignored me completely. I was the Luna of the Blackstone Pack, but I was becoming a ghost in my own life.
The final betrayal happened in my own bedroom. She stood over my vanity and deliberately shattered my mother's sacred moonstone necklace, the last piece of my family I had left.
When Santino burst in, he didn't see my heartbreak. He saw only her fake tears.
"What did you do to her?!" he roared, his voice laced with the Alpha's Command, a sacred power he used to crush my will.
Then, for her, he did the unforgivable. He raised his hand and struck me, his mate.
In that instant, the love I had desperately clung to turned to ice. The man I had sworn my life to had not only betrayed me but had defiled the sacred bond the Goddess herself had blessed.
As the pain of his betrayal ripped through me, something ancient and powerful awakened in my blood. I rose to my feet and spoke the words that would destroy his world and begin mine.
"I, Alessia Bianchi, reject you, Santino Moretti, as my mate."
7.2
I woke up in a lavish bedroom, only to find a man built like a god of war chained to my wall, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
A glowing apparition appeared and told me I had died in a car crash and transmigrated into the body of Elara, a tyrant Luna. Worse, the chained man was Ryker, one of my six fated mates whom the original Elara had brutally tortured.
Because of her sadistic crimes-starving them, exiling them, and sending two of them on a suicide mission-my affinity with them was at negative five hundred. The apparition delivered my terrifying death sentence.
"In three days, at the Marking Ceremony, you will be killed by your six mates."
No matter what I did-freeing Ryker, sharing my food, or lifting their brother's exile-they viewed every act of kindness as a sick, twisted trap. They were just waiting for the punchline to my cruel joke, ready to expose me and end my life.
I was just a librarian who organized book clubs and paid my taxes. Why did the Goddess throw me into this doomed vessel to pay for a psychopath's blood debts? How was I supposed to survive when the men destined to love me were actively plotting to rip my throat out?
Cornered by their righteous fury, I realized playing defense wouldn't work. I grabbed a dagger, sliced my own palm over the ceremonial stone, and swore a blood oath to bring their missing brothers home-or initiate a soul-shattering Rejection Ceremony myself.
7.9
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own.
But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin.
Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore.
The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership.
Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child.
But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer.
She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast.
She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated.
They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life.
But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave.
She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised.
Estrella's soul had survived the abyss.
"You're going to pay for every drop of blood."
She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever.
9.4
I was the eldest daughter of the powerful Kirk family, sent away to a Swiss sanatorium to recover from my supposed mental illness.
But my stepmother, Johnie, never intended for me to get better. She sent her personal cleaners to drag me onto a plane back to Washington D.C.
In my past life, I didn't know they were assassins. I was forcefully injected with heavy sedatives and locked in a secret torture chamber inside our luxury estate.
My stepmother and cousin skimmed my inheritance while watching me suffer.
They framed me as a crazy addict, and my own father, a sitting Senator, turned a blind eye to protect his political career.
"Her political value is gone, just get rid of her quietly."
That was the last thing I heard my father say before I was brutally slaughtered by my own family.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand why they hated me so much.
Why did my father let them force those pills down my throat?
Why was my life worth less than my stepmother's public image?
Opening my eyes again, the freezing sensation of lake water filling my lungs vanished.
I was back in the VIP room of the St. Moritz Sanatorium in 2023.
It was the exact morning before the cleaners walked through my door with uncapped syringes.
This time, I wouldn't just survive. I was going to cut the throat of the Kirk family.
7.2
Christa discovered her adopted daughter Evelyn was sneaking around with a street thug named Dante.
When she furiously confronted her, Evelyn squeezed out a few tears and played the tragic, abused orphan.
"Mom is so cruel to me, I just want someone to love me," Evelyn cried to the men of the house, who instantly took her side.
Christa didn't realize her anger only gave the girl the perfect victim card. Evelyn manipulated the family's guilt to drain their wealth and orchestrate a massive corporate fraud.
When the authorities closed in, Evelyn let Christa's eldest daughter Julianna take the fall, sending her to federal prison.
The Stephenson family went completely bankrupt.
Christa's husband Grant, crushed by the betrayal and debt, jumped off a Manhattan skyscraper.
Until her family was entirely destroyed, Christa couldn't understand. They had given the orphan a home, a trust fund, and endless love.
Why did Evelyn treat them like easy marks? Why did she use their kindness as a weapon to tear them apart?
Opening her eyes again, Christa saw the heavy velvet drapes letting in the pale morning light.
She was back seven years ago, on the exact day she first caught Evelyn texting that thug.
This time, Christa wouldn't scream or fight. She would cut off the money, drop the rules, and watch the parasite dig her own grave.