Rejected, My Ex's Brother-in-Law Claims Me
I was kidnapped alongside Cecilia Montoya, the new fiancée of the man who destroyed my life. Her fiancé, Damond Crane, was my ex-mate-the one who framed my father for treason just so he could marry her.
He arrived with a duffel bag full of cash, his face a mask of heroic worry for Cecilia. The Rogues took the money and shoved her into his arms.
But then their leader pointed at me, tied to a pipe in the corner. "What about the spare?" he sneered. "A little extra for the pretty Omega you left behind?"
Damond didn't even hesitate. He looked right at me, his eyes as cold and empty as a winter sky.
"She's nothing," he announced, his voice echoing in the silent warehouse. "A worthless Omega not worth a single coin. Do what you want with her."
He turned his back on me. He walked out the door with his new love, leaving me to be torn apart by monsters. In that moment, my soul didn't just break; it shattered into dust.
Just as the Rogues unbuckled their belts, a shadow dropped from the rafters. It was Waylen Montoya, Cecilia's brother, the most feared Alpha in the region. He landed between me and them, his power a crushing weight. He knelt before me, his voice a low, dangerous promise.
"Did you really think I'd let them have what's mine?"
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Chapter 3
Alessandra POV
The silence in my head was the first mercy I had felt in months. Sitting on the rotting wood of my grandmother's porch, I stared into the dense treeline, the night air cooling the feverish heat radiating from my burnt arm. I had severed the Mind-Link. Just snapped it shut. For an Omega to block her Alpha was unheard of; for a mate to do it was a declaration of war.
But I didn't care. The image of him carrying Isadora—holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world—had cauterized the part of me that used to bleed for him.
A twig snapped. The shadows at the edge of the clearing shifted, coalescing into a towering figure that seemed to suck the light from the moon.
Demetri.
He didn't approach with the grace of a lover. He stalked toward the porch like a predator cornering prey. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and suppressed violence. His Alpha aura slammed into me, demanding submission, but I was too hollow to bow.
You blocked me, Demetri snarled, stopping at the foot of the stairs. His eyes were two chips of obsidian, devoid of warmth. "I have been calling for hours. Do you have a death wish, Alessandra?"
I didn't stand. I didn't tremble. I just looked at him, feeling a strange, detached exhaustion. "I needed some quiet."
His jaw ticked. "Quiet? You are the Luna of this Pack—in title, if not in competence. You do not shut me out. Ever."
Luna, I repeated, the word tasting like ash. "Is that what I am? Or am I just the placeholder you tolerate until you figure out how to install her?"
Demetri mounted the steps, the wood groaning under his weight. He loomed over me, blocking out the stars. "Do not test my patience tonight. Get up. We are going back to the Pack House."
No.
The word hung in the air, fragile but absolute. Demetri froze, looking at me as if the floorboards had spoken.
I stood up then, my legs shaking not from fear, but from the sickness rattling in my chest. I took a breath, the night air searing my lungs, and looked him dead in the eye.
I'm done, Demetri. I can't be your punching bag anymore. I can't watch you love her while I rot in your shadow. My voice gained strength, fueled by the broken shards of my heart. "I, Alessandra Moon, want to reject you as my mate."
The silence that followed was terrifying. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Demetri's face didn't crumble. It hardened into stone. A cruel, cold smile twisted his lips, terrifying in its lack of humor. He stepped into my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head back.
You think you have a choice? His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through my chest. "You think this is a fairy tale where you get to walk away? Your father sold your freedom for the safety of this Pack. You are my mate. You will do your duty until I say otherwise."
My duty? I whispered, tears pricking my eyes despite my resolve. "To be humiliated?"
To be obedient! he roared, his control slipping. "Is this about that pathetic scene with Chrissy? I dealt with her. Stop acting like a petulant child."
He reached out, his hand clamping around my uninjured upper arm. The moment his skin touched mine, the spark—that cursed, electric jolt of the Mate Bond—arced between us. But instead of pleasure, it felt like a brand.
Demetri frowned, his grip tightening not in anger, but in confusion. He pulled me closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my face. "You're burning up."
I tried to pull away, dizziness swaying the world. "Let me go."
You have a fever, he stated, his tone shifting from accuser to Alpha commander. He ignored my resistance, his hand moving to my forehead. "You're shaking. Why didn't you say you were sick?"
It doesn't matter, I rasped, panic beginning to claw at my throat. "Leave me alone."
We are going to the clinic, Demetri decided, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Adan needs to look at that burn and this fever."
The Clinic. Adan.
Ice flooded my veins, instantly overpowering the fever. Adan was the best Healer in the territory. If he examined me, if he ran even a basic scan of my vitals, he would hear the second heartbeat. He would find the pup.
And if Demetri knew... if he knew I was carrying his heir while he pined for Isadora... he would take the baby. He would lock me away or, worse, hand my child to Isadora to raise.
No! The scream tore from my throat, primal and terrified.
Demetri moved to scoop me up, but I exploded into motion. I wasn't fighting as Alessandra the weak Omega; I was fighting as a mother. I clawed at his chest, my nails digging into his expensive shirt. I kicked out, my heel connecting with his shin.
Put me down! I shrieked, thrashing in his arms like a wild animal. "I'm not going to the clinic! I won't go!"
Stop this madness! Demetri grunted, tightening his hold to keep me from falling. He looked genuinely shocked by my violence. "You are ill, Alessandra! Stop fighting me!"
I won't let you take me there! I sobbed, hitting his shoulder, desperation making me delirious. "Let me go!"
Enough! Demetri growled, his patience snapping. He didn't see the fear; he only saw defiance. He saw an Omega challenging her Alpha.
He clamped my arms to my sides, crushing me against his chest with unbreakable strength. He marched toward his black Bentley parked on the gravel road, ignoring my pleas.
You are going, he snarled, wrenching the passenger door open. "And you will learn to stop fighting the hand that protects you."
He shoved me into the leather seat, unaware that the only thing I needed protection from was him.
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8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
8.0
Love and revenge don't mix well in the dark streets of Milan.
When Daisy Fontana stepped into her engagement party at the Marino mansion, she thought she had it all. A handsome fiancé from one of Milan's most powerful families, a bright future ahead, and a perfect life far from her father's reach. But that dream shattered in a single night when her sister Sofia exposed her family's little secret... she wasn't really a Fontana at all.
Daisy was humiliated and cast aside by her fiancé Antonio, so she came up with what she thought was the perfect revenge. She'd get close to Antonio's father, the feared Don Vincenzo Marino, by becoming his assistant. In her mind, it was simple: make Antonio jealous by becoming important to his father's empire. Then hopefully that would make him realise he made a mistake by letting her go.
But what Daisy didn't know was that Vincenzo had watched her for a while, hoping for a chance. While she plotted her little revenge against the son, she had no idea she was walking straight into the arms of a man who had craved her for a while. She was supposed to get back at the son, but didn't expect she'd be falling for the father.
9.5
Alina was the eldest daughter of the prestigious Padilla family, but everyone mocked her as a defective dud who couldn't cast a single spell.
The moment she woke up, her father and younger sister Karina barged into her room, demanding she sign a transfer agreement to the Aethelgard Order-the most brutal faction on the continent.
It wasn't just a transfer; it was a legal disownment. In her past life, Alina didn't realize Karina was also reborn. She had dropped to her knees and begged to stay. Her reward? Her magic was violently drained from her veins by her own family. Her fiancé drove a blade through her chest, and her sister stood over her bleeding body, smiling. She had ruined her hands making potions for them, only to be discarded like trash.
The phantom pain of her chest being ripped open still burned behind her ribs. Looking at the hypocritical family waiting for her tears, she felt nothing but exhausting disgust. Why should she ever be their stepping stone again?
"For the honor of the family, you leave today."
Her father sneered as she calmly bit her thumb and pressed her bloody fingerprint onto the contract. This time, Alina didn't cry. She packed a single bag and walked out the door, heading straight for the deadly Aethelgard Order to show them what a true monster looked like.
7.4
"You can't escape me, Aurora. You are mine!"
The Alpha King's roar echoed through the palace walls.
But Aurora just tightened her grip on the blade hidden beneath her cloak.
She would never-never-give herself to the monster who murdered her father.
Even if the Moon Goddess cursed her to be his mate.
***
Aurora Regalia once had everything-a loving father, a prosperous pack, and a future that glittered with promise. Her father, the king, even chose her a mate: Logan Charming. Powerful. Charismatic. Cursed.
She thought he was her destiny.
Then she watched him tear her father's head from his shoulders.
One night. One betrayal. Her entire family, slaughtered. Her pack, reduced to ashes.
Aurora jumped off a cliff that night-not to die, but to survive. To become something her enemies would never see coming.
An assassin. A ghost. A blade wrapped in silk.
For years, she trained in the shadows, fueled by one single purpose: revenge. Blood for blood. She would make Logan Charming suffer the way she had suffered. She would carve his heart out and feel nothing.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
The Moon Goddess looked down at her shattered daughter and laughed.
Because the man who destroyed her life?
The monster who wore her father's blood on his hands?
He was her fated mate.
Now Aurora stands at a crossroads she never asked for. Every instinct screams for vengeance. Every fiber of her being recoils at the bond pulling her toward him.
But Logan? He doesn't care about her hatred. He doesn't care about her blade.
"You can run, little mate," he whispers, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark. "But I will always find you."
And when he does?
He won't just cage her body.
He'll claim her soul.
9.3
She's sin wrapped in a nun habit.
He is the devil who makes her want to confess.
Luciano Moretti, the mafia's most feared enforcer, kills without hesitation, prays to no god, and bleeds for the Cosa Nostra.
Sister Elizabeth has spent her life behind church walls, burying her desires under layers of penance and prayer. She is supposed to be untouchable-a quiet, secluded nun devoted to faith.
But when she finds him bleeding on the altar one night, their worlds collide in a sin neither heaven nor hell can cleanse.
He's meant to marry her sister to seal a deal between two mafia empires.
She's meant to keep her vows and distance.
But temptation has a cruel sense of humour...
Because he's the last man she should want.
She's the only woman he can't have.
But one touch, one look, and everything sacred begins to crumble.
Luciano does not seek salvation. Instead, he lures her into a dangerous path, one that includes everything she is meant to avoid, and everytime she whispers "forgive me, Father," her soul sinks deeper into him.
As bloodlines clash and loyalty turns to betrayal, Elizabeth learns that the war outside the chapel isn't the only one she must survive. Because Luciano's world is built on violence and secrets, one of which binds her fate to his in ways neither of them saw coming.
Desire clashes with devotion.
Duty turns to betrayal.
And when they're both drowning in a love so forbidden, not even God can save them.
7.1
I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive.
Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice.
"It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison."
She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath.
Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him.
"I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."