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 4
Alessandra POV
I said no! I shrieked, my fist connecting with Demetri's shoulder. It was like hitting a wall of granite.
Demetri swore, the sound vibrating against my chest. He stopped wrestling me toward the Bentley and instead slammed me against the side of the car, pinning me with his hips. His eyes were swirling pools of obsidian fury.
You are hysterical, he snarled, his breath hot on my face. "If you think I am going to drag a screaming, thrashing Luna into the Pack Clinic for everyone to see, you are mistaken. I will not have you embarrass me."
Then let me go, I gasped, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs—a rhythm that hid the tiny, fluttering second heartbeat within me. He can't take me to Adan. He can't know.
Change of plans, Demetri growled. He yanked the car door open, but instead of shoving me in, he leaned in and grabbed his keys, then slammed it shut. Before I could react, he scooped me up into his arms again, turning toward the Pack House. "We are going to my suite. I will deal with your fever myself."
My stomach dropped. The Alpha's Suite. His territory. His cage. But at least it wasn't the clinic. At least my secret was safe for one more hour.
The elevator ride was suffocating. Demetri didn't speak; he just radiated waves of anger and ozone. When the doors slid open to the penthouse, he marched into the master bedroom—a cavernous space of black silk and dark wood that smelled overwhelmingly of him—and dumped me onto the massive bed.
I bounced on the mattress, dizziness spinning the room. My burnt arm throbbed, but the fever was making my skin feel like it was on fire.
Demetri stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me. Then, with a sharp, impatient movement, he began to unbutton his dress shirt.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through my fever. I scrambled backward, pressing my spine against the headboard. "What... what are you doing?"
He didn't answer. He tossed his shirt onto a chair, revealing the sculpted expanse of his chest, the muscles rippling under tanned skin. He reached for his belt buckle.
No! The scream tore from my throat. I curled into a ball, shielding my stomach. "Don't touch me! Not after her! Stay away!"
Demetri froze. His hands hovered over his belt, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock, and then to a dark, offended scowl.
Do you think I am some rogue animal? he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "I am not going to force myself on a sick, delirious woman, Alessandra. Look at you. You are burning up."
He turned his back on me, walking toward the ensuite bathroom. "I am drawing you a cold bath. Get in. Now."
I blinked, the adrenaline crashing, leaving me trembling. He wasn't... he didn't want me. Of course. He had Isadora.
I stumbled into the bathroom. The tub was already filling. I gripped the marble counter, swaying. Demetri was there instantly, his hands gripping my waist to steady me.
The moment his skin touched mine, the spark arced between us—violent and undeniable. I gasped, and his pupils dilated, his wolf responding to the mate bond despite his anger.
Let me help you, he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rough with suppressed instinct. His fingers grazed the hem of my shirt.
No. I shoved his hands away, clutching my collar. The electricity felt like a betrayal. "Get out. I can do it myself."
Alessandra—
I said get out! I cried, tears stinging my eyes. "Leave me some dignity, Demetri."
He stared at me for a long moment, his jaw working. The air crackled with his dominance, warring with something else—regret? No, that was impossible. Finally, he gave a curt nod and backed out, closing the door.
When I emerged twenty minutes later, wrapped in a thick towel, the fever had receded slightly, but the exhaustion was bone-deep.
Demetri was waiting. He had changed into sweatpants, his chest bare. Without a word, he pointed to the vanity stool. "Sit."
I was too tired to fight. I sat. He picked up a hairdryer, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he began to dry my damp hair. The domesticity of it was terrifying. It was a lie.
When he finished, he set the dryer down and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at our reflection in the mirror. He looked at my flushed face, my wet lashes, and a low growl rumbled in his chest.
Don't you ever look at another male with those eyes, he whispered, his gaze locking onto mine in the glass. "You are mine, Alessandra. Do you understand? My mark is on your soul."
He leaned down, pressing a cold, hard kiss to my forehead. It wasn't affection; it was a brand. A warning.
Suddenly, Demetri stiffened. His eyes glazed over, the amber iris swallowed by the distant fog of a Mind-Link.
I watched his face change. The possessive Alpha vanished, replaced by worry. Pure, unadulterated concern.
I'm coming, he said aloud, his voice soft.
He pulled away from me as if I were on fire. He grabbed a fresh shirt, not even buttoning it fully before heading for the door.
It's her, isn't it? I whispered to the empty room. "Isadora."
He paused at the door, not looking back. "She needs me."
Then he was gone.
The silence he left behind was louder than his shouting. He had held me, claimed me as his, and then ran to her the second she called.
I walked over to my discarded bag. My hands shaking, I pulled out the envelope I had stolen from the grandmother's house—the copy of my medical file. The proof.
Pregnancy Confirmed. 6 Weeks.
I looked at the door he had just walked out of. He would never choose us. He would take my baby and give it to her.
With a sob that felt like my heart ripping in two, I tore the paper. Once. Twice. Until it was nothing but confetti on the black carpet.
You will never know, I vowed to the shadows. "You don't deserve to know."
Demetri POV
The Pack Clinic
Demetri burst into the private room, his chest heaving. Isadora lay on the narrow bed, wrapped in a deep purple silk robe that slipped off one shoulder. She looked pale, fragile—a stark contrast to the woman who had fought him in the penthouse.
Demetri, she whimpered, tears spilling from her wide eyes. "I... I felt a pain. I was so scared."
I'm here, Demetri said, stepping closer, guilt gnawing at him.
Isadora sat up and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his bare chest. She inhaled his scent, masking the lingering smell of Alessandra with her own cloying perfume.
Please, Demetri, she begged, looking up at him with trembling lips. "Don't leave me alone tonight. I can't bear it. Stay with me?"
Demetri looked down at her, then back toward the door, toward the Pack House where his mate sat alone. But Isadora was trembling in his arms.
He closed his eyes, the bond with Alessandra aching in his chest, but his duty—and his heart's confusion—anchored him here.
Okay, he whispered. "I'll stay."
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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."