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 5
Alessandra POV
The dawn light that bled through the heavy curtains of the Alpha's suite was gray and lifeless, matching the hollow cavity in my chest. I lay still, my breathing shallow and measured, feigning sleep when the door clicked open.
Demetri entered. The air in the room shifted, but not in the way that usually made my soul sing. Typically, his scent—rainstorm and deep pine—would wrap around me like a protective blanket. Today, it choked me.
Clinging to him, woven into the very fabric of his clothes, was her.
Isadora.
It was a sickly, floral perfume, cloying and heavy, like flowers left too long on a grave. It screamed of intimacy. It screamed of long hours spent holding her, comforting her, letting her mark him with her synthetic stench while I lay here, burning with fever and carrying his heir.
He didn't look at me. I watched through the screen of my lashes as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. His movements were stiff, his jaw set in a hard line. He walked straight into the bathroom, and moments later, the shower turned on.
He was washing her off. Or maybe he was washing me off, preparing to go back to her fresh.
The sound of the water was a roar in the silence. I didn't cry. I had shed my last tear last night when I shredded the medical report into confetti. The pain was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.
He made his choice, my wolf whimpered, curling into a ball in the back of my mind. Now we must make ours.
I placed a hand over my flat stomach. "I won't let him break you, little one," I whispered into the gloom. "We're leaving."
By evening, the suffocating silence of the Pack House was driving me mad. When Kaia showed up at my door, demanding I join her at The Howling Oak, I didn't have the energy to fight her.
You look like a ghost, Ali, Kaia said, dragging me toward a booth in the bustling grill. "You need grease, alcohol, and noise. In that order."
No alcohol, I murmured, sliding into the wooden booth. "Just soda."
Suit yourself. Kaia grinned, her eyes sparkling with a mischief I hadn't seen in months. "Besides, I have someone I want you to meet."
A man approached our table. He was tall, with sandy blonde hair and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He moved with the fluid grace of a wolf, but something about him set my teeth on edge.
Alessandra, this is Caleb Vance, Kaia introduced, beaming. "From the Ironwood Pack."
Caleb extended a hand. "The famous Alessandra. Kaia talks about you incessantly."
I took his hand, expecting a polite shake. Instead, he squeezed too hard, his thumb dragging deliberately across my palm. His nail scratched the sensitive skin—a subtle, nasty gesture of disrespect masked as a greeting.
Charmed, he said, his voice slick.
I pulled my hand back as if burned. A wave of nausea rolled through me, violent and sudden. It wasn't just the morning sickness; it was a warning. My baby, even as a tiny spark of life, rejected him.
Excuse me, I choked out, sliding out of the booth. "Restroom."
I rushed down the dimly lit hallway, the noise of the bar fading. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to scrub away the feeling of Caleb's skin on mine. When the nausea finally subsided, I stepped back into the corridor, only to freeze.
Voices drifted from the shadows near the emergency exit.
...easy prey, a male voice sneered. Caleb. "The Moran girl is desperate for attention. One good marking, and I'll have her pack eating out of my hand."
My blood ran cold.
And the other one? another voice asked—one of his lackeys.
The Omega? Caleb laughed, a low, ugly sound. "She's a bonus. I've always wanted to taste what the Stonecrest Alpha keeps locked away. Maybe I'll break her in before I take over the Moran territory."
Rage, hot and blinding, flooded my veins. He wasn't just a creep; he was a predator plotting against my best friend.
I stepped out of the shadows just as Caleb turned the corner. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed into a smirk. He didn't look ashamed. He looked hungry.
Done throwing up, sweetheart? He took a step toward me, blocking my path back to the main room. His gaze raked over my body, lingering on my chest. "You know, you're too pretty to be a servant. I could show you a better time than Hamilton ever could."
My hand found a half-empty glass of cranberry soda someone had left on a side table. My knuckles turned white.
Get out of my way, Caleb, I said, my voice trembling not with fear, but with fury.
He chuckled, stepping closer, invading my personal space. The smell of cheap cologne and stale beer assaulted my nose. "Don't play hard to get. I know what you Omegas are like. You crave a real Alpha."
He reached for my waist.
Snap.
I didn't think. I swung the glass.
Ice, red syrup, and carbonated water exploded across his face.
Caleb sputtered, stumbling back, the sticky red liquid dripping from his nose and chin like blood. The bar went silent around us, or maybe that was just the rushing in my ears.
Slowly, Caleb wiped his eyes. When he opened them, the human mask was gone. His irises bled into the glowing yellow of his wolf. A low, dangerous growl ripped from his throat.
You little bitch, he snarled, lunging forward. His hand clamped around my wrist, crushing the bone. "I'll teach you some respect!"
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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."