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 7
Alessandra POV
Isadora's words were a physical blow, harder than any fist. Marking. The very word sent a phantom pain searing through my neck, my own wolf whimpering in the back of my mind. The bond between Demetri and me, already frayed, felt like it was being strangled by an invisible noose.
He feels so guilty, Isadora continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though her eyes danced with malice. She touched her throat, tracing the porcelain skin where an Alpha's bite would go. "He promised that once I'm strong enough... I'll finally take my rightful place as Luna. It's what the pack wants. It's what he wants."
I couldn't breathe. The air around me turned thin and sharp, smelling of her cloying perfume and my own impending heartbreak. "He... he wouldn't," I stammered, the denial tasting like ash on my tongue.
Wouldn't he? Isadora smirked, tilting her head. "Why do you think he kept you a secret? You were a convenience, Alessandra. A warm body to keep his bed from getting cold while he waited for me."
She wheeled herself closer, her expression shifting suddenly to one of distress as she glanced over my shoulder. "Oh, my wheel... it's stuck. Could you?"
I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me to run, to get away from this viper, but the ingrained habit of an Omega—to serve, to help—made me step forward. I bent down toward the sleek metal of her chair. "Where is it—"
Isadora's hand shot out, clamping onto my forearm with surprising strength. She yanked me down until my ear was inches from her lips. The fragility vanished, replaced by a predator's cold focus.
It must have been fun warming his bed, she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Thinking you could ever be more than a placeholder. You pathetic little Omega."
I froze, paralyzed by the sheer toxicity of her tone. In that split second of my shock, Isadora threw her weight backward.
No! she shrieked, her voice piercing the night air. "Alessandra, please don't!"
With a violent jerk, she tipped the wheelchair over. Metal crashed against the pavement, and Isadora hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Isadora! Chrissy screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Alpha! I saw it! She pushed her!"
Before I could even process the setup, the atmosphere exploded. A wave of pure, unadulterated Alpha power slammed into me before I saw him.
Demetri, wait—
I didn't get to finish. A hand of steel slammed into my chest, not to hold, but to repel. Demetri didn't just push me; he unleashed his fury. I flew backward, the world spinning until my spine collided with the iron railing of the restaurant steps.
Crack.
Agony radiated from my lower back, blinding and white-hot. I crumpled to the concrete, gasping for air that wouldn't come. Through the haze of pain, I saw Demetri kneeling beside Isadora, his face a mask of terror I had never seen him wear for me.
Issy, he choked out, gathering her into his arms. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, staining his white shirt.
I didn't... I wheezed, trying to push myself up, but a sharp, cramping pain twisted in my lower abdomen. "Demetri, I didn't touch her..."
He turned to me then. His eyes were pitch black, his wolf fully surfaced and murderous. "Silence!"
The command vibrated through my bones, forcing my mouth shut against my will. He stood, lifting Isadora as if she weighed nothing. He looked at me with such profound hatred that my soul withered.
If anything happens to her, he snarled, his voice low and deadly, "I will destroy you."
He turned his back on me, marching toward his car. Chrissy scrambled after them, casting a triumphant sneer in my direction.
I tried to call out, but the pain in my stomach sharpened into a knife twist. A warm, wet sensation spread between my legs. Panic, cold and absolute, flooded my veins.
No, I whispered, clutching my stomach as the world began to tilt and gray. "My baby..."
The darkness rushed in, swallowing me whole.
Demetri POV
The drive to the Pack Clinic was a blur of red rage and white fear. Isadora was sobbing softly against my chest, her small body trembling. But as I paced the sterile hallway of the private ward, the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind a gnawing unease.
My wolf paced in the back of my mind, agitated, scratching at the walls of my skull. Mate hurt. Mate bleeding.
I shoved the thought away. Alessandra had attacked Isadora. I saw Isadora on the ground. I heard Chrissy. The evidence was right there.
I pushed open the door to the private ward. Isadora lay on the bed, a small bandage on her forehead. She looked tiny, fragile—everything Alessandra was not.
Demetri, she breathed, reaching for my hand.
Tell me what happened, I demanded, though my voice was gentle. "Did she threaten you?"
Isadora looked down, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. "Please, Demetri. Don't be angry with her. She... she was upset. I think she's jealous." She squeezed my hand, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. "She's just an Omega. She gets emotional. It was my fault for provoking her with my presence. I shouldn't have come."
The knot in my chest loosened. It made sense. Alessandra was weak, prone to outbursts. Isadora was an angel, defending the very woman who hurt her.
Rest, I said, kissing her knuckles. "I'll handle it."
I turned and walked out, the doubt in my gut silenced by my anger. I didn't see the way Isadora's tears instantly dried, or the cold, victorious smile that curled her lips as the door clicked shut.
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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."