
Rising From Ashes: The Betrayed Queen Returns
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I woke up strapped to a freezing operating table, a gaping hole crudely sutured over my heart.
Joi Rocha, my supposed guardian, stood nearby holding a glowing vial that contained my freshly extracted Phoenix gene sequence.
"Don't blame me, sweetheart. Gayla's body is just too weak. She needs this sequence more than you do."
In my past life, I endured years of illegal biological harvests for this family. My fiancé Brennon watched with cold eyes as they ripped the gene from my chest, while the elite academy students filmed and mocked my bleeding, broken body. They stripped me of my status, drained every drop of my worth, and left me to die in a freezing tomb just so their precious fake daughter could thrive.
Until my dying breath, I didn't understand. I had given them my absolute loyalty, so why was I treated like disposable medical waste? Why did my life mean absolutely nothing to them?
But opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the exact day they stole my core.
This time, I didn't cry or beg. I stared dead into Joi's eyes and smiled.
I detonated the residual energy in my chest to incinerate Gayla's stolen sequence, faked my own flatline, and injected myself with a hidden dark matter drive to completely rewrite my DNA.
If they wanted to play God with my life, I was going to burn their entire world to ash.
Rising From Ashes: The Betrayed Queen Returns Chapter 1
"Don't blame me, sweetheart. Gayla's body is just too weak. She needs this sequence more than you do."
The words sliced through the sterile air before Aislinn even opened her eyes.
A blinding, surgical white light seared her retinas the second her eyelids fluttered apart. She squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach dropping into a bottomless pit. She tried to raise her hand to block the glare, but her wrists wouldn't budge.
High-polymer restraint straps bit into her skin, pinning her limbs to the freezing metal of the operating table.
A tearing, agonizing pain ripped through her chest. It felt like someone had buried a jagged piece of glass under her ribs and twisted it. Aislinn forced her chin down. Just above her heart, a crudely sutured hole wept fresh blood onto the pristine white sheets.
The heart monitor next to her head screamed in a rapid, frantic rhythm. Beep. Beep. Beep. It was the sound of massive blood loss. The sound of her dying.
Her pupils dilated. The air in her lungs turned to liquid ice.
The memories hit her like a physical blow to the skull. The torture. The Emerald Spire Academy. The way they had bled her dry in her past life until her heart gave out. Her brain rewired the information in a fraction of a second.
She was back. She had woken up on the exact day they ripped the Phoenix gene sequence from her chest.
The heavy click of a thermal lock echoing through the massive underground lab snapped her focus back to the present.
Aislinn turned her head. Her neck muscles screamed in protest. Through the sterile glass partition, she locked eyes on Joi Rocha.
Joi stood at the main console. She was staring at a glowing blue cryogenic vial with a look of pure, sickening maternal devotion. That vial held Aislinn's stolen gene sequence.
Joi felt the weight of the stare. She turned and walked over to the operating table, her high heels clicking a steady, merciless rhythm against the metal floor. She looked down at Aislinn.
Joi reached out. She meticulously adjusted the cuff of her latex medical glove, a nervous habit she used to mask her cruelty, before brushing a damp strand of hair from Aislinn's sweating forehead.
The cold latex against her skin made bile rise in the back of Aislinn's throat. Her stomach violently contracted.
She didn't cry. She didn't scream why. She just stared dead into Joi's eyes, her lips pulling back into a slow, bloodless smile. It was a smile completely devoid of sanity.
Joi flinched. The absolute deadness in Aislinn's eyes sent a visible shudder down the older woman's spine. She snatched her hand back.
To cover her sudden unease, Joi turned her back to the table.
"Cut her pain inhibitors," Joi ordered the room's medical AI, her voice stripped of all fake warmth. "We don't want the drugs interfering with her cellular regeneration."
The AI chirped compliance.
Aislinn's back arched off the table. The pain multiplied by a thousand. It exploded from the hole in her chest and shot through every nerve ending in her body like liquid fire.
She bit down on her lower lip. She bit down until the copper taste of her own blood flooded her mouth, but she refused to make a single sound. Her chest heaved, pulling in jagged breaths of sterile air.
Joi picked up the thermal case holding the blue vial. She walked toward the lab's heavy vault door.
"If you survive the night," Joi threw the words over her shoulder without looking back, "the logistics department in the lower levels will find a mop for you."
The massive alloy door slammed shut. The locking mechanisms ground into place, sealing Aislinn inside the freezing tomb.
Aislinn gasped for air. Cold sweat dripped from her chin, pooling on the metal table. But her eyes were clearer than they had ever been. They were lethal.
She closed her eyes and forced her consciousness deep into the burning wreckage of her own body. She searched the empty void where her gene sequence used to be.
There.
Hidden in the biological wasteland of her chest, she found it. A single, microscopic spark of crimson energy. The residual core of the Phoenix gene.
Aislinn grit her teeth against the tearing of her nerves. She wrapped her sheer willpower around that tiny spark.
Above her, the lab's warning lights flared a harsh yellow. The AI detected an abnormal biological energy surge.
Aislinn's eyes snapped open. A feverish, manic resolve burned in her irises. She began to force her bio-electricity to flow backward.
The restraint straps groaned under the sudden, violent spasms of her muscles. Her veins bulged against her pale skin.
If you want it so badly, Aislinn thought, her heart hammering against her ribs, I'll give you a surprise that will burn you to ash.
She compressed the residual energy tighter and tighter. She pushed it right to the edge of a catastrophic physical explosion.
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Rising From Ashes: The Betrayed Queen Returns of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5Chapter 6 Ch. 6Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."

8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.

8.0
Finley's stepfather gave her a sickening ultimatum: marry her predatory stepbrother Shane tonight, or he would throw her fragile mother out on the street.
To escape this hell, she used a matchmaking agency and hastily married a complete stranger. Garrison Strickland claimed to be an ordinary data analyst making $95,000 a year, driving a beat-up Honda Civic, and needing a wife in name only. They got their marriage license at City Hall that very afternoon.
But when Finley returned home to pack her bags and threw the certificate on the table, her family just laughed. Dozier ordered Shane to drag her into the bedroom to "teach her a lesson" and trap her forever.
"Come on, little sister," Shane crooned, lunging at her. "Don't fight it."
Finley's own mother just stared at the floor, blaming Finley for ruining the family, watching blindly as Shane cornered her.
Terrified and desperate, Finley smashed an ashtray over Shane's head and frantically dialed her new husband's number. Shane snatched the phone, mocking the "imaginary husband" before the line went dead. Finley felt a bottomless despair. Garrison was just a normal guy; he would never risk his life against her violent family. She was completely on her own, waiting for the end.
Suddenly, deafening bangs echoed through the house, and Garrison stepped into the living room radiating a cold, terrifying fury. This supposedly "frugal data analyst" effortlessly snapped Shane's wrist, leveled a ruthless death threat that made Dozier tremble, and whisked Finley away in a waiting Bentley. Looking at the powerful man beside her, Finley's heart raced: just who exactly had she married today?

8.2
When our family empire crumbled, my sister and I were sold off as collateral to the Chicago Outfit.
My fierce sister Frankie was forced to marry Damien Moretti, the terrifying Don. I was shackled to his brother Leo, a notorious, degenerate playboy.
I thought my life was over, but the real nightmare began on our wedding night. A terrified maid handed me the wrong room key. Exhausted and numb, I crawled into a dark honeymoon suite, praying my new husband would be too drunk to find me.
Instead, the heavy door opened, and a man fueled by a drug-laced drink stepped in. He was ruthless, punishing, and entirely stripped away my dignity in the pitch black.
When the morning light finally broke, I turned my head, expecting to see Leo's boyish face. Instead, I saw a profile carved from ice.
Damien Moretti. The Don. My sister's husband.
The very man who had previously called me a "liability" and ruined my life. When he realized who I was, his eyes filled with absolute, chilling disgust. He dragged me out of the ruined sheets, threw me onto the floor of a freezing shower, and demanded to know why I had sneaked into his suite.
"You ruined me. How am I supposed to look at Frankie? You should have just killed me. Kill me now, Damien. It would be a mercy compared to this."
I sobbed, the freezing water mingling with my tears. He just stared down at me with cold, unreadable intent. I was now trapped in a house of monsters, carrying the Don's darkest secret, and I had to figure out how to survive without destroying my sister.

9.8
Erica Murphy had spent three years rotting in a freezing prison cell.
She thought she was serving time for a tragic accident, but the truth was much darker. Her husband, Colten, had framed her for his mistress's drunk hit-and-run, stolen her fortune, and left her to take the fall.
The day Erica was finally released, a speeding car intentionally slammed into her, shattering her spine. As she lay dying on the emergency room table, flatlining on the monitor, Colten and his pregnant mistress didn't come to save her. Instead, they tossed a stack of divorce papers onto her bloody hospital blanket. They wanted her to sign away her last remaining shares and take on thirty million dollars of toxic corporate debt.
"Sign it," Colten demanded coldly, looking at her crushed body with utter disgust. "Consider this the last bit of dignity I'm giving you."
The original Erica died right there, suffocating in despair and betrayal, unable to understand how the man she loved could be so monstrous.
But when the flatline on the monitor suddenly spiked and her eyes snapped open, the traumatized victim was gone.
Replaced by the cold, calculating consciousness of a future special ops commander. With microscopic nanobots rapidly fusing her shattered bones together, Erica picked up the pen, preparing to burn Colten's entire empire to ashes.

7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.











