Stolen By The Alpha's Dangerous Brother
For ten years, I played the safe, "wolfless" emotional support animal for my werewolf best friend, Finn, secretly loving him while he chased his toxic ex.
When she got engaged to a rival Alpha, he dragged me across the country to crash the mating ceremony, only to abandon me at the airport.
His terrifying older brother, Alpha Knox, picked me up instead and shattered my world with one sentence: Finn had always known how I felt, and he intentionally weaponized my devotion.
To prove how little I meant to him, Knox orchestrated a cruel test at a seedy Rogue club.
While I sat right next to Finn in a sticky booth, Knox sent over a stripper.
"You don't mind, right, Sloane? It's just a gift," Finn slurred.
Without hesitating, he let the stripper straddle him right in front of me, burying his face in her neck to chase away the pain of his ex.
A decade of my blind loyalty turned to ash in that smoke-filled room.
I hated my defective, wolfless biology, but I hated him more for treating me like a stray dog begging for scraps.
Why did I waste my entire youth protecting a male who didn't even see me as a woman?
Suffocating on shame and fury, I fled to the cramped club bathroom to hide.
*Click.*
The deadbolt slid into place, and the intoxicating scent of a violent thunderstorm and spent gunpowder swallowed me whole.
Alpha Knox Crawford stood against the locked door, his merciless eyes pinning me to the sink.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 10
Sloane POV
The Den was a sensory nightmare. The moment Finn and I stepped inside, the heavy, suffocating air hit me like a physical blow. It was a dimly lit, smoke-filled underground market of primal instincts. The space reeked of cheap whiskey, stale sweat, and dozens of untamed werewolf pheromones—a chaotic cocktail of lust, desperation, and underlying violence.
We slid into a cracked, sticky red leather booth near the edge of the stage. I had agreed to come here as a final, desperate compromise to pull Finn out of his spiral, hoping to salvage whatever was left of our fractured friendship. But the moment we sat down, I realized I had made a terrible mistake.
Finn wasn't here to protect me or show me the dark side of his world. He was here to drown his Inner Wolf's agony.
His bloodshot eyes immediately locked onto a Rogue stripper writhing around a grease-stained pole. Even with my defective, *wolfless* senses, I could smell her. She radiated a thick, cloying scent of wild berries and musk. It was a scent designed to hook a vulnerable male, and Finn swallowed the bait whole.
"Finn," I said, my voice barely carrying over the heavy bass of the music. I bumped my knee against his under the table.
He didn't even blink. He blindly signaled a waitress for drinks, his gaze glued to the stage. His chest heaved as he inhaled the stripper's scent, his Inner Wolf silently begging for the raw, uncomplicated comfort of a willing female.
A sickening vine of jealousy wrapped around my heart. I hated myself for it. I was sitting in a room full of unpredictable predators, completely blind to their Mind-Links and defenseless without a wolf, and my only protector was drooling over a stranger. I let out a loud, frustrated sigh, but I might as well have been invisible.
Then, my phone buzzed against the sticky table.
I glanced down at the screen. It was a text from an unknown number.
*Hope you enjoy the distraction.*
My blood ran cold. I snapped my head up, my eyes scanning the chaotic club until they landed on the VIP section on the second floor. Behind a pane of dark, tinted glass, a massive silhouette sat in the shadows. I couldn't see his face, but the sheer, crushing weight of his Alpha presence bled through the glass. Knox. He was watching us like a king observing a pathetic circus.
Before I could process the panic rising in my throat, the wild berry and musk scent suddenly overwhelmed our booth.
The Rogue stripper had stepped off the stage and strutted directly over to us. She didn't even look at me. She leaned over Finn, pressing her bare chest against his shoulder.
"The Alpha upstairs bought you a lap dance, handsome," she purred, her eyes flashing with untamed hunger.
My stomach plummeted. I looked at Finn, expecting him to refuse, to remember that I was sitting right next to him. Instead, a reckless, desperate grin spread across his face. He looked at me, his eyes glazed over with lust and alcohol.
"You don't mind, right, Sloane? It's just a gift," Finn slurred, completely oblivious to the knife he was twisting in my chest.
"No," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I don't mind."
The stripper didn't wait for another invitation. She straddled Finn right there in the booth, grinding her hips against him. Finn's hands immediately went to her waist, his eyes closing as he buried his face in her neck, chasing the scent of another female to erase Delilah.
My world shattered. This wasn't just a dance. This was a public execution orchestrated by Knox Crawford. He was forcing me to watch the man I had loved for ten years engage in a primal, intimate act right in front of me, proving exactly how little I meant to him.
Shame and fury choked the air from my lungs. I shoved myself out of the booth. "I need to use the restroom," I choked out, though Finn didn't even hear me.
I practically ran through the crowd, dodging wandering hands and predatory stares, until I shoved open the door to the women's restroom.
It was a cramped, filthy space. The tiles were cracked, and the mirror was smeared with grime. The air smelled sharply of bleach and mildew. I gripped the edges of the cold porcelain sink, my knuckles turning white as I splashed freezing water onto my flushed face, trying to stop the tears from falling.
*Thud.*
The heavy bathroom door slammed shut behind me.
*Click.*
The unmistakable sound of the deadbolt sliding into place echoed in the small room.
I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat. The scent of bleach and mildew was instantly obliterated by a suffocating, intoxicating wave of a violent thunderstorm and spent gunpowder.
Knox Crawford stood leaning against the locked door. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his dark, merciless eyes pinned me to the sink. The predator had finally cornered his prey.
You may also like
7.3
Clara came home from a fourteen-hour board meeting to the sound of a piercing scream in the playroom.
When she rushed in, she found her husband, Chadwick, kneeling on the floor in a panic.
But he wasn't looking at their five-year-old son, Leo, who had a massive bleeding welt on his forehead.
Instead, Chadwick was trembling as he held the nanny's daughter, Autumn, who barely had a microscopic scratch.
"She needs ice. And antibacterial ointment," Chadwick snapped, carrying the nanny's daughter away and leaving his bleeding son behind.
From that moment, the nightmare only escalated.
Chadwick ordered Clara to cook a three-hour meal for the nanny's kid, threw away Leo's favorite toys because Autumn sneezed, and even secretly took the nanny and her daughter on Leo's promised Disney trip.
The final humiliation came at the Met Gala.
Right before their sponsor speech, Chadwick received a frantic call from the nanny claiming Autumn was having a panic attack.
He abandoned Clara in front of hundreds of flashing cameras, sprinting out of the ballroom.
Clara stood completely alone, the humiliation eating through her veins like acid.
She couldn't understand how a father could call the nanny's kid his "little princess" while watching his own son cry.
Why was he treating his own flesh and blood like garbage just to play savior to another woman's child?
Suddenly, the blinding camera flashes were blocked by a massive shadow.
Erasmo Chase, the heir to New York's largest financial dynasty, stepped out of the darkness and shielded her.
"A man like that is unworthy of your grief, Ms. Best," he whispered, pressing a silk handkerchief into her trembling hand.
Looking at the sharp profile of the powerful man beside her, Clara's shock hardened into a lethal, cold fury.
She was going to dump her family's shares, crash the board, and make Chadwick lose absolutely everything.
9.1
The best way to get back at a cheating bastard? Make him sick to his stomach for the rest of his life!
Days before her wedding, Corinne caught her fiancé cheating with his coworker in what she thought was their future home.
Furious, she tore everything apart, ended the engagement, and decided on a bold revenge plan.
To make him regret it for life, she set her sights on marrying his powerful uncle. Confident in her scheme, she tried to win over the cold, untouchable man, only to realize too late that she had mistaken his identity.
The man she married was far more dangerous than she imagined!
Corinne decided to make a quick escape. "Let's get a divorce. We're clearly not right for each other... "
He cornered her with a knowing smile, "Not right for each other? Funny, that's not what you said last night in bed. Want me to remind you how wrong you are?"
9.5
As the fetal monitor screamed in the delivery room, Danae begged the nurses to call her billionaire husband to save their dying baby.
Instead of Adrian, his chief lawyer arrived with a chilling directive: all emergency interventions were explicitly denied.
While security guards pinned her arms to the mattress, Danae was forced to listen to her baby's heartbeat flatline. The lawyer simply dropped divorce papers on her bed and walked out. A sympathetic doctor helped Danae fake her own death to escape the family. Stripped of her assets and kicked out into the freezing rain, she tried to drown herself with her child's ashes, only to be saved by a mysterious benefactor.
Three years later, Danae returned as a top medical researcher. But at a high-profile symposium, she crossed paths with Adrian and his new fiancée—a cheap lookalike of Danae. The woman maliciously staged a bloody miscarriage using a restricted chemical, perfectly framing Danae's lab for the crime.
Adrian pinned Danae against the wall, his eyes black with rage, vowing to make her beg for death. Three years ago, he let their real child die without even answering the phone. Now, he was ready to destroy her over a fake pregnancy.
Just as Adrian's private guards dragged her away to be locked up, the hospital doors were violently kicked open. A rival billionaire stepped in with a team of ruthless lawyers, shielding Danae behind his back and declaring war.
8.1
I lived my entire life in a beautiful, naive bubble, completely trusting my husband and my best friend.
That was until they tied me to a chair, slit my vocal cords, and set my family's estate on fire.
As the flames crept closer, my husband Demarco calmly crushed my diamond wedding ring under his leather heel.
My best friend Cristin walked in, leaning against his shoulder and pouring her champagne onto the floorboards to fuel the fire.
"Your grandfather didn't just have a stroke. The medication swap was incredibly easy to arrange."
Looking down at my bleeding body, they casually confessed to murdering the only person who had ever truly protected me, all to swallow the Bridges empire.
I couldn't even scream. I could only suffocate in the thick black smoke as they turned their backs and locked the heavy oak door behind them.
Why was I so blind? How could the two people I loved most treat me like disposable garbage?
In my final moments of agonizing pain and pure, concentrated fury, I pulled out the detonator my grandfather had secretly left me.
I pressed the button, blowing the estate and all of us to hell.
But the burning stopped.
When I opened my eyes, I was staring up at a pristine crystal chandelier.
I was fifteen years old again, lying in my childhood bedroom, right before my treacherous uncle and those parasites started tearing my family apart.
And I didn't come back empty-handed.
This time, I am not the naive heiress.
9.0
My fiancé, Jadon, proposed on the Fourth of July. It was the perfect moment I had dreamed of since we were kids. That night, he called me on FaceTime.
But the man on the screen wasn't him. It was a version of him from five years in the future, his face hollow with regret.
He laid out a horrifying timeline of betrayal. He was sleeping with my best friend and business partner, Kimberly.
She would use his venture capital to steal my architectural firm. She would sabotage my father' s life-saving kidney transplant, leaving him to die.
And she would maliciously cause a future pregnancy to end in tragedy, murdering our unborn child.
My entire world-my love, my friendship, my future-was a lie. The two people I trusted most were plotting my complete ruin.
This broken man from the future, desperate to atone, gave me a roadmap to escape. So I drove my car off a cliff and faked my own death, determined to rewrite the story they had written for me.
9.8
On the night of her seventh wedding anniversary, Annabelle waited by a cold dinner, only for her husband Julian to kick the doors open, carrying his bleeding sister-in-law, Jocelyne.
Jocelyne had committed a horrific drunk driving hit-and-run, and Julian demanded Annabelle sign a plea deal and go to prison to protect the family's stock prices.
What truly broke Annabelle wasn't Julian's ruthless betrayal, but her own twin sons.
Her own flesh and blood stood fiercely in front of Jocelyne to protect her.
"Nobody even likes you anyway, Mother. If you go to jail, everything stays normal."
Julian stripped her of every cent, locked her in a remote estate, and chased her to the edge of a cliff with his bodyguards when she refused to be their scapegoat.
Looking at the man she had loved for seven years and the children she had devoted her life to, her heart turned to ice.
Why was her endless sacrifice rewarded with being a disposable shield for a manipulative liar?
Standing on the jagged cliffs, she played the dashcam audio proving Jocelyne's guilt to a suddenly horrified Julian.
"You don't deserve the truth."
Then, she stepped backward off the cliff into the raging black ocean.
Two years later, she returned to the city as an untouchable, powerful elite, walking right past a broken, miserable Julian without a second glance.