The Alpha's Lost Luna: Too Late for Redemption
For nine years, I was the "Wolfless Wonder," the shame of the Reyes Pack. I swallowed bitter suppressants every morning to hide my identity as a rare White Wolf, enduring my husband’s coldness just to stay by his side.
But tonight, Alpha Dominick shattered whatever bond we had left. He walked into the Annual Gathering with his mistress, Chastity, clinging to his arm, pregnant and smug.
When Chastity staged a miscarriage and blamed me, Dominick didn't ask for the truth. He dragged me to the hospital.
"She needs blood," he snarled. "O-Negative. Like yours."
He used the Alpha Command to force me onto the table. He watched as they drained me dry to save the woman destroying my life.
"Alpha, her heart rate is dropping!" the doctor warned. "It will kill her!"
Dominick didn't even flinch.
"Keep going," he ordered. "Take what you need until Chastity is safe."
As the machine beeped and darkness took me, the submissive wife died.
I woke up in the morgue holding cell and made a choice. I signed the divorce papers, set the penthouse on fire, and vanished into the night. He thought I burned to death.
He didn't know I escaped.
Months later, he tracked a ghost to a vineyard in London. But he didn't find the broken girl he sacrificed.
He found the White Wolf, glowing with silver magic, standing beside a new mate who actually cherished me.
Dominick fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Annis, come home. I command you."
I looked down at him and smiled.
"Your voice doesn't work on me anymore, Alpha. You killed the part of me that listened."
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Chapter 3
Annis POV:
I woke up to the smell of bleach and dust.
I was alive. Unfortunately.
I was in a recovery room-no, a storage closet converted into a holding cell.
I tried to sit up, but my head swam. My arm was bruised black and blue.
Haven? I projected the thought, praying the Mind-Link still worked.
Annis! His voice exploded in my head. I'm at the border. I'm coming to burn that place to the ground.
No, I replied weakly. Not yet. I need my papers. If I run now, he hunts me as a fugitive. I need to leave legally.
The door opened. Dominick walked in. Fresh suit. Clean hair. He didn't look like a man who had almost murdered his wife.
"You're awake," he said flatly.
"Did she live?"
"Yes. She is glowing. The doctor said your blood worked miracles. Faster than anything he's seen."
He frowned, puzzling over it. He didn't know White Wolf blood was practically ambrosia.
"Where is my rejection letter?"
He threw a manila envelope onto the bed. "Signed. You are no longer Reyes. You have one hour to vacate."
I opened it. My hands shook, but I signed. Snap.
The pack link-the mental web connecting me to him-vanished. The silence was deafening. And beautiful.
"Good," I said.
I grabbed my bag.
I walked out of the hospital. The sunlight was blinding.
In the parking lot, paparazzi swarmed. Dominick was walking Chastity to the limo.
Chastity saw me. She smiled, linking her arm through Dominick's.
"Look, Dom," she said, pitching her voice for the cameras. "It's the ex. She looks terrible."
Dominick glanced at me. I was a ghost in sweatpants. Chastity was radiant, flushed with my blood.
He pulled out his phone. A second later, my phone pinged. A notification from the Pack's social media.
A photo of them. Caption: The Future is Secure. Alpha & Heir. NewLuna
Bile rose in my throat.
Five years ago, I lost my baby in a rogue attack. Dominick hadn't held my hand. He had stood over my hospital bed and asked, "Why were you so weak?"
Now, he paraded this.
"Annis!" Chastity called out. "Do you need a ride to the bus station? We have room."
She opened the back door. The scent hit me-artificial roses and vanilla, masking the rot underneath.
"Get in," Dominick said, checking his watch. "I don't want you loitering on my territory."
"I'd rather crawl."
"Get in the car."
The Command again.
My legs moved against my will. I climbed in, sitting opposite them.
"It must be hard," Chastity cooed, resting her head on Dominick's shoulder. "Knowing you were never really his mate. The Goddess makes mistakes."
"The Goddess makes no mistakes," I said quietly. "Only men do."
Dominick's jaw tightened. "One more word, Annis, and you walk."
I looked out the window. We were heading toward the Pack House. I needed my passport from the penthouse. Then, I would never see these monsters again.
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8.5
After four years of marriage, my wealthy husband Brad handed me a $50,000 severance check outside the Manhattan Family Court.
He linked arms with his mistress, Jenna, who flaunted the diamond ring that used to be mine.
"Just take it, Hayley. Take the money and get out of our lives," he sneered, looking at me with absolute disgust.
I tore the check into pieces, but my nightmare was just beginning.
To access my grandfather's trust fund, I had exactly seventy-two hours to get legally married, so I desperately proposed a one-year contract marriage to a poor insurance salesman I met in a dive bar.
When Brad found out, he and his arrogant family cornered me at their estate.
Brad mocked my new husband for being a penniless, money-grubbing parasite, while my former mother-in-law slapped me hard across the face, knocking me to the ground.
"You are trash, just like your mother," she spat, watching my knee bleed onto the sharp gravel.
Jenna gleefully kicked my phone away, shattering the screen and cutting off my only lifeline.
Lying there in the dirt, I stared at the broken glass in absolute despair.
I didn't understand why four years of quiet devotion had earned me nothing but cruel betrayal and endless humiliation from the people I once called family.
Just as I thought I had completely lost, a black Lincoln Navigator slammed to a halt at the gates.
My "penniless" new husband stepped out, radiating a terrifying, righteous fury that made the entire Patton family freeze in horror.
7.0
Five years. Four hundred million dollars. And the wedding dress was never mine.
I found out on a Tuesday—a C-list actress draped in my custom Vera Wang, hanging off my fiancé's arm. Six months of French lace. Six meters of Italian silk. Every stitch a promise I had made to myself: someone finally chose me for me.
He locked the doors of that boutique. Froze my cards. Threatened my friends. Told the world I was just a delusional former assistant who didn't know her place.
The internet called me crazy, a liar, a desperate woman who couldn't take a hint. His name trended everywhere. My accounts got suspended before I could say a word.
What he never knew: his empire ran on my capital. His patents were mine. His executive assistant had been feeding me evidence for months—emails, recordings, a paper trail of fraud stretching back years.
I dialed the encrypted phone. A voice said, "I've waited five years."
"Then wait three more days," I said. "I'm going to tear his head off."
9.3
My husband Hudson had kept me a medicated ghost for three years, convinced I was unstable. But a cheap pink hair clip, tangled with golden blonde hair in his car, ripped through the chemical haze. The bitter pill he forced me to take wouldn't numb the burning truth, only fuel my awakening.
I was an architect once, but now I was just Cora, a docile wife trapped in his suffocating world. When he saw my shock, his concern was sickeningly sweet as he offered another Xanax. I pretended to swallow the poison, letting it dissolve under my tongue, a constant reminder of my awakening.
Back at the mansion, his massive car deliberately blocked mine, a crude barricade confirming his control. Then, a message from an old intern confirmed my darkest fears: this was domestic abuse. He urged me to check Hudson’s closet, to record everything.
I knew then I was living with a dangerous monster, and my denial shattered. The anger burned, fueled by the bitter taste of that undissolved pill.
That night, Hudson walked in, wearing a hideous, sloppily tied red polka-dot tie. It was a clear, undeniable sign of another woman. My architect’s mind was awake, cold and calculating. "Game on, Hudson." I would make him taste this bitterness back a thousand times.
7.9
On my eighteenth birthday, the celestial pact hiding my aura finally expired. I stood on the rotting steps of the trailer, watching my foster family celebrate my eviction like they’d won the lottery. Brenda threw a liability waiver at me to sign, ensuring I’d never ask for a dime of their welfare checks again. Worse, her daughter Regina stood there smirking, flaunting the heirloom emerald bracelet she’d stolen from my secret stash—unaware it was a spiritual artifact soaked in fifty years of blood magic. "Consider it payment for room and board, freak," Regina sneered, forcing the silver band over her wrist. They thought they were discarding a burden. They didn't realize I was the only dam holding back a tidal wave of their own bad karma. As I signed the papers, voluntarily severing our ties, the air pressure plummeted. The bracelet began to constrict like a snake, turning Regina’s flesh a necrotic purple as the protection I offered vanished. Before they could scream, a matte black helicopter bearing the Sterling Industries crest descended onto the muddy lawn, blowing their plastic lawn chairs into the neighbor's yard. A man in a bespoke charcoal suit stepped out, ignoring the filth to bow before me. He looked at my terrified foster family and announced, "We are here to retrieve the Sterling heiress." I smiled at Regina, whose arm was already beginning to rot, and whispered, "Keep the bracelet. You'll need it to pay for the amputation."
9.5
The night I ran, I left everything behind.
My dead fiancé's ghost. His brother's cold hands reaching for me. A father who won't meet my eyes because he's already sold me to the highest bidder.
I thought I was escaping.
Then a stranger pulled me from the darkness, and I learned what real danger looks like.
Damon moves like he owns the world. Talks like every word matters. Looks at me like I'm the only woman who ever made him feel something. He says he's the son the Kings family erased, the bastard they tried to bury. He says Evan loved me-really loved me-and that's why I should trust him.
He wants me to sign a contract. One year as his wife. One year to help him destroy the family that destroyed us both. One year pretending to belong to a man who makes my heart race and my skin burn every time he's close.
But the closer we get, the more I feel him keeping secrets.
He touches me like I'm fragile. Looks away when I ask about Evan. Holds the truth behind his teeth like it might cut us both.
And the whole time, I'm falling.
Falling into his warmth. His danger. His impossible kindness that feels too real to be fake.
But if I've learned anything from the Kings, it's this: the men who save you are always the ones who need you most.
And the ones who need you?
They're the ones who hurt you in the end.
Evan knew something the night he died. Something about my father. Something about the deal that would make the Kings the most powerful people in the country.
Damon knows too.
And the only way he'll tell me?
Is if I say yes.
Say yes to the contract. Say yes to the marriage. Say yes to the fire building between us that feels less like pretending every single day.
But when I finally learn the truth-about Evan, about my father, about the empire that wants us both dead-
Will the man holding me survive what comes next?
And more terrifying:
Will I survive loving him?
7.2
"I need a wife for one year. No feelings, no drama, just a signature on a contract. In return, I will pay you fifty million Naira."
Amaka Okoro is a survivor from the streets of Mushin, but even she is running out of time. Her mother is dying, and the hospital bills are a mountain she can't climb. When the cold and powerful Alexander Sterling-the most feared billionaire in Lagos-offers her a fake marriage, it feels like a miracle.
But the glittering world of Victoria Island is more dangerous than the slums. Behind the diamond rings and luxury galas lies a dark secret Alexander has been hiding for three years-a secret that involved the death of his first bride.
As the lines between the contract and reality begin to blur, Amaka must decide: is she just a replacement for a dead woman, or is she the only one who can save Alexander from his own shadows?
In the city of Lagos, love is a luxury. Can Amaka afford the price?