The Defective Omega Is The White Wolf Queen
After five years of being sneered at as the "defective" Omega, I finally held the plastic stick with two pink lines. I thought this pup would finally make my mate, Alpha David, love me.
But when I rushed to his office to surprise him, I heard him laughing with his Beta.
"Sarah is just a pet," David's voice rumbled. "I'm micro-dosing her with Wolfsbane to ensure she stays barren. Rebecca is the only Luna I need."
My world shattered. I tried to run to protect my baby, but they hunted me down. Rebecca, his cruel mistress, framed me for attacking her, and David looked at me with pure disgust.
He dragged me to an underground fight ring. Rebecca whispered in his ear, claiming my unborn child was a rogue's bastard.
David didn't even hesitate. Blinded by arrogance, he kicked me brutally in the stomach, determined to kill the "abomination."
"David, please! It's your son!" I screamed, blood soaking my thighs.
He didn't listen. He crushed our child—his own heir—under his boot.
Only after I severed our mate bond and vanished did the DNA test reveal the truth: The baby wasn't a rogue. He was a rare Alpha Prime.
David went mad with grief, but I was already gone.
Three years later, the doors to the Grand Summit opened. I walked in, not as the weak Omega he discarded, but as the legendary White Wolf Queen.
David fell to his knees, weeping and begging for a second chance.
I looked down at the broken man.
"You killed your son," I whispered, my aura crushing him into the floor. "Now, live with the ghost."
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Chapter 3
Sarah POV:
I managed to hitch a ride with a delivery truck back to the main house, claiming my car had broken down.
As I entered the hallway, the smell of roasted chicken hit me, and I barely made it to the downstairs bathroom before I emptied my stomach.
My body was rejecting the Wolfsbane. Now that I knew what it was, my psychology was warring with my physiology.
I heard the front door open.
Panic spiked. He wasn't supposed to be back.
"Daddy's here!" David's voice boomed.
I froze. He wasn't talking to me.
I crept to the bathroom door. David was in the living room, holding his phone up. Video call.
"Look at that form, Thomas! Good punch!" David was beaming.
On the screen, a young boy, maybe four years old, was hitting a punching bag. He had David's dark hair and Rebecca's sharp nose.
"Did you see, Daddy? I'm an Alpha like you!" the boy squealed.
"You are, son. You are," David cooed.
A son. He already had a son. With Rebecca.
The betrayal wasn't an event; it was a history. While I was crying over negative pregnancy tests, he was raising a family with her.
"Sarah?"
David's voice snapped me back. He had ended the call.
I flushed the toilet to create noise and walked out. "I'm here."
He walked over to me. The scent of Rebecca was all over him-roses and metallic ozone. He tried to mask it, but I smelled her on his skin.
"You look pale," he said. He reached out to touch my cheek.
It took every ounce of willpower not to flinch. "Just a stomach bug."
"I told you to rest," he said, his voice dripping with fake concern. "I was patrolling the border."
"I know," I lied. "Did you catch the intruders?"
"Chased them off," he said easily. "Listen, I have to go to the Alpha Summit this weekend."
Liar. He was going to play house with his real family.
"That's a shame," I said, forcing a weak smile. "I was hoping we could go to Moon Goddess Lake."
He paused, a flicker of annoyance crossing his eyes. "Next time, sweetie. When I get back."
"Can I have the Moonlight Sapphire?" I asked suddenly.
David stiffened. The Moonlight Sapphire was the Luna's necklace.
"Sarah," he sighed, patronizing. "It's in the vault. It's too heavy for you."
"Just for one night," I pushed. "For my birthday party tomorrow."
His eyes darted away. "I... I'll see what I can do."
He didn't have it.
He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head, and his lips brushed my cheek.
He pulled back, eyes narrowing. A low growl vibrated in his chest. He released a burst of Alpha Pheromones-a heavy, suffocating blanket designed to force compliance.
"Is something wrong, Sarah?"
"I told you," I whispered, clutching my stomach. "I'm sick. Please, David."
He stared at me, analyzing me like a bug under a microscope. Finally, he huffed. "Fine. Get some sleep."
He slammed the study door.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
It was a photo.
Rebecca, in a hotel room, wearing a silk robe. Around her neck was the Moonlight Sapphire.
The text read:
"It only fits the neck of a Queen. Don't embarrass yourself, mongrel."
I stared at the blue stone.
I deleted the message.
I couldn't run tonight. The guards were doubled, my car was bricked, and I had no cash on hand.
But tomorrow was my birthday. The whole pack would be there. Chaos is a ladder. If I caused a scene, if I disrupted the perfect image he was trying to maintain, I might create a crack in his security large enough to slip through.
I would leave, but first, I would burn their perfect little lie to the ground.
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8.4
Grace, after three years of silence from a crash that stole her voice and family, finally uttered a hoarse syllable. It was her first sound, a breakthrough she desperately wanted to share with Josiah, her childhood protector. Instead, through a slightly ajar door, she heard his careless chuckle, followed by a sharp, entitled voice.
Alexandria's voice sliced through the air: "Josiah, are you really planning to bring that little mute to the banquet? She's a walking trailer park tragedy. It's embarrassing." Grace froze, waiting for Josiah to defend her. He didn't. Instead, he sighed, calling her "a responsibility" and "a lifeless ghost," then pulled Alexandria closer.
The words were serrated blades. Her silent devotion, her self-erasure for his peace, had made her a punchline. He was relieved she was broken. The bitter realization of his betrayal ignited a cold, white-hot fury.
Wiping away tears, Grace met Josiah, feigning her usual submissive smile, and quietly refused his "hush money." As he walked away without a glance, her inner voice was clear, sharp, and resolute: "I'm done playing your game."
9.3
My mate, Theron, was a powerful Alpha, and I, a scentless Omega, was his greatest prize. But beneath his adoring facade was a terrifying, possessive monster, revealed when he dragged me home and forced me into our bed after I was late to his challenge match. His golden eyes burned with chilling control, and he whispered a threat that turned my blood to ice.
I'd been stuck on a forest road, my truck dead, racing to reach his challenge match. His mate bond panic had already frayed my nerves, but nothing prepared me for his rage. He'd publicly broken his opponent's shoulder, then stalked directly to me, ignoring the crowd. He marked my lateness with chilling precision, before dragging me away to our rooms for "punishment."
Later, as he tried to force a ceremonial marking pendant on me, he promised, "If you will not accept my mark willingly, then I will wait for your Heat. I will fuck you until your body begs for it, and my wolf will hold you down while I bite." My gaze fell on his open journal, filled with frantic, scrawled words: "SHE IS MINE. PUNISH. CLAIM. MARK HER. BREED HER. MAKE HER UNDERSTAND SHE IS MINE. MINE. MINE."
The man I loved, my only protection, was a captor in disguise, his devotion a gilded cage. Every gentle touch, every soft word, now felt like a brand of ownership, a tightening leash. The terrifying truth of his pathological obsession finally hit me.
A fragile plan formed in the space between heartbeats: I would de-escalate, redefine, and survive, no matter the cost, before his possessive madness consumed me entirely.
8.9
Audrey Fletcher was forced to marry the notorious playboy Julian Sterling to save her family's sinking company after her sister ran away.
On their wedding night, her new husband threw a $100,000 check at her face, told her they would be strangers in private, and abandoned her in the bridal suite.
She thought being trapped in a loveless, transactional marriage was the worst fate possible.
She was wrong.
To protect herself, Audrey hung a pair of men's boxer shorts on her balcony to fake a lover's presence.
Instead of deterring her husband, the ridiculous ruse brought Alistair Sterling—Julian's terrifying, powerful uncle and the true puppet master of the family.
He stormed into her apartment with a legal team to catch her cheating, and later even offered her ten million dollars to divorce his nephew.
When she refused out of fear of her own family's ruin, the situation escalated.
Forced to attend a charity gala, Audrey was tricked by staff into wearing a scandalous, backless gown and sent to a dark penthouse suite to beg her husband for peace.
But the man waiting in the shadows wasn't Julian. It was Alistair.
"Does the thought of seducing your husband's uncle give you a special kind of thrill?"
He didn't listen to her desperate explanations. Instead, he pinned her arms behind her back and crushed his mouth against hers in a brutal, punishing kiss.
Trembling with terror and revulsion, Audrey bit his lip until she tasted blood, shoved the billionaire away, and ran for her life.
She couldn't understand why this powerful man was so dangerously obsessed with destroying her sham marriage.
But as she fled into the cold city night, she realized the terrifying truth: the real game was just beginning.
7.5
I was a ghost haunting the halls of Port Sterling High, pretending to be alive. My only goal was to live like a normal teenager, even as the cancer eating me from the inside was a secret I guarded with my life.
Then the school's resident psycho, Bishop Dalton, decided I was his to protect.
He mistook my chemo-induced weakness for fragility and my nausea for nerves. He fought my battles, took detention for me, and glared at anyone who looked at me wrong, ready to tear the world apart for me. He was trying to save me from the monsters he understood, never guessing the real monster was in my own blood.
Then one day, he saw it: the horrific, black-and-purple bruise on my arm from a blown IV.
The fury in his eyes was terrifying. He was ready to kill whoever had dared to touch me. He grabbed my wrist, his voice shaking as he demanded a name. "Who did this to you?"
I couldn't tell him the truth. The pity would have been a sentence worse than death.
So I looked that beautiful, broken boy in the eye and gave him a lie far more cruel. "I did it to myself," I whispered, letting the tears fall.
I watched the fire in his soul die out, replaced by a devastating pity. I had saved my secret, but in doing so, I had just become the tragedy he would try to fix.
9.0
Elena Hart survived the crash.
Her memories didn't.
When she wakes in a pristine suburban home with a diamond on her finger and a man gripping her hand like she might disappear, she's told a simple truth:
He's her husband.
They've been married for two years.
They're deeply in love.
Caleb knows everything about her-how she takes her coffee, the scar on her thigh, the way she hums when she's anxious. The photos lining the walls prove their life together. The neighbours confirm it. Her doctor insists memory loss after trauma is common.
So why does her body recoil when he kisses her?
And why, every night, does another man visit her in dreams-bleeding, desperate, whispering:
You promised you'd run.
The dreams aren't romantic. They're frantic. Urgent. As if time is running out.
Then Elena finds something she was never meant to see.
A locked drawer in Caleb's office.
A second wedding ring.
A newspaper clipping about her accident-dated three weeks before the crash she remembers.
The more she questions, the more Caleb tightens his grip. His patience becomes surveillance. His affection becomes control. Doors begin locking. Her phone disappears. The neighbours stop meeting her eyes.
And the dreams start happening while she's awake.
A reflection in a window that isn't hers.
Footsteps behind her when no one is there.
A voice that says, He changed it. He changed everything.
What if she wasn't supposed to survive that crash?
What if the accident wasn't an accident?
As fractured memories return in violent flashes-running through rain, screaming in a dark parking lot, a different man's blood on her hands-Elena is forced to confront a horrifying possibility:
She wasn't stolen.
She was rewritten.
And the man who calls himself her husband didn't just save her life.
He erased it.
Now she must decide who the real ghost is-
The man haunting her dreams...
Or the one sleeping beside her.
Because this time, if she remembers the truth...
One of them won't let her live to tell it.
8.4
I died on a filthy bed in a back-alley clinic.
I willingly sacrificed my own corneas so the Mafia man I loved could see the light of day again.
But my soul was forced to stay behind, watching another woman claim my sacrifice as her own.
Dante reclaimed his throne as the Mafia boss. Believing the lie that I had abandoned him, he unleashed his vengeance upon my family.
"Where the hell is she hiding?"
He shattered my brother's hands and drove my mother to her death. He absolutely refused to believe the fact that I was already dead, convinced instead that I was just cowering from his wrath.
It wasn't until my medical records were thrown right in his face that Dante finally realized whose eyes he was using to look at the world.
The truth drove him completely insane.
He burned the whole world down just to beg for my forgiveness.
"Gianna, please wait for me!"