The Last White Wolf
Mercedes Underwood is a lost girl. Lost from her world and herself. She grew up with abusive parents and had a really shitty childhood. Sometimes she believed that they were not her parents much less rassemblements between her and them. When she turned 18 years old, her parents attempt to sell her off to some bad people to pay off their debt. That did not come as a surprise that they would do such a thing and there was no love lost there. But what came as a surprise was when she woke up naked the next morning, walls splattered with blood and four people ripped to shreds. Life went from bad to bloody worse for Mercedes. It was like waking up in a horror scene. She was petrified and confused, nothing made sense but what did make sense was for her to pick up what she can and run.
*****
Felix Ransom is the Alpha of the White Claw pack. He leads his pack with an iron fist and ensures everyone's safety and makes sure the pack thrives. But something is missing. The gentle touch of a Luna. Felix is already 25 years old and has not found the one the Moon Goddess chose for him. His other half and mate. Each day without the one for him made his hope of ever finding her wither away. At a point, he even thought that she might have died. It never occurred to him that his made would come right to him much less be a human who is a fugitive for murdering 4 people. Or was she a human being after all?
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Chapter 1
For days, Mercedes was on foot trying to put distance between her and her old town. Every minute and every second counted. She wondered if anyone found out about what happened a few nights ago. If anyone came upon the horrendous scene, that would scar the town for good. She knew that they would look for her for questioning, but she did not want to be found. Confusion still swarmed her mind and she did not even know what the hell happened that night. Just that she was fighting for her life as two men were dragging her out of the house. Nothing after that.
It was cold, and she was trying her best to keep warm. Her feet were already numb from walking without resting for a long time, but she could afford to take a rest. Not now. Time was of the essence. The problem was that she had nowhere to go and no one in her life. All her life she just had those awful people who supposedly gave her life. They hated her, and they made her feel their hatred every day of her life with them. The scars on her body were evidence of that.
Come to think of it, it was their fault that she was in this predicament today. Had it not been for them and their uncontrollable gambling problem, there wouldn't be a need for them to sell her to pay off their debt. Deep down she was relieved that one nightmare had ended. Their reign of terror over her was over. Even though the scene she woke up in still haunts her and keeps her awake.
Never in her life did she think she would be surrounded by death or gaze into lifeless eyes. She shuddered from that more than the cold night. She could not help but keep looking behind to see if anyone was following her. Because of the cold, she was able to cover herself up more than enough without looking suspicious to the onlookers. Only her wild green eyes were left visible.
She hoped that she would find someplace where no one knows her and she could settle down and forget the horrifying crappy past and erase it. If she was not yet wanted by the police.
One thing bothered her. Who would be so heartless to kill those four people? And why did they leave her? Why didn't they kill her like the others? If that person was found, it would be her only salvation from being the suspect of murder. With fingers crossed, she hopes they nab the person before her life spirals out of control.
After walking for almost the whole day, she spotted a roadside. It was in a deserted area and not many people were around. The perfect place for her to rest and get something in her into her stomach. Looking cautiously around, she crossed the street and entered the dinner. The bells chimed at the door, indicating her arrival. A few people in the room looked at her, and she made sure not to look anyone in the eyes.
She walked over to the empty booth in the far corner of the small diner. It was warm inside, and she started getting hot underneath all those clothes covering her up. But she was not going to risk it by removing them and exposing herself to these people. She had not heard the news so she was not sure about the status quo.
Soon enough, a waiter stood in front of her ready to take her order. She knew she could not afford to take a look at the menu because she probably couldn't afford anything there.
" Good evening mam. "What can I get you," the waiter asked with a bored expression and chewing gum loudly. It was a rude thing, but she was used to it. Mercedes never knew anyone who genuinely respected her or showed her some respect. All the people she knew looked down on her, or maybe she was simply undeserving of anything. Not good parents, a good home, a good upbringing, or a good life. She was a magnet for trouble.
" Uh...I'll have the cheapest thing on your menu, please." The waiter gave her a look before walking away. It was a judgmental look, but she couldn't care less. As soon as she eats and gets a move on, the better it will be for her. The waiter was back with a sandwich and dropped it on the table and left without a word. Mercedes stared at the table where the sandwich was dropped. There was no plate, it was just the bread with cheese, lettuce, and a slice of tomato.
She removed the gloves on her fingers and wiggled them a bit to bring back the feeling. She clenched them so much that they were cramping and sore. After the mini-finger exercise, she picked up the bread and turned herself slightly so she could pull down the scarf on her face. She eagerly munched down on the sandwich until it was all gone. That would be enough to keep her up until she gets somewhere.
Mercedes put down a dollar on the table and stood up to leave. She stepped out of the diner and saw motorcycles packed with bikers. They looked like they were about to come in. Some of them looked at her with intrigue, sending a quiver down her spine and she realized that she had not covered her mouth. She pulled the scarf in her mouth and tried hard not to tremble in their unwavering gaze. One of the guys specifically caught her eye because of his nasty scar that looked like an animal slashed him. Slowly she moved out of the way and walked without looking back.
She was shrouded in cold yet again. Mercedes trembled as she tried to reign in her emotions. All those overwhelming feelings were building up pressure on her, and she wanted to be released, but as I said, there was no time for her to shatter and feel weak. She had to keep going, and she had to start strong. She needed the strength to run from what is now her past.
But worry clouded her. Where was she going, and would she be received well? Would her past catch up to her faster than a bat out of hell? Or would she just end up on the streets with no place to call home? Tears started welling up, but she bit her button lip so hard so that she would not cry out. It was already getting darker, but she was thankful for the streetlights.
But her luck was starting to run out. She hadn't noticed a man following behind her at a fair distance. Like it was a sixth sense, Mercedes heard the heavy footsteps of the man from the distance he was, and she peeked behind her to see if he was following her. She could not miss the noticeable scar that caught her attention earlier. She turned back quickly and started picking up the pace. He did the same and his intentions were clear to her.
With no other choice, she began to run. She crossed the street and headed for the dense forest. Mercedes was surprised as to why she would run from one danger to another imminent danger. She was running from a strange scarred biker man into a forest with wild animals. How would that help? But she kept running, glancing behind her to see the man not far behind her. The many days of walking without rest were catching up with her. She was already out of breath but fear pushed her to keep running. She leaped and ducked tree branches, but it was hard because it was dark.
Suddenly, the moon illuminated the forest, giving her some vision of a way ahead. The man was not far behind. But her speed and agility were remarkable. She never ran this much in her life, but she was good. Then the strangest thing happened. She heard the breaking of bones and growls behind her. Mercedes thought it was a wild animal, but what she saw left her speechless. The man chasing her was transforming into a beast. She knew because she still had her clothes on which were getting ripped apart. Her eyes widened and she tripped over a root. She was bewildered and her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
She was on the ground and the man was fully transformed into a werewolf but bigger than a normal werewolf. It was an ash-colored wolf with red eyes and a big ass snout. It was a fucking Twilight scene, and he was growling and baring his sharp canine teeth. He sure was not Jacob, and he was ready to attack her. All hope was lost for her. She was exhausted and her limbs were sore. No one would help her because it was just both of them.
Her breaths were hastened, and her eyes were focused on the predator in front of her. Mercedes thought that karma was too quick to catch up to her. She just closed her eyes and accepted fate as it was. Maybe God was trying to put her out of her misery. She thought she was going to die the same horrid death as the others did. But she heard more than one growl around her and wolves, much bigger than the first one, emerged from the shadows. 3 large wolves almost the size of an SUV. They were more than just big, they were majestic. Their eyes were yellow and bright.
Mercedes did not know whether to be terrified or fascinated by them because right now they were having a face-off with scarface. She stayed on the ground and did not move an inch to bring attention to herself. But somehow her fear just went away. She was still shocked because it was obviously too much to take in all at once but she felt rather safe. Her heart rate decreased to normal and she took deep breaths to feel the cold air of the night in her lungs and feel alive. She slowly got up and dusted herself off but never for a single moment took her eyes off the 4 werewolves.
To her surprise, scarface slowly retreated without turning his back and slowly went into the shadow of the trees. Mercedes was now confused. She kind of expected a ground-shaking battle or something but nothing happened. How did that happen because no one said a word? Or maybe scarface just understood that he was outnumbered.
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9.7
Some chains are forged in iron.
Others in desire.
Sebastian Kol has existed for six centuries. Cursed to burn alive in his own skin every night he transforms into a beast even he cannot control. He wants one thing. Freedom. And after five centuries of searching, a prophecy finally gives it a name.
Leilani Ravenwood.
She carries the mark of the moon goddess on her skin and a prophecy that brands her as his salvation. Her blood silences his beast, and her touch sets him on fire.
In the worst possible way. And in the best possible way.
Furious at the hold she has over him, Sebastian takes her, strips her of everything, and bends her world until it breaks, determined to own what the goddess dared to use against him. What follows is dark and consuming. A monster who has never met his match, and a woman who proves to be it.
But Leilani Ravenwood does not break easily. And somewhere between the hatred and the hunger, the punishment and the pull, the ancient beast begins to suspect the terrible truth.
The woman born to be his salvation may already be his undoing, his poison and cure wearing the same skin.
And he is running out of reasons to care.
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.
9.2
I went to The Ivy to return a box of scripts and hoodies, hoping to finally bury my past with movie star Harrison Knox. I just wanted to be a good wife to Julian Sterling and keep my family’s business merger intact.
But Harrison had other plans. He staged a paparazzi ambush, pulling me into a fake embrace just as the cameras flashed. By the time I got home to our Bel Air estate, the headline "Harrison Knox Heartbroken? Tearful Reunion with Serena Vance" was already trending worldwide.
The fallout was brutal. My father called, roaring that the stock was in freefall and threatening to stop my mother’s medical payments if I didn't keep Julian happy. My movie funding was pulled, leaving me to pawn my Birkin bags just to pay my staff. Even worse, Julian’s cold indifference turned into a sharp, quiet rage. He heard me tell a friend that our marriage felt like a transaction, and his response was to toss a black Centurion card at my feet like I was something he’d bought at an auction.
I was trapped between a narcissist who wanted to use my trauma for his next script and a father who saw me as nothing but a bargaining chip. Even Julian, the man who secretly bought my movie rights through a shell company to protect me, believed I was still screaming my ex's name in my sleep.
When my family finally demanded I lie and accuse Julian of domestic abuse to secure a settlement, I realized I had nothing left to lose. I walked away from the Vance name, deleted every memory of Harrison, and stood at the edge of the Pacific Ocean ready to let the tide take me.
But Julian didn't come for a divorce. He found me in the dark, his coat heavy on my shoulders and his eyes burning with a possessive fire.
"There is no divorce in the Sterling family," he whispered against my ear.
"There is only widowhood. You are mine, Serena, until one of us is in the ground."
8.2
I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father.
I was twenty years old.
He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him—my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit—watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant.
He chose her. He always chose her.
And then, I woke up.
Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for.
This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London—an exile disguised as a severance package—I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice.
He didn't know he was talking to a ghost.
He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal.
He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder.
That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry.
She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts.
So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie.
I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane.
But I will not be a victim.
This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter.
This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.
7.0
My debt-ridden uncle sold me to the Romero mafia family to save his own skin.
I was forced to marry Emiliano Romero, a man known to the underworld as "The Ghost"—a rumored monster who supposedly tore his last two caretakers apart.
My aunt and cousin delighted in my misery. My cousin came at me with a razor, leaving a nasty bruise on my face, while my aunt bleached my hair to make me look like a cheap, disposable doll.
When the Romeros arrived, they didn't even pretend to want a daughter-in-law.
"The Family needs a nobody whose death won't start a police report."
They just wanted a clueless victim to sign a pre-nup and die quietly. They shoved me down a sterile hallway and locked me inside a fortified, padded cell with a man wrapped in heavy chains.
They all thought they were sacrificing a helpless, terrified lamb to a madman. They laughed at my tears, completely convinced I was just gutter trash waiting to be slaughtered.
But they had no idea I was a highly trained undercover operative.
Listening to their arrogant whispers, the pieces finally clicked. Emiliano wasn't a deranged killer—he was a prisoner being drugged and framed by his own blood.
I drained my uncle's bank account to buy a neurotoxin antidote, dropped my pathetic, trembling disguise, and stepped calmly into the monster's cage.
I wasn't here to be their victim. I was here to save him.
9.1
In her first life, Elara Silas was a biological insurance policy a spare part for her sickly brother and a shadow to her saintly twin sister, Elena. Her existence ended on a cold operating table, her heart harvested while her husband, John Grant, watched with chilling indifference. But death was only a detour.
Waking up three years in the past, Elara is no longer the obedient dog begging for scraps of affection. Armed with the memories of her family's ultimate betrayal, she prepares to dismantle the Silas empire from the inside out. Her first move? Rejecting her father's control to sign a secret contract with his greatest rival: the enigmatic and breathtakingly handsome Orion.
Expectations shatter when she meets him. Orion isn't just a powerful jeweler; he is a man haunted by the same ghost. In a world-altering revelation, he confesses the truth: he wasn't a bystander in the first life-he was the man behind the glass, murdered by Elara's father while trying to save her.
Now, two souls who died in the same tragedy are united by a lethal alliance. As Elara returns to the Silas mansion to play the role of the repentant daughter, she finds herself trapped in the same deadly games-including Elena's blood-soaked frame-ups and her mother's toxic healing schemes. But this time, Elara isn't alone. With Orion's shadow looming over the Silas household and a black opal ring hiding a shared secret, the hunt has begun.