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The Secret Princess: Her Revenge On The Alpha Novel Cover

The Secret Princess: Her Revenge On The Alpha

For the ninety-ninth time, I stood alone at the altar in a polyester dress I bought from a clearance rack, waiting for a Mating Ceremony that would never happen. Alpha Damian didn't show up. Instead, a photo popped up in the pack group chat showing him feeding strawberries to Hadley, the woman claiming to be his savior. He called my scars repulsive, never knowing that the mangled flesh on my back was the price I paid to pull his paralyzed body from a fire. I drained my White Wolf blood for five years to heal his crushed spine, losing my ability to shift, only for him to treat me like a slave in his own house. But the final straw wasn't the humiliation. It was when my adoptive father had a heart attack in the driveway. I begged Damian for help. Instead of calling a doctor, he tossed my car keys into a sewer filled with sludge and laughed, watching my father take his last breath because I "needed to learn a lesson in obedience." Staring at my father's lifeless body, the love I held for five years turned into cold ash. I looked at the Alpha who thought he was a King, and I picked up the phone to dial a number I hadn't used since I was a Princess. "Come get me, brother," I told the Lycan King on the other end. "I'm done playing the maid. We are burning this pack to the ground tonight."
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Chapter 7

Damian's shock turned into a snarl.

"You think you can walk away?" He stepped forward, claws extending. "You are mine!"

He reached for me.

'The rain seemed to stop.'

The air became dense, heavy with power.

A low hum resonated through the ground.

Damian froze. His hand hovered. 'Pupils dilated in primal terror.'

'Lycan.'

A convoy of five matte-black SUVs smashed through the gate barrier like it was matchsticks.

The lead car, bearing the golden crest of the Morrison Royal Family, screeched to a halt.

Twelve Royal Guards poured out. Giants. Assault rifles lowered, eyes glowing.

The back door opened.

'A man stepped out.'

Shoulders broad enough to carry the world. Bespoke black suit. Eyes of molten gold.

Anderson Morrison. The Lycan King.

He didn't run. He walked. 'Every step sent a pulse of dominance through the lot.'

Damian dropped to his knees. Not by choice. The sheer weight of Anderson's presence forced him down.

Anderson stopped in front of me. The terrifying aura vanished, replaced by warmth.

He looked at my dress. My burned hand. Keith on the ground.

Finally, he looked at Damian.

"You," Anderson said. 'Voice quiet, but carrying the force of a tectonic plate.' "You touched what belongs to the Crown."

Damian trembled. "Your Majesty... I didn't know... She's just a servant..."

Anderson draped his heavy coat over my shoulders. 'It smelled of storm clouds and safety.'

"I'm sorry I'm late, Princess," Anderson murmured.

"Princess?" Damian choked out.

Anderson didn't look at him.

"She is Ariana Morrison. Daughter of the late Duke. My cousin. And the rightful heir to the White Wolf bloodline."

Damian's face went gray.

"And you," Anderson pointed to the hearse. "Take Mr. Rodriguez. He will be buried in the Royal Crypts."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

"Let's go home, Lia," Anderson said, offering his arm.

I took it.

As I stepped into the SUV, I heard Anderson give an order.

"Ensure the boy with the broken hand receives the best medical care. Invite him to the capital."

"And the Alpha?"

Anderson smiled. 'A terrifying, bloodthirsty smile.'

"Leave him. The hunt is more fun when the prey knows it's doomed."

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