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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 8

Damian POV:

The mud was cold. I couldn't move until the Royal convoy disappeared.

I collapsed forward, gasping. My wolf was whimpering, terrified.

'Princess.'

"Damian?"

Hadley hopped toward me with an umbrella. 'Annoyed, not concerned.'

"Who was that? Why did you kneel?"

I stared at her.

"That was the Lycan King," I rasped. "And Ariana... she left with him."

"Good riddance," Hadley scoffed. "Come inside. Let's finish that wine."

She touched my arm.

'A sharp, pungent scent hit my nose.'

Usually, Hadley smelled like vanilla and roses.

But the rain had washed away her perfume.

Now, underneath, I smelled... nothing. 'Sweat and chemical hairspray.'

No pheromones. No Mate spark.

"Your scent," I muttered. "It's gone."

"It's the rain!" Hadley snapped, nervously reapplying spray from a bottle in her pocket. "There. Better?"

'The vanilla smell returned, cloying and fake.'

I walked past her into the house.

Silent.

"Martha! James!"

No answer.

Kitchen empty.

On the counter, a stack of uniforms.

A note: 'We resign. We serve the Princess.'

I walked to Ariana's room. The closet under the stairs.

Bare. Just trash bags Cecil had left.

I kicked a bag. Trash spilled.

'Something glittered.'

A silver locket. Tarnished.

I opened it. Inside, a water-damaged photo of me in a wheelchair.

On the back: 'I will walk for you until you can run again.'

My chest tightened. 'The Mate Bond screamed.'

"Hadley," I said slowly as she followed me in. "Show me your wolf."

Hadley froze. "What?"

"Shift. Now."

"I... I can't. My ankle..."

"Shift!" I roared.

She flinched.

"I... I'm just too traumatized!" she cried, fake tears falling. "My doctor said the stress blocked my wolf!"

'A lie.' My wolf sensed it instantly.

I had made a mistake. A catastrophic mistake.

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