
The wolf within her
Born into a werewolf family but believing she was ordinary-until her father is framed and exiled for a crime he didn't commit and she is forced to step into the limelight as an alpha for her pack. What ivy doesn't know is that her entire life has been built on lies , from an ancient prophesy tied to her birth to the closest people hiding truths sharp enough to shatter her . Would she be able to fulfil destiny or fall prey to the forces determined to break her?
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Chapter 1
Born beneath a veiled star, the masked one will wake the dormant storm.
Three carved from truth and terror;
One forgotten, one forsaken, one foreshadowed.
When the bloodline awakes, kings will fall,
And the lost shall rise,
To deliver or doom.
IVY
"Don't you ever say that again.", something shattered downstairs.
I jolted awake, heart slamming against my ribs. For a split second, I thought I'd dreamed it.
My parents didn't argue.
Ever.
I lay still, listening. The house held its breath.
Then my mother spoke again, her voice lower this time. "She's not ready."
"She has to be," my father snapped.
I didn't understand the words, but they sank into me anyway, heavy and cold. I swung my legs out of bed before I could talk myself out of it.
The hallway was dim, the early morning light barely slipping through the windows. I had just reached the top of the stairs when a sound ripped through the house.
"Ivy."
My mother was there instantly, faster than I'd ever seen her move. Her hands settled around my shoulders, warm and comforting, turning me back toward my room before I could even look down the stairs.
"What's the matter?" I asked. They looked tense.
"Everything's fine," she said, smiling too broadly. "Go back upstairs."
Behind her, my father stood at the foot of the stairs, his broad shoulders blocking my entire view of the living room. He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"What was that?" I asked.
"Nothing, my dear," he said. His voice was calm, but his jaw was set the way it only ever was when something drastic was happening.
My mother smoothed a hand over my hair. "We're leaving earlier than planned," she said gently.
They didn't say where they were going. They never did. They didn't have to.
Today was the first red moon in the last six months, and wolves never took superstitions lightly. Mum and Dad would be out leading the others through the Ceremony of Lights, and as their tradition demanded they were to be away the entire weekend. Everyone was.
Well, except me.
I tried not to let the emptiness seep in again. I should be used to it by now, but it never gets better.
I nodded my head stiffly, and my mum gave me a sad smile.
"Stay safe, Ivy. Have fun on your trip, we'll call you," Dad said.
I watched them leave through the front door and go out into the street.
Turning my back to the door, I knew that once I checked again, they would have vanished.
I took my time going up the stairs to my room. The moonlight shone with an intensity I'd never experienced before, giving the mundane objects here an odd tint. The room stood still as if it could tell I was observing it slowly and it was all I could do not to run downstairs, though I knew it was in vain.
They were already gone.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Talia.
"Ivy, you up?" I heard her ask.
"Unfortunately."
She chuckled slightly; she was used to me now. Several years of friendship and I never understood why she stuck with me. Born into wealth and power, Talia's lineage ruled in every single US state. Her father and mother were heads of state in Washington DC, her cousins owned massive companies in California, and her grandfather was the alpha of the Chicago wolf pack. Even in person, Talia had an air of dignity. She was never bothered about anything-everything was under her feet.
The bus leaves at 6. You'd better be there, I'm not sitting next to Townsend. He's been drinking since earlier today," she complained.
It's not like anyone else was going to sit next to me. I was quiet, and besides Talia and a few of my mother's friends, no one really spoke to me. My father loved me, and my mother pampered me, but I was always overlooked by everyone else in my father's pack. They respected me because of his position and would never dare to even breathe the wrong way next to me. But I felt the prejudice in the words that weren't spoken, in the pitied looks they sent my way. I grew up that way, in a bubble of self-consciousness and shyness. No one ever really knew me, some days I wasn't sure if even I did.
"Yeah yeah, I'll get ready now. I wouldn't want you to inhale vodka the entire ride to Los Angeles," I told her. "I would actually kill you if that happened. I'll send you a text when I'm at your house to pick you up." she said.
Such an angel.
"Thanks, Talia. Love you" I said. "You would be crazy not to," she responded.
I rolled my eyes.
I stood up from my bed and walked to the bathroom. Reaching for the light switch - I froze.
I could see. Perfectly.
I was probably just overthinking it. Talia would be here in a few hours and I didn't want to die for letting her sit next to Townsend.
My bathroom looked like any random one. Flowery tiles decorated the walls and pink towels and toiletries lined the edge of the bathtub. A large sink held my brush and skincare products, and a floor to ceiling mirror was stationed on the far right. Cracks ran down the corners of the wall, and pots of aloe vera hung on my windowsill to ward off 'evil spirits.
Did I mention that wolves were superstitious?
The only thing that was out of the ordinary was a golden charm that hung at the center of my door. Many like this one were placed in specific spots around my house. At the entrance of the house, on the dining table, in my parents' room, my mother even wore one on her finger whenever she was around me.
She placed this one on my bathroom door when I was about three years old. I remember my mother crashing out when I had climbed a stool to check it out, removing it in the process. To this day, I've never understood what that was all about, it wasn't that anything particularly bad had happened. In fact, right at that moment, I remember feeling significantly stronger, it felt like my world had turned right side up after being at an angle all this while. But my mum looked so frightened that I never asked about it.
I showered quickly, already dreading agreeing to go on this tour to Los Angeles with Talia, but I knew the main reason I did was so that I wouldn't be alone again while my parents were out.. I wanted to feel like I had a life too, that I didn't feel left out from the culture of my family.
Like I wasn't an oddity.
I emerged from the bathroom and started tossing random clothes into my backpack. I packed for two days although I had a strange premonition I wouldn't stay that long.
Ignoring the strange tingling sensation that ran down my spine, I put on the pair of jeans my mom got me last summer and paired them with one of my father's flannel shirts; I wasn't getting glammed for a trip where half the students would be asleep or doing the immoral.. It was a student organised trip so no adult would be there to supervise.
Humans have too much faith in their offspring.
Well, technically I am human. Just one living amongst monsters.
Placing my fully packed luggage on the ground, I looked around my room to see if there was anything I'd forgotten.
Talia didn't like sharing.
There was a vibration in the atmosphere that made it hard to focus on any one thing, the world felt stretched, like the night was holding its breath. I patted down my shirt and was about to blow off checking the mirror when I felt compelled to look at my reflection. But there was nothing out of the ordinary, just my oversized shirt and terrible bed hair.
"This mirror is so dirty," I said moving to wipe the smudges off with my shirt. I was doing so when I realized something was amiss.
My reflection didn't move.
"What the fuck?"
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8.1
Rhea Hale, a young art restorer at the old Elaria gallery, lives a life of near-perfect calm-canvases, colors, and classical symphonies that fill her every day. But when she touches a mysterious painting titled The Moon Painting, something inside her begins to shift. Strange visions, eyes watching from the fog, and wild emotions she can't explain slowly start to unravel her peaceful world.
Across the city, Kaelan Viero-the national hockey team's captain-carries the charm and composure of a champion. But beneath the arena lights and public spotlight, there's a side of him he never shows... until his eyes lock with a stranger's in the stands.
That brief moment sparks something long buried.
And from then on, neither of their lives remains the same.
"One glance started it all. And after that... there was no turning back."

7.2
I am a resident surgeon, secretly married to Dr. Barrett Walters, the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery. It was a transactional marriage; he paid my mother's mounting medical bills, and I was his secret, obedient wife in the dark.
But at the hospital, he was a cold-blooded tyrant who deliberately made my life a living hell. During a major medical conference, he viciously tore apart my successful surgical repair, looking me dead in the eye as he called me incompetent in front of all my colleagues.
The humiliation didn't stop there. With his tacit approval, the senior residents bullied me, assigning me every brutal night shift. When his beautiful, wealthy heiress "girlfriend" visited the ward, he publicly mocked my background to make her smile.
"Some people get in through the back door. They're not fit for the front lines."
Even when I was forced to work as a secret banquet waitress to cover the medical copays he ignored, he found me, ruined the job out of pure possessive jealousy, and then fined my meager resident salary the very next morning just to show his absolute control.
I endured his punishing kisses and cruel rebukes, sacrificing my dignity just to keep my mother alive. But I couldn't understand why he had to destroy every shred of my peace. If he wanted the perfect heiress, why did he refuse to let me go?
Staring at his cold, controlling eyes in the stairwell, my exhaustion finally overpowered my fear. I was done being his victim, and it was time to tear up this contract.

8.3
I was the "crazy girl" my family sent to a survivalist commune in Utah to rot. Four years later, I returned to Manhattan with a titanium USB drive and a heart full of ice, ready to blackmail the one man who could burn my family to the ground.
But I underestimated how much they hated me. My fiancé, Preston, was already laundering money through my inheritance and sleeping with my replacement. He didn't even flinch when I showed him the evidence of his crimes.
Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, smashed my phone, and shoved me out of his moving Lincoln into a midnight storm. I hit the wet pavement hard, my knees scraping against the asphalt as I watched him drive away, laughing about how I was a "dirt-poor exile" that nobody wanted.
Within minutes, my credit cards were flagged as stolen and my father’s lawyers were drafting a statement calling me mentally unstable. I was left shivering in a puddle of oily sludge, wearing a ruined Chanel suit, with no money, no home, and no one to hear me scream.
I couldn't understand how they could be so cruel. I was their flesh and blood, yet they treated me like a broken toy to be discarded in the trash. I was a "distressed asset" in a city that only valued gold.
That’s when a black armored SUV pulled to the curb. King Wagner—the ruthless shark of Wall Street and Preston’s own uncle—looked at my muddy face with cold, calculating eyes. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a leash.
"You belong to me now," he whispered, pulling me into the dry warmth of his car. By the next morning, he had announced our engagement to the world, turning me into the very weapon that would slit my family's throat.

8.8
Serena, six months pregnant, continued to save lives on the battlefield, despite her severe illness.
Her husband, Logan, who had once chosen her over his family, gave her life-saving medicine and prenatal care items to his lover, Amy.
When the artillery struck, he let go of Serena's hand without hesitation to protect another woman, leaving Serena to collapse on the battlefield.
Later, Serena earned the respect of everyone in the midst of conflict with her medical skills.
Her ex-husband, eyes filled with remorse, knelt before her, saying, "I married her out of gratitude, I won't divorce..."
Before Serena could respond, a gun was already aimed at Logan's forehead by the undisputed leader of the safe area. "Sign the divorce papers. She's with me now."

8.7
I stood as a ghost, watching the rhythmic thud of dirt hitting my own casket. My father, Senator Ellwood, dabbed his eyes for the cameras while my stepmother, Carroll, played the grieving mother perfectly, even though they were the ones who had paved the way for my murder.
The vision shifted to a high-rise office where Isadore Walker, the terrifying "Shadow Regent," was methodically bankrupting every elite family that had betrayed me. He pressed a silver koi fish necklace to his lips and triggered a massive explosion, choosing to burn the entire world down just to join me in death.
"Little Fish," he whispered.
In my first life, I was a naive pawn who believed my best friend, Catarina, when she claimed I simply slipped into the pool at my Debutante Ball. I let the opportunistic Cody Stevens play the hero who "saved" me, leading to a hollow engagement that ended in my ruin. I never knew that my stepmother had conspired with our housekeeper to hide my true identity and keep me from my biological family.
I died without ever understanding why Isadore, a man who treated me with cold indifference, would sacrifice everything for my sake. I didn't know that my entire life was a web of kidnappings and bribes designed to keep me as a political pawn.
Suddenly, the heat of the explosion warped into the agonizing burn of icy water. I broke the surface, gasping for air, back at the very party where my downfall began three years ago.
As I climbed out, I didn't look for Cody’s help. I wrapped myself in Isadore’s sandalwood-scented jacket and felt the cold steel of the tactical knife he had left in the pocket. This time, I wasn't the victim; I was the one who would light the fuse.

7.7
Waking up in silk sheets should have felt like a dream, but the smell of expensive whiskey and masculine musk triggered a warning siren in my skull. I was in Dorian McClain’s bed—the man who could crush my entire existence with a single signature.
I fled his hotel suite like a ghost, but in my hungover panic, I snatched the wrong phone. By the time I reached my crumbling apartment in Queens, that one mistake had already set my life on fire.
My uncle Silas had trashed my home, demanding money for my grandfather’s nursing home bill. When he saw Dorian’s encrypted phone, he didn't see a mistake; he saw a ransom. He sold me out to debt collectors who held a switchblade to my throat, forcing me to call the billionaire I had just abandoned. Dorian didn't save me out of mercy; he came to reclaim a security breach.
He treated my rescue like a cold business transaction. He had me fired from my job and forced me into a marriage contract just to secure his family trust. He even made me beg for my grandfather’s life, demanding a humiliating act of submission for a medical bill that was mere pocket change to him. To him, I was just a mute, broken girl—the perfect silent accessory for his public image.
"Welcome to hell, Mrs. McClain," he murmured, his voice a low rumble as he slid a massive diamond onto my finger.
He thinks my silence is a trauma-induced weakness. He thinks he bought a submissive pawn who will stay in her gilded cage. But as I sat in his penthouse and bypassed his "unbreakable" firewalls in seconds, I realized he had made a fatal mistake. Dorian McClain didn't just buy a wife; he invited the CIA’s most dangerous ghost into his private mainframe.
Echo is back online, and I’m going to burn his empire to the ground.