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 3
IVY
"Ugh, Talia. This song is ass," I groaned.
We were making our way to the bus pick-up point, the last rays of moonlight beginning to vanish. Talia was jamming to something loud and overly motivational, the kind of song that made you feel like you could win in life by getting a gym membership.
She scoffed. "I will not tolerate any slander against Imagine Dragons. They're amazing."
"Maybe," I said. "Just not at 5:30 in the morning, when I'm still deciding whether I want to be alive."
She laughed and rolled her eyes at me, but she at least changed the song. I was fairly certain the drowsy streets of New York appreciated my sacrifice.
A softer melody flowed out of the speaker. "Happy, now?" she asked, smug.
"Absolutely."
I gave her a wide, cheeky smile.
Talia glanced at me and did a double take. She squinted. "Did you...do something to them? Have they always looked like that?"
"Like what?"
"Pointy," she remarked. "Did you get them done or something?"
I resisted the urge to put my hand to my teeth to check out what she was saying. Laughing a little too loudly, I rolled my eyes.
"Pfft. No." I said. "You're seeing things. Spent too much time thinking about Townsend, by chance?"
It was a poor attempt at deflection, and I knew Talia only let it slide because she was being nice.
"Ewww," she slapped my wrist on the armrest. "That boy is disgusting."
I chuckled nervously and turned toward the window. I felt the weight of her stare until we pulled into the parking lot.
The place was already crowded when we arrived. Half-awake students clustered together in cliques and rolled their suitcases across the asphalt, everyone's voices creating an offbeat harmony in the stillness of the early morning..
Talia had parked and was getting our stuff out of the car. Well, mostly her stuff-she might as well have packed for the entire school.
I glanced toward the bus doors, registering a face I vaguely recognized before my attention drifted to Talia.
"Hey, get this for me." She handed me a purple suitcase whose weight almost pulled me to the ground.
"My God, what's in this thing?"
She pouted her lips. "It's for my LA aesthetic."
I didn't even bother inquiring what that meant.
She turned toward the bus and pointed. "I'll get us two seats. "Just wait over here with the luggage until the workmen come to take it in."
She ran ahead before I even had a chance to respond.
Better her than me. I doubt I would have been able to push and jostle for space in there.
I waited a while for the workmen to look in my direction and then waved them over to move our stuff. The sun was beginning to rise, so I fired a few texts to my parents letting them know that I was about to leave for the trip. They wouldn't see it till they returned from the ceremony and that was a few hours more at best.
Looking toward the bus, I saw that our stuff had already been placed inside, so I made my way toward it. Everyone was already inside waiting, so I expected some groaning from them for wasting their time-the last person to board always got a small ceremony: a glance, a sigh, maybe a few teasing whispers.. But as I walked down the aisle no one even noticed. They were either chatting with their friends, talking about all they would do on this trip- which I wished I hadn't overheard- or on their phones deciding which songs to play during the ride.
Unseen. Even here, among other humans who didn't themselves stand out.
I continued moving, trying to spot where Talia was, the buzz of conversation gusting past me like a breeze, laughter, jokes and elbows all moving around my body.
Spotting her wave from the back, I stepped into the row in front of her. Townsend, reeking of overconfidence and early morning vodka, strutted over to the empty seat next to Talia.
"Hello, darling," he patted the chair. "Is this seat taken?"
I've known Talia since we sat next to each other in our first class in college, and we've been inseparable ever since. But I've never understood how commanding her presence is; she is a force herself.
One look from her had Townsend backing away.
"Just trying my luck again, darling," he smirked, his hands raised in feigned innocence as he walked backward.
I plopped down on the seat just as Talia suppressed a shudder. "Why does he bother me so much?"
She took a mini perfume out of her purse and sprayed it around her , as if his presence polluted her aura.
"Well," I joked trying to make her feel better. "Maybe, he only annoys pretty girls."
She smiled sheepishly for a second, then seemed to remember that I, too, was a girl.
"Oh shit," she covered her mouth. "No, no. He would have bothered you too."
I let out a loud cackle.
"Mhmm," I mumbled and she blushed, turning to the window to watch the sunrise.
The journey started, and it was a blur of buildings and streetlights that were gradually switching off. The stars faded into the background of the blue sky as the sun came up. Some girls were trying to film the sunrise and others were fast asleep on their boyfriends' laps. I knew my parents would arrive home soon; they always stayed up the entire night during ceremonies and needed to sleep as soon as the sun rose so that could wake up and get on with their day. Mum would probably call me soon and ask for the outfit I wore-the woman would wear gold earrings to the store-she'd lose it if she knew I was wearing my dad's old shirt.
Not that she'd ever find out, though.
I stared out the window, letting the rhythm of the road take over. Somewhere past the state line, I realized we'd left New York long ago and were approaching LA. There was a restlessness in the air, in the shadow of the buildings, in the way the city stretched along the coast. Los Angeles wasn't New York. It wasn't the careful, measured chaos I was used to. New York had a pulse I could grasp- fast, unyielding, but predictable.
My parents had brought me once, years ago, when he went for a pack gathering. I was really young, too young to be trusted with anyone back home, so they always brought me along on their trips. Even then, the city felt alive, not in the way of busy people, or with the buzz of entertainment and opportunities that LA was known for. It pulsed differently, like a coiled spring ready to snap. I told myself that was just Los Angeles.
Cities each had their own personalities, didn't they?
"Hey, Collins. Pass me the aux," one guy shouted from the middle seat.
"Ooh, Ivy" Talia looked to me in earnest. "Do you think I should ask for it, too?"
I gave her a dry look. "I don't think anyone's in the mood to listen 'Radioactive' five times, Talia."
She narrowed her eyes in challenge. "Townsend," she beckoned sweetly.
He turned to face her eagerly.
"Could you please get me the aux?"
And then, quicker than a drunk person should have had a right to move, just as Collins was about to pass the aux to the kid who had asked, he snatched it and offered it to Talia..
Her smile dimmed as Townsend blew her a kiss and I could see that she was trying her best not to squirm.
"You're ridiculous." I said as Imagine dragons began to play on the speakers.
Putting on my headphones, I tried to focus on the road.
I was about to get some snacks from my bag when everyone noticed that the bus had stopped moving.
"What's going on?" Talia raised her brows.
I took off my headphones and looked out the window.
"What the fuck are those? Coyotes?" Townsend shouted.
Our bus had stopped on a dusty path beside a green field, and surrounding us, cutting off every way forward, was a pack of wolves.
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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.