Too Late, My Alpha: You Killed Me
My sister, the pack's beloved future Luna, was dying of kidney failure.
Axel, the Supreme Alpha and the man I had secretly loved my entire life, used his Alpha Command to force the pen into my trembling hand.
"Sign the papers, Jana," he growled, his eyes glowing with a predatory red light. "Stop being selfish. Kyleigh needs a transplant, and you are the only match."
I tried to beg. I tried to tell him that I couldn't survive the surgery.
I tried to tell him that I had already secretly donated a kidney to our father five years ago—a sacrifice my sister had claimed credit for.
But Axel threw a stack of falsified medical scans in my face.
"Stop lying to save your own skin," he spat. "You are a useless, Wolfless Omega. This is your only chance to be of value to this pack."
He didn't know that Kyleigh had been poisoning me with Wolfsbane for a decade to suppress my inner White Wolf.
He didn't know that the anesthesia wouldn't work on my poisoned body.
I felt every inch of the silver scalpel as they cut me open to harvest my only remaining kidney.
I died on that table, listening to the man I loved call me dramatic.
But death was not the end. My spirit floated above the chaos, watching as the surgeon's face turned pale with horror.
"She only had one!" the doctor screamed, holding up the blackened organ. "Alpha, look at the old scars! We just killed her!"
Only after my heart stopped did the scent-masking drugs fade.
Axel fell to his knees in the blood-soaked room, finally smelling the scent of rain and pine he had been searching for his whole life.
He realized he had just butchered his true mate to save a liar.
"Jana?" he howled, clawing at his chest.
But I was already gone.
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Chapter 4
Jana POV:
The operating room was cold. It smelled of antiseptic and steel. It was a smell that promised nothing but oblivion.
I lay on the narrow table. They had stripped me of my clothes and covered me with a thin blue sheet. Above me, the surgical lights were like giant, unblinking eyes.
"Heart rate is erratic," a nurse said, looking at the monitor.
Dr. Hermine Sanchez walked in. She was the Pack Healer, a woman known for her stern face and 'Magical Sight'. She could see illnesses that machines missed. 'But today, she looked flustered, dragged in from her home on a Sunday.'
'"Where are the pre-op scans?" Dr. Sanchez demanded, snapping on her gloves. "I haven't seen the donor's chart. I need to check her aura compatibility."
'"There's no time!" Axel burst into the room. He was wearing a surgical gown over his suit, disregarding protocol. "Kyleigh's heart stopped twice in the hallway. Her personal physician sent over the files yesterday-they said Jana is a perfect match. Two healthy kidneys. Just do it!"
'Dr. Sanchez hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. "She looks septic, Alpha. Look at her skin color. I need five minutes to-"
'"You don't have five seconds!" Axel slammed his hand on the metal tray. "That is an order, Healer Sanchez. Save your Luna, or get out of my pack!"
'Dr. Sanchez clenched her jaw. She was bound by the Alpha's order. She couldn't refuse, and she couldn't delay.'
'"Fine," she spat. "Anesthesia?"
'"Administered," the nurse said nervously. "But... she's burning through it. Her metabolism is spiking."
'Dr. Sanchez looked at me with pity. She didn't see the poison yet-the adrenaline and the chaotic energy in the room were masking my aura. She just saw a dying girl.'
"Jana," she said softly. "We have to use silver scalpels. It's the only thing that cuts wolf skin. Because of your... 'resistance'... the anesthesia won't work fully. 'We can't wait for it to take effect.'"
"I know," I whispered. "I will feel it."
"I'm sorry," she said. And she meant it.
Axel walked up to the table. He looked down at me. For a second, his hand hovered over my hand, as if he wanted to hold it. But then he pulled back, clenching his fist.
"I deposited two million dollars into an account for you," he said. His voice was stiff. "When you wake up, you can go anywhere. Paris. Tokyo. You always wanted to travel."
I looked at him. He remembered. He remembered that silly dream I told him when we were teenagers, sitting on the roof watching the stars.
"You can't buy a life, Axel," I said. My voice was calm now. The fear was gone. Only exhaustion remained.
"It's not payment," he snapped. "It's... care."
"Care," I repeated. I let out a dry, rattling laugh. "Goodbye, Axel."
He flinched. "It's not goodbye. You're just giving a kidney. Stop being dramatic."
He turned his back on me. He walked to the observation window where Kyleigh was being prepped in the next room. He put his hand on the glass, looking at her with longing.
"Start," he ordered.
Dr. Sanchez sighed. She picked up the scalpel. The blade was made of pure silver. Even the sight of it made my skin crawl.
"Count backward from ten, Jana," she said.
"Ten," I said.
The blade touched my skin.
It wasn't just a cut. It was fire. It was liquid lightning pouring into my body. The silver reacted with my wolf blood, searing the edges of the wound instantly.
"Nine."
I gritted my teeth. I would not scream. I would not give them the satisfaction.
"Eight."
The pain dug deeper. They were cutting through muscle now. I felt the retractors pulling my ribs apart. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, hot and fast.
"Seven."
My heart monitor began to beep faster. 'Beep-beep-beep-beep.'
"Six."
I looked at the ceiling. I imagined the moon. I imagined running through a forest of snow, free, strong, loved.
"Five."
The pressure changed. They were clamping the artery. My breath hitched.
"Four."
The darkness was creeping in at the edges of my vision. It was a soft, welcoming velvet darkness.
"Three."
I saw a flash of white light. A wolf. A magnificent white wolf stood at the foot of the table. She looked at me and bowed her head.
'Come,' she seemed to say. 'It is time to rest.'
"Two."
The monitor changed its tone. The frantic beeping slowed down.
"One."
I didn't say zero.
The pain stopped. The cold stopped. The sound of Axel's voice shouting something in the distance faded away.
The line on the monitor went flat. A long, continuous tone filled the room.
I closed my eyes, and I let go.
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8.6
In my past life, the Cerberus strain leaked, turning the world into a blood-soaked hell of rotting flesh and mutated monsters.
I thought my boyfriend Declan and my best friend Hailee would have my back as we fled the quarantine zone.
Instead, when the surging crowd of the infected cornered us, they didn't hesitate.
They shoved me backward into the horde just to buy themselves three seconds to run.
As I fell into the mud, I saw them fleeing without a single backward glance.
"She's dead weight anyway!" Hailee screamed.
"Just keep running, she'll distract them!" Declan yelled back.
I was torn apart, feeling the agonizing tear of rotting teeth sinking into my neck and the hot spray of my own blood.
Before the apocalypse, my greedy uncle had locked away my ten-million-dollar trust fund, leaving me with nothing but a fake boyfriend who only wanted me for my money.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the people I loved most could trade my life for a head start.
Why did I blindly trust them? Why didn't I see through their perfectly choreographed lies?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of decaying flesh vanished, replaced by the sterile smell of my college dorm room.
Hailee and Declan were standing over my bed, faking tears of concern over my meningitis fever.
I was back exactly seven days before the world ended, and my spatial vault ability had come back with me.
This time, I'm extorting my uncle for every cent, hoarding the city's supplies, and leaving them all to rot.
9.0
I died alone in the medical wing giving birth to our son.
"Tell her to calm down and stop the theatrics."
Those were the last words my mate, the Alpha, said about me while I bled out.
Instead of passing on, my soul was tethered to the packhouse. I was forced to watch my best friend Seraphina seamlessly step into my life, taking my baby and my husband before my body was even cold.
To secure her place, she planted my blood-soaked birthing blanket in the woods to frame me for faking my own kidnapping.
Ryker swallowed her lies completely. He refused to send a search party, telling the entire pack my disappearance was just a pathetic plea for attention and money.
As a helpless ghost, I watched Seraphina brainwash my one-year-old son into calling her his mother and teach him to joyfully trample my beloved garden.
"Bad mommy ran away. Don't love Kaelen."
Hearing my own child parrot those venomous words was a dagger to my soul.
Whenever anyone questioned my absence, Ryker fiercely defended her, dismissing the desperate warnings of my loyal friends and his own elders.
The man I loved and died for treated my memory like a malicious joke, grateful for an excuse to replace me while living with my murderer.
But when Seraphina's mask finally slipped, and the horrifying truth of my death crashed down on him, it was far too late.
Seeing him crumble in agonizing regret brought me no comfort.
I no longer wanted his love or his desperate apologies.
Now, I only wanted his absolute ruin.
9.3
Halie woke up to a sharp pain and a terrifying reality. She was in a new body, her face covered in a hideous web of scars, and her spiritual power reduced to a pathetic D-Class.
Before she could even process the memories of being framed, her bedroom doors were violently kicked open.
Her sister Seraphina sauntered in with a venomous sneer, followed closely by Halie's S-Class fiancé, Jett.
"Look at the disgrace of the Avila family. What a waste," Seraphina mocked, throwing a mirror at her bed.
"I can't be tied to a cripple. As an S-Class, I have to break our engagement," Jett added, his gaze full of disgust.
The nightmare didn't stop there. Her father called, screaming about how she had shamed the family name. He officially stripped her of her inheritance, froze all her accounts, and exiled her to the decaying Southern District to rot.
To make matters worse, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her skull, warning her of an impending genetic collapse. Without an immediate energy infusion, she would face total organ failure in thirty days.
A ruined face, a treacherous family, a world that wanted her dead, and a literal death clock ticking in her brain. The original owner had died in absolute despair, a tragic victim of sheer cruelty.
But if they thought she would just sit there and die, they were severely mistaken.
Armed with a mysterious system and her brilliant scientist mind from her past life, Halie packed her bags. She chose the craziest survival quest: head to the slums, find the exiled, sterile S-Class "madman" Coleman, and cure him to harvest his life energy. It was time to start her counterattack.
9.2
At the absolute summit of her pop-star career, the stage collapsed beneath Catherine's feet, plunging her into a mechanical black hole.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in a hospital, but a savage, primitive forest.
Before a fire-breathing beast could tear her apart, a massive black snake crushed it with a single strike.
The terrifying serpent then transformed into Amon, a towering, heavily scarred man with golden slitted eyes, who swore his life to protect her.
He brought her to his tribe, but instead of safety, they were met with ravenous hunger and disgust.
The tribe's males stared at Catherine's fragile human body like a rare breeding prize, while treating Amon like garbage.
"He's a cursed, cold-blooded freak! His rut will tear you to pieces!"
The Chief sneered, pointing a thick, accusing finger at Amon.
"By tribal law, you must mate with our strongest tiger and bear shifters to give us powerful cubs!"
Humiliated, Amon's broad shoulders slumped, his fists trembling in suffocating shame as he prepared to back away.
Catherine's heart pounded with fierce, burning anger.
When she was about to be eaten, Amon was the only one who bled for her.
Where were these arrogant bullies then? Why should she let them treat her savior like a monster?
As the tribe's strongest warriors swarmed forward to claim her, Catherine stepped directly in front of Amon's lethal claws.
"I don't need any of you," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"I will mate with Amon and take his beast mark today!"
8.2
To save my brother's life, I married a dead billionaire.
My new home was a freezing, high-tech mausoleum where I was ordered to hold a year-long vigil beside Byron Hyde's cryogenic pod.
But I wasn't alone in the dark.
Every night, a terrifying shadow smelling of whiskey and sandalwood pinned me to my narrow bed.
It tore my clothes and brutally claimed my body, leaving me bruised and trembling until dawn.
When I begged the housekeeper for help, showing her my torn skin, she just smiled cruelly.
"It seems the master's spirit has accepted you."
I thought I was being haunted by a vengeful ghost, until Byron's arrogant nephew broke into the tomb to assault me.
His tampering triggered the life-support system, and the heavy lid of the pod hissed open.
Byron Hyde sat up, his eyes lethal and his skin shockingly warm.
He was alive.
Looking at his broad shoulders, I caught the faint scent of whiskey and sandalwood.
The horrific truth hit me like a physical blow.
My nightly tormentor wasn't a ghost. It was my living, breathing husband.
When I confronted him, his eyes were cold and clinical.
"That was a necessary test. I had to know if my wife would break."
A white-hot rage choked me, but I didn't scream or run.
He slipped the priceless, heavy sapphire of the family matriarch onto my finger, offering me absolute power over the treacherous relatives who wanted us both dead.
To fight a monster, you can't be a victim.
I looked into his deep, dangerous eyes and accepted the ring.
If this was a cage, allying with the keeper was the only way to find the key.
9.7
Eighteen months ago, the man I loved shattered my heart, claiming everything between us was a mistake. Now, he's back, a ghost of his former self, a rookie tryout in my pro esports team. And I will make him regret crawling back.
Clifton, captain of a legendary esports team, was secretly battling a severe wrist injury that threatened his career, every match a fight against his own body. He pushed through the pain, ignoring doctors' warnings, desperate to maintain his god-like status.
His world was already on the edge, but nothing prepared him for seeing Justice Terry again in the team basement. Justice, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with naked terror, was now a rookie tryout.
Clifton had spent a year and a half trying to forget that rainy Chicago alley, the raw revulsion in Justice's eyes, the whispered "it wasn't real" that had left him heartbroken. Justice had vanished, and Clifton had erased every trace. Now, the boy who once looked at him like he was the sun was back, flinching at his touch, displaying a deep, primal fear. Amidst sponsor pressure and whispers of being "washed," Clifton saw Justice's return as a chance for vengeance. He publicly humiliated Justice on a live stream, forcing him into a suicide mission, then coldly benched him.
Yet, the satisfaction never came. Instead, a hollow emptiness and a torrent of questions: What had truly happened in the past? Why was Justice here, and what trauma had carved such fear into his bones?
Clifton, unwilling to be fooled again, swore to uncover every secret and every lie. He would force Justice to explain why he had returned, even if it meant tearing down everything they both had left.