Vengeance Of The Reborn Mafia Queen
I was the Mafia Queen of the Castillo family, but I died like a dog in the damp underground interrogation room.
My sweet, fragile sister Chiara lured me into the cells, only to wrap a garrote wire tightly around my throat.
As the wire sliced into my windpipe and I choked on my own blood, a small figure stepped out of the shadows.
It was my ten-year-old son, Leo.
He watched his mother being strangled to death with cold, dead eyes, his past words echoing in my dying mind.
"I don't want a weak commoner for a mother! I wish Aunt Chiara gave birth to me!"
Chiara pulled the wire tighter, her mask of innocence melting into a grotesque, triumphant sneer.
"You never deserved him, Siena. You never deserved the crown."
I died in pure, suffocating agony, my soul screaming into the dark that if there was a next life, I would carve the flesh from their bones.
Then, I jolted awake, my lungs gasping for air against expensive silk sheets.
I wasn't in the bloody cells. I was in the luxurious Master Suite, and hovering over me was my ruthless husband, the Dark Don, Dante Castillo.
I had been reborn.
Leo was only a five-month-old baby sleeping down the hall, and tomorrow, my treacherous sister would arrive at the estate begging for sanctuary.
This time, I won't play the weak, forgiving sister. I will make them beg for death.
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Chapter 7
Siena POV
I was still shivering on the nursery floor amidst the shattered perfume bottles when the heavy doors swung open. It wasn't Dante. It was Greta, Elder Adeline’s high-ranking maid, flanked by two muscular female Associates.
"The Elder has suffered a severe heart episode," Greta announced, her tone leaving no room for refusal. "She requests the Queen's presence immediately."
My mind was too fractured from the phantom feeling of the garrote wire to fight back. Rosa tried to intervene, but the Associates practically dragged my numb, pale body out of the room and down the corridor to the East Wing Suite.
The air inside Adeline's quarters was thick with the suffocating scent of expensive herbs and old perfume. Adeline lay in her massive four-poster bed, clutching her chest in a theatrical display of agony.
"You send your lowly maid, Gia, to the courtyard to mock my ancient bloodline," Adeline gasped out, her eyes sharp with calculated malice. "Is this how the commoner Queen repays the Castillo family? By instructing your servants to humiliate us?"
Before I could even formulate a response through my dissociation, the heavy suite doors crashed open.
Dante strode in. The sharp, metallic scent of gunpowder and fresh blood clung to his tailored suit—he had just returned from a high-level Commission meeting. His dark eyes swept the room, instantly assessing my trembling frame before locking onto the Elder.
"Aunt," Dante’s gravelly voice was a lethal purr as he approached the bed. "Are you suspecting I instructed my wife to insult your bloodline?"
The absolute, suffocating authority of the Dark Don instantly crushed the air out of the room. Adeline paled, her fake illness suddenly feeling terrifyingly real. Dante didn't wait for her answer. He picked up the glass of water and her heart pills from the nightstand, leaning over her. He pressed the pills to her lips with a forceful, undeniable dominance—a silent death warning.
"Drink. You need your strength," he commanded softly. Adeline swallowed, her hands shaking.
Dante turned his cold gaze to his Capo, Luca, who stood by the door. "Take the maid, Gia, to the Underground Interrogation Room. Twenty lashes with a garrote wire. Then throw her in the cells."
I flinched at the word *wire*, the phantom pain in my throat flaring, but Adeline looked visibly relieved by the brutal concession. Desperate to regain her footing, she pushed a beautiful young woman forward from the shadows.
"Dante, my granddaughter Ami is of pure blood," Adeline urged nervously. "She can assist you with estate matters while Siena is... unwell."
Luca stepped closer to Dante, completely ignoring Ami. "Boss," he whispered, "the Queen is shaking."
Dante didn't even glance at Ami. He crossed the room in two long strides, scooped me up bridal style against his hard, gun-metal-scented chest, and walked out, leaving Adeline seething in her bed.
Back in the absolute safety of the Master Suite, the estate doctor administered a mild sedative. I drifted into a feverish nightmare. Chiara’s face twisted in a grotesque sneer as the wire cut into my windpipe. Leo’s cold, dead eyes watched me choke on my own blood.
I jolted awake, gasping for air, my hands clawing at my throat.
"Siena."
Dante was sitting on the edge of the bed, his rough thumb gently stroking my pale cheek. I lunged upward, burying my face into the crook of his neck. My fingers dug desperately into his broad shoulders, clinging to him like a drowning woman to a raft.
"Shh, you are safe," Dante murmured, his massive arms wrapping around me, locking me in his embrace. He thought Adeline's ambush had terrified me. "Leo is secure in the nursery, and Chiara has been settled in the outer district. No one will touch your family."
Those names were pure acid in my veins. A violent sob tore from my throat. I clutched his shirt, my voice cracking with raw, hysterical desperation.
"I don't want them!" I cried out, trembling violently against his chest. "I don't want Leo, and I don't want Chiara! Dante, I only want you. Please, only look at me. Only protect me. Please!"
Dante froze. To him, a mother abandoning her flesh and blood and a sister forsaking her sibling was sheer madness. But as I pressed my tear-soaked face against his neck, begging for his singular devotion, I felt the dangerous, predatory shift in his muscles. Beneath his shock, the Dark Don’s twisted, possessive soul was deeply, darkly satisfied by my absolute submission.
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9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
9.6
She was sold as a broodmare. He was a warrior with no memory. Together, they'll burn down the world.
Lyra has been called many things: half-blood, mongrel, dirty blood. Rejected by every pack she's approached, she's given one final chance-as a bride to Ronan, the cruel Alpha of Red River Pack. But when her wedding night becomes a nightmare, she stabs her new husband and flees into the frozen wilderness.
Stellan remembers nothing. Not his name, not his past, not the ancient tattoos covering his body. He only knows that when he sees a terrified woman falling from a cliff into an icy river, he must save her-even if it kills him.
On the run from a vengeful Alpha and his army of hunters, Lyra and Stellan discover an impossible bond growing between them. The moon has chosen them as mates. But Stellan's memories are returning, and with them, a devastating truth: he's not just any wolf. He's the Alpha of the North Star Pack. And a half-blood can never be his Luna.
Now Ronan's brother has sworn revenge, an ancient prophecy awakens, and three packs prepare for war. Lyra must prove that bloodlines mean nothing-and that the most powerful bond of all is forged in ice and fire.
He lost his memory. She lost her freedom. Together, they'll find everything.
9.2
When Alma's father stood in front of the bulldozers to protest, the energy company's thugs beat him half to death in the mud.
Instead of arresting the attackers, the police handcuffed her bleeding father and threw him into a cruiser.
"Stay back, kid," the officer barked, shoving Alma away.
Her father was denied bail and framed for assaulting an officer. The corrupt mayor just smiled and told her not to cause a scene. Meanwhile, the company mailed her weeping mother a severance check that barely covered a month of groceries.
Alma was forced to watch her family be completely destroyed by men with money and power.
Kneeling in the cold dirt where her father's blood had spilled, she didn't shed a single tear. The panic in her chest died, replaced by a cold, absolute hatred.
She realized that crying wouldn't do anything. In this world, justice didn't exist for the weak.
Years later, Alma stepped onto a prestigious Ivy League campus, her cheap backpack slung over her shoulder.
She was surrounded by the arrogant children of the very executives who ruined her life.
She lowered her head, hiding her dead eyes, and put on the perfect mask of a timid, helpless charity case.
Undergrad was just a training ground, and these elite kids were just her practice dummies. The hunt was officially on.
7.6
My baby daughter died in the cold hospital, and I agreed to donate her heart to save another pup. I brought her ashes home in a small wooden box, seeking comfort from my mate.
But when I returned to the packhouse, I found a massive celebration. My Alpha mate wasn't away on patrol; he was throwing a grand Naming Ceremony for his sister's newborn. He didn't even know our daughter was dead.
"Give Lyra the gift. Now."
He impatiently demanded I hand over the box in my arms. When his sister's son tried to snatch it, I pushed him away to protect my baby's ashes. His sister immediately screamed, accusing me of trying to hurt her children out of jealousy.
Without asking a single question, my mate grabbed my wrist, ready to smash the box to teach me a lesson. To save my daughter's remains, I had to drop to the floor, bare my neck in ultimate submission, and lie that it was just my late father's relics.
He was disgusted by my tears. Later, when I tried to jump off the balcony to end my pain, he pulled me back—not out of love, but because my suicide would ruin his perfect party. He locked me in my room and ordered the maids to force me into a bright red dress for the evening feast.
Looking at the red silk that mocked my bleeding heart, my despair finally died, replaced by a cold, venomous hatred. I tucked a white funeral flower into my hair and walked out the door. This time, I was going to turn their joyous celebration into a living hell.
8.3
The dragons and royals are at war. Dragons have power and the royals want it to cement their rule in their kingdoms. Rather than creating a bond between the two, the royals have been stealing dragon eggs, hoping they will bond with the dragon once it hatches, allowing the royal to become a dragon rider. However, there is a thief among them, someone who is stealing the dragon eggs and returning them to the dragons. Someone who, when found, will be put to death.
Princess Skylar is the daughter of King Augustus. Her father has been hunting dragon eggs for years. Unbeknownst to him, Skylar is the thief that he is searching for. She does not agree with stealing dragon eggs from the mothers who make their nests away from the other dragons, making themselves vulnerable to attack. Her betrothed, Prince Kenneth, also supports stealing dragon eggs in the hope of bonding with a dragon and making his kingdom stronger.
Ryuki is a dragon rider. He bonded with his dragon, Bynjym, a year ago when he stumbled across him in the wild. The bond between dragon and rider is sacred. Ryuki and other dragon riders believe that it should never be forced. The riders fight against the royals who steal dragon eggs, working to keep them from being able to access the eggs, or fighting to get the eggs back to their dragon mothers.
What will happen when Ryuki realizes that Skylar is a royal like no other? Can Skylar keep her secret from her father, continuing to work inside the palace to take the stolen eggs back to their mothers? What will happen when Skylar realizes that her feelings for Ryuki are much stronger than her feelings for Prince Kenneth? Find out in The Dragon Thief.