A blanket excuse for weakness, for shirking responsibility.

Latest chapter

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    Where the fuck is she, Ava?

  Damian's POV The antique clock, its earlier ticking a subtle torment, now seemed to ring in my ears, its very existence mocking me with the relentless passage of time. I ripped it off the wall, tearing the heavy chain from its moorings, and smashed it to pieces under my heel, the delicate hands snapping like brittle bones, the glass crunching under the savage force of my fury. The mechanism inside splintered, finally silencing its infuriating rhythm. I stumbled back toward the ruined bar, leaning heavily on it with both hands, my chest heaving, my shirt sticking to my skin with cold sweat, plastered to my skin by the exertion of my rampage. My breath came in harsh, uneven gasps, each one a struggle. And still—still—the seconds passed, stretching into an eternity, an endless, agonizing crawl through the wreckage of my rage. Each one screamed the same question at me, echoing in the ruined room, in the shattered fragments of my control: Where the fuck is she, Ava? “Hospital?”

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    She stood at my side. Said the fucking vows. Let me put my mark on her. And now she thinks she can just…

  Damian's POV I don’t even remember walking down to the bar. The last coherent thought had been the chilling emptiness of her side of the bed, the mocking silence of her voicemail. One second, I was pacing like a caged animal upstairs, the gnawing anxiety and burgeoning fury a suffocating weight in my chest. The next, I was standing in front of the gleaming, extensive shelves of my private bar—whiskey, bourbon, scotch—bottles upon bottles, lined up like quiet, impotent soldiers, waiting to numb the raging storm in my chest, to douse the inferno she had ignited. My hand, acting on an instinct far more primal than thought, reached for the first bottle before I even realized it. A rare, twelve-year-old Macallan, a collector’s item that cost more than most people’s annual salary. I yanked the cork out with my teeth, a savage, almost animalistic gesture, the sharp wood grating against my enamel. I didn’t bother with a glass, didn’t waste a single agonizing second on formality. I tipped

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King     Gold-digging little....

  Damian's POV The wolf snarled, baring its teeth in my chest, its rage mirroring my own. She’s mocking you, Alpha. You trusted her, and she’s mocking you. She’s spitting on your claim. She’s laughing at your authority. My thoughts spiraled rapidly now, far too fast to control, dissolving into a chaotic maelstrom of suspicion and fury. Each possibility fueled the inferno. Did she go back to the hospital? To Eli? Maybe. That would make sense. Her brother was still in critical condition, after all, his life teetering on the brink. That was the reason she signed the contract, the reason she endured. But why wouldn’t she say anything? Why wouldn’t she tell me, her supposed mate, her financial benefactor? Why vanish like a thief in the night? And then another, darker, more insidious thought slithered into my mind, cold and venomous, poisoning every rational explanation. Or maybe… She’s not at the hospital. Maybe she’s with someone else. My hands tightened around the elegant edge of t

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    Midnight Fury

  Damian's POV It was the sound of silence that woke me. Not a gentle awakening, but a jarring jolt to my senses, a primal alarm blaring in the depths of my subconscious. I didn’t know what time it was — just that it was deeply, unnervingly dark, and the opulent bedroom, usually filled with the subtle hum of the house, was unnervingly quiet, save for the faint, monotonous ticking of the antique clock on the bedside table. My eyes cracked open reluctantly, adjusting to the oppressive shadows cast by the moonlight that spilled through the sheer, whisper-thin curtains, painting the floor in shades of ghostly silver. Something felt… wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong. A visceral unease settled in my gut, sharper than any business deal gone sour. My hand, acting on an instinct I hadn’t known I possessed, instinctively reached toward the other side of the vast, emperor-sized bed — the side where she was supposed to be, where her presence had been a cool, almost distant weight just hours b

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    You’re smart not to answer!

  Ava's POV But I could feel it. Feel the searing weight of his eyes on me, cold and unyielding, as though he could peel back my skin, see every frantic beat of my heart, every single crack in my brittle armor. He was dissecting me, piece by agonizing piece. “You’re already shaking,” he murmured, his voice closer now, dangerously close. He had taken another silent step towards me. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, Ava. A frantic little flutter. You think I’m going to hurt you?” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Any sound would betray the terror that choked me. That amused him even more. A low, pleased hum resonated in his chest. “You’re smart not to answer,” he said flatly, stripping the shirt off completely and tossing it carelessly onto the floor beside the bed, a stark white pool against the dark carpet. His chest was broad, powerful, corded with lean muscle, his skin faintly marked with old scars—faint, silvery lines, relics of past battles. His wolf prowled just beneath th

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King     I didn’t dare move, didn't breathe.

  Ava's POV The soft, decisive click of the door was the only warning. I froze, every muscle in my body locking into a rigid tableau of fear. The faint sound of the lock turning was louder than the frantic blood rushing in my ears, louder than the pounding of my own terrified heart. My hands, which had just finished desperately wiping the last stubborn tears from my cheeks, fell uselessly into my lap, trembling uncontrollably. He was here. Damian Blackwood. My mate. My captor. I didn’t dare move, didn't breathe. My gaze was fixed on the intricate pattern of the carpet, hoping that if I remained perfectly still, perfectly silent, he might somehow overlook me. A foolish, child-like hope. The door opened slowly, deliberately, a dark rectangle widening into the brightly lit room, and he stepped inside, filling the doorway, his silhouette imposing and vast. He didn’t say a word. He rarely did, not when silence could be used as a weapon, as a means of intimidation. His dark