LOGINAurora "Rory" Moonridge survived the unthinkable: kidnapped at eight, experimented on and left for dead. Now, at twenty-four, she's clawed her way to becoming Alpha of Shadow Moon pack, hiding her scars behind a mask of strength and the lie of a dead mate. She's convinced she's too damaged to ever bond with anyone. Then she meets him. He's powerful. Dangerous. Infuriating. Their clashes are legendary—two Alphas who can't stand to be in the same room. But beneath the hostility, something else simmers that neither of them understands. As Rory navigates treacherous pack politics and fights to keep her secrets buried, her past comes roaring back. The scientist who tortured her is hunting her again, backed by a conspiracy that reaches the highest levels of power. Council members are manipulating politics from the shadows. A human president is pulling strings she can't see. And worst of all, someone from her own bloodline is orchestrating it all. When the truth finally surfaces that she and the Alpha she can't stop thinking about are fated mates, everything changes. He's been living under a witch's prophecy for ten years… a prophecy that his true mate will be his destruction. And now that mate is her. With a curse threatening to turn her into his killer, enemies closing in from all sides, and a war that will cost the lives of those she loves most, Rory must choose: run from the bond she never saw coming or fight for a love that could destroy them both. Because some bonds are forged in blood and betrayal. Some loves are worth breaking curses for. And Aurora Moonridge is done being anyone's victim! A dark paranormal romance featuring a traumatized heroine finding her strength, enemies-to-lovers tension, found family, political intrigue, and a love that breaks fate itself.
View MoreThe Elder Council building was a monolithic fortress of white marble and sheer glass, designed specifically to make anyone standing before it feel entirely insignificant.Rory stood at the base of the massive front steps, her boots rooted to the pavement.The air was thick with the scent of hundreds of wolves—power, aggression, and suffocating politics.Her chest tightened with the familiar claws of panic scraping against her ribs. Underneath the long sleeves of her silk blouse, the silver bracelets burned a steady, agonizing rhythm into her flesh.Rory focused on the burn, letting it anchor her.Beside her stood Zane and on her other side was Kira."Ready?" Zane asked quietly, stepping up beside her."Let's go." Rory's voice was flat.The moment they pushed through the heavy glass doors into the cavernous lobby, the atmosphere shifted.Conversations died mid-sentence, heads turned as the air grew thick with the scent of judgment and fear.Rory kept her chin high, her ice-blue eyes fi
By sunrise, Rory Moonridge felt like someone had shoved her under a truck, reversed over her, then left a polite note asking her to attend a formal execution disguised as politics.The note, unfortunately, was real.It sat on her kitchen counter where she’d thrown it earlier and tried to ignore through sheer force of personality.Rory stood in front of it drinking coffee strong enough to qualify as a medical event.Her ribs had healed badly overnight.The fractures had started knitting, but the suppressants slowed everything, leaving her side tender and tight beneath the black silk blouse she’d chosen because it hid bruises and made her look expensive enough to ruin someone’s morning.The mirror in the hallway had been less generous.Split lip. Swollen cheekbone. Faint bruising at the throat where the idiot from the cage had squeezed too hard. Her left eye had calmed from catastrophic to merely suspicious, which was fine.The Council liked fragile women. Rory enjoyed disappointing the
Lightning flashed across the windows and for one stark second, the bedroom appeared in silver fragments, revealing the black silk sheets tangled around a small, restless figure with dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.Then thunder rolled over the city.Rory didn’t wake.Her eyes moved frantically beneath her lids, fingers twitching against the sheets as if searching for something to hold, something to fight or something to kill.But there was nothing in the dark room except the storm, the sleeping city beyond the glass, and the nightmare dragging her under.Rory dreamed in white.White walls.White lights.White coats.The kind of white that wasn’t clean, no matter how hard they scrubbed it. The kind that smelled like bleach, silver, blood, and fear soaked too deep into tile to ever come out.Her wrists were strapped down and so were her ankles.Cold metal kissed the base of her skull, and something sharp slid beneath her skin with a wet, surgical pressure that made h
The city looked smaller from above.Rain dragged silver lines down the glass walls of a private office, blurring the towers, traffic, and neon-lit streets into something distant and obedient.Far below, people moved through the storm with their collars turned up and their heads bowed, unaware that half their laws, fears, and secrets eventually found their way to the man watching from the top floor.He stood near the window with one hand in his pocket and the other curled around a glass he hadn’t touched.He was tall, broad-shouldered, and still in the way predators were still before violence.His charcoal suit fit with brutal precision, black hair swept back from a face built from sharp angles and colder judgment, and his silver-gray eyes reflected the city without softening for it.Behind him, the office remained dark.No music, no warmth, no unnecessary comfort.Only dark furniture and a single fireplace burning low enough to look decorative until one noticed the lingering bitter sc






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