LOGINJosephine Carter is drowning. Her mother’s medical bills are piling up, her bank account is a disaster, and the only professional outfit she owns is her mother’s ancient pantsuit. Becoming a surrogate is her last chance to save the one person she loves most. But on the morning of her evaluation, Jo crashes her tank‑of‑a‑sedan into a shiny red sports car owned by the rudest, most arrogant, most unfairly handsome man she’s ever met. She yells at him. He yells back. She runs away.Then she finds out she’s going to carry his child. Derek Blackwell—Alpha of the Blackwell Pack, billionaire, and the agency’s most sought‑after client—is looking for a surrogate. Not for just any child. For the child he was meant to have with his late mate. His wife died of a rare illness after a lifetime of fighting it. They never mated, never completed the bond, never had the chance to start the family they dreamed of. But she froze her eggs before she passed, leaving Derek with one final piece of her… and one impossible choice. He needs an heir. But he can’t bring himself to choose another mate. Not when his heart still belongs to the woman he lost. And fate, in all its twisted humour, has matched him with the chaotic woman who dented his car and insulted him in traffic. Now Jo has to convince the Alpha she accidentally assaulted that she’s responsible enough to carry his child. And Derek has to decide whether the woman who crashed into his life might be the only one strong enough to carry his future.The contract is simple. The emotions are not. And the line between enemies, partners, and something dangerously close to destiny is getting thinner every day.
View MoreDerekCorrine stood over the bodies. Her hands were shaking, and her discarded clothes looked torn. She must have shifted into her wolf and back to her human self very quickly. It was rather impressive, but Derek knew how strong of a wolf Corrine was, despite her extremely polished human exterior. She was of Beta origin herself, and if need be, that heritage came through. And by the looks of it, there had been plenty of need.Her face looked nothing like the flawless and perfectly put‑together woman Derek knew. The make‑up was smudged in a way Corrine would hate to know had been seen by others. Her cheeks were deeply streaked with sweat and blood — not all of it hers, Derek could tell.“Goddess!” Declan exhaled, mirroring the exact thought Derek had, though the words from him came out sounding slightly less unholy.Corrine whimpered, exhausted, as she looked up at Derek and then at Declan, eyes wide, frantic, and shining with something between guilt, fear, and desperation. It was so
DerekAlpha Derek Blackwell never felt betrayal quite like this before. Maybe when his mate didn’t get better despite his pleas to the Goddess, he did feel betrayed by the Moon then, but it was different.Although he did not have all the details of what the hell was Corrine mixed up in, it did not look good.“Should we follow her?” Declan hissed, his voice sharp enough to cut through the fog of Derek’s spiraling thoughts.The question snapped Derek back into full, brutal awareness.His head jerked toward his Beta. “Yeah,” he muttered, jaw tightening. “I think that’s a good idea. We can try following her. Fuck, I have a bad feeling about this.”Bad feeling was an understatement. It was a bone‑deep certainty, a pressure behind his ribs that felt like a warning from the universe itself. Derek did not want Corrine mixed up in anything that would make her an enemy of his. Having to fight — both literal and not — his late wife’s best friend was the last thing he wished for. Yet his gut tol
The moment Liam turned his back to close the van door, something primal and reckless surged through me. It wasn’t bravery. It wasn’t strategy. It was pure, unfiltered panic wearing the flimsy disguise of determination. His silhouette blocked the dim warehouse light for a heartbeat, and in that tiny sliver of time, I saw my chance.And I took it.I launched myself forward with the chaotic energy of someone who had absolutely no idea what they were doing but was committed to doing it loudly. My feet slapped against the concrete floor, my breath tore out of me in ragged bursts, and my arms — still zip‑tied behind me — flapped uselessly like decorative accessories.I wasn’t running with grace. I wasn’t running with silence. I wasn’t running with intelligence either, as it seems.I was positive I was running like a deranged farm animal that had just discovered existential dread. Honestly, my grace was comparable to a pig that fell out of a lorry on the way to the slaughterhouse — confuse
Josephine I didn’t remember losing consciousness. One moment I was staring at the back doors of a speeding van, trying to decide whether I was more nauseous or terrified, and the next I was waking up like someone had slapped a reboot button on my brain. No gentle fade‑in, no dreamy transition — just a violent, jarring snap back into harsh reality.And reality was vibrating ominously.A deep, bone‑rattling hum travelled through the metal floor and straight into my skull, like the van had decided to audition as a migraine generator. It wasn’t just noise; it was a physical presence, a low mechanical growl that made every bolt and panel tremble. The smell hit me next — petrol, damp canvas, and something faintly sweet, like cough syrup spilled by someone who didn’t believe in cleaning. Then came the pain.A sharp, throbbing ache pulsed behind my eyes, beating in perfect, hateful rhythm with the engine. I groaned and tried to lift my head, only to discover that gravity had chosen violenc
Josephine I didn’t expect the results of the millions of tests they ran on me to come back so quickly. They poked, prodded, scanned, questioned, and siphoned off what felt like half the blood in my body — and I barely flinched. I’d been terrified of the psychological evaluation, convinced they’d d
Derek Derek Blackwell already regretted leaving pack land. The city pressed in on him the moment he crossed the boundary — noise, fumes, too many humans packed into too little space. Cars crawled along the road like wounded animals, horns blaring, engines whining. Morning rush hour. His persona
A week had passed without a sign from Beth or anyone at the agency. So much for “you’ll get a call within a week.”Then the week turned into two. Two turned into a month. And that month very quickly turned into three, like time was sprinting while my life was crawling behind it, wheezing.By the
Josephine “Are you a healthy and physically fit female aged between 20 and 40?” Check. “Do you consider yourself to be a selfless person that enjoys helping others?” Check, check and… check, I guess. “Hundreds of families that are unable to conceive are in need of your help in order to get the






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