LOGINTen years ago, Alice Wyatt lost everything. Her pack was wiped out. Her home burned. The boy who saved her life, Ryder Conner, took a bullet for her and never came back. Now she’s a rogue, surviving on scraps and memories until the night her brother is dragged into an underground race run by Alpha Jackal Rodah — the same monster who profits from killing and selling rogues. When Alice risks everything to save him, she crashes into a world she never expected to see again. Ryder Conner isn’t dead. He’s called Reign now — the ruthless biker Alpha everyone fears, the outlaw who kills for justice and leads a pack of wolves on wheels. And when he catches her scent in that blood-soaked race, he realizes the rogue girl defying Alpha Jackal is his fated mate. But Alice doesn’t recognize him. Worse, she rejects the bond, claiming she loves another. To Reign, her denial feels like betrayal. To Alice, his claim feels like a cage. Between them lies a decade of lies, vengeance, and a bond that burns hotter than hate.
View MoreRyderI freeze at the sound of chaos in the pack yard before I can even process it. Two guards thrown to the ground, bodies sprawled awkwardly. Others are scrambling to regroup. Nova is there. Standing tall, fierce, the kind of presence that commands violence and chaos like it’s an extension of her own body. Her men clash with the remaining guards, the clatter of fists, the smack of flesh, the grunt of effort filling the air.Then her eyes land on me. Just me. And the world tilts sideways. She freezes for a fraction of a second, and then the sound cuts through everything, screaming my name like a blade. “Reign?! Reign, my son! Give me my son! Quickly! I heard he’s in critical condition! Let me take him to his father—he can be saved there, please!”The words hit like bullets. My blood roars in my ears. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m standing here, seeing her, hearing her, and feeling the same surge of hatred, disbelief, and fury coil tight in my chest all at once. “You escape
RyderI turn toward the healer, shoulders tense, muscles tight from the hours hovering over Micah. “If my blood won’t work… then what can be done?” My voice is low, rough, more an edge of command than a question.The healer swallows, glances at the doctor, and steps closer. “We’ll need to find someone whose blood is compatible… for Micah. Your donation can’t stabilize him.”I stiffen. My fists curl. My chest aches. My blood won’t save him. My son—not mine. Not biologically. Not in a way that matters to these tests. I grip the edge of the bed for a second, trying to anchor myself, trying not to let the rage boil over.I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. “Fine. Then find someone. Do what you have to do. Just—keep him alive.” My words are clipped, sharp. I step back and push toward the door, my body heavy with exhaustion, every step dragging against the weight in my chest.The hallway hits me like a wall. The fluorescent lights harsh against my skin, the antiseptic smell lingering
(POV: Ryder)The doctor steps forward, holding a folder with trembling fingers. The quiet in the room feels sharp, pressing against my ears. My eyes lock on him. Every second, every motion counts. I’m already tense from the transfusion prep, from hovering over Micah, but this—this is different. My pulse spikes.“Alpha,” the doctor begins, voice steady, careful, but it hits me anyway, because the words about to leave his mouth are like a slap. “The results…” He hesitates, then exhales. “…there’s no biological match.”I freeze. The words punch through everything. No biological match. I blink, hard, unable to believe them. My jaw clenches, teeth grinding. My gut twists in a way that makes me want to throw something, kick something, scream something. I swallow, hard, trying to focus, but the room narrows, the air thickens. Micah lies there, unaware, but I can feel him in every fiber of me.“No match?” I growl, my voice low, dangerous. I step closer, fists curling, knuckles white. “What t
RyderI step into the ward, eyes scanning the space faster than my legs can carry me. The smell hits first—antiseptic sharp, metallic under it, reminding me immediately why I’m here. Micah’s lying on the bed, his chest rising unevenly, the faint sheen of sweat across his skin catching the bright hospital lights. He doesn’t move much. Not really. Not enough to ease the tension coiling in my stomach.The doctors don’t waste a second. Their hands move like machinery already set into motion. One leans over him, fingers pressing against the side, checking the wound that’s bled too freely. Another shifts a sheet, exposing bruises along his torso, tracing lines from the crash that I can’t unsee.“Alpha,” one of them calls, voice sharp but controlled. “He’s losing too much blood. We need a donor immediately.”My pulse spikes. My jaw tightens. I don’t hesitate. I don’t think.“Use mine,” I growl, voice low, almost a command. “Get it started. Now.”The doctor glances at me, assessing, then nods
AliceThe pack house settles into its usual nighttime rhythm by the time I slip into the garage.Most of the warriors have already finished dinner and drifted toward the main building, the distant murmur of voices carrying through the night air. The garage itself sits quiet, the faint smell of oil
AliceThe moment I push open the heavy metal door leading to the holding cells, the damp smell of stone and iron greets me. The air down here always feels colder than the rest of the pack house, and the faint echo of dripping water somewhere along the corridor doesn’t make it any more welcoming.My
Alice“What the hell happened to him?”The question rips out of me the moment I see them carrying Harvey through the pack house doors.Two warriors struggle under his weight, his arms draped over their shoulders, his boots dragging against the floor as they hurry inside. My heart drops straight to
AliceI find Gabe near the far edge of the training field just before sunset. The place is still busy, warriors moving across the packed dirt while the last drills of the day wind down. The dull thud of bodies hitting the ground and the sharp scrape of boots dragging through dust fill the air.Gabe






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