After ten years of dedication, Syra is divorced by her Alpha, who goes back to his first love. Feeling betrayed, she enters a love game with her former Mate and fiancé that she abandoned. The game... “Let’s play a game,” I purred. “You’ve got three months. In that time, you can try any type of flirting, seducing, or courting—bad boy style. Pull every trick you’ve got. Make me want you. And if, by any chance, my heart so much as skips a beat when I see that ridiculously handsome face of yours? You win. You mark me, and I’m yours.” “Any kind of flirting?” he asked, amused now. I nodded. “Yeah, bad boy. All of it. Make me want you. But if you fail… then I use you for a year—your name, your power, your resources—and after that, you release me. So… what do you say, Mr. Steinhart? In or out?”
Lihat lebih banyakSYRA
“What is all this?” I whispered, my breath catching as my trembling fingers brushed the edge of the papers Asher had just placed before me. My heart pounded in my ears, louder than his voice.
“Divorce papers, Syra,” he replied coldly, his eyes fixed anywhere but on me—like I was already a distant memory.
“Dah, genius, I can see that,” I choked out with a bitter laugh, frustration bleeding into my voice as I took a shaky step back. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Asher. Are you for real right now?”
He snapped then, his tone curt, like he was scolding a child instead of breaking me. “We’ve already gone over this, Syra. I appreciate your commitment—hell, I respect it—and that’s why I’m offering to split everything fairly.”
“You appreciate me?” I echoed, stunned, my voice barely a whisper now. “Are you insane, Asher? We’ve been married for ten damn years. Ten years! And this is how you end it?”
“Come on, Syra,” he growled, his voice rising as he glanced at the glass walls of the office, noticing the staff outside, ears perked, eyes flicking. “Don’t make a scene.”
I felt something in me shatter. “Huh! Half the employees are wolves, Asher—they can hear us whether I scream or not,” I snapped, throwing the papers down onto the desk like they’d burned me. “You’re really going to toss our marriage away for that bitch?”
He chuckled—he actually chuckled—and it sliced through me like a blade.
“Marriage?” he scoffed. “Syra, be honest with yourself. Our marriage was a contract. You needed me, I needed you. It was business—nothing more. But she…” His voice dropped, almost reverent. “She’s the woman I love. And I’m going to mark her in three month.”
I laughed, hollow and cracked. It felt like the only thing left I could do without collapsing. “Seriously, Asher? Fuck you.”
I turned, storming out of the office, brushing past stunned employees who tried hard not to meet my gaze. My blood boiled, vision blurred, but I didn’t stop until I reached the elevator.
_____________________________________________________________________
“He wants to divorce me,” I cried, voice trembling. “Ten years, Janey. Ten fucking years. I gave him everything. I stood by him when he was nothing, when he couldn’t even pay his debts—when he almost took his own life. I lifted him up. I made him laugh. And now he’s going to mark her?”
Janey held me tighter, her hand gently rubbing my back. “It’s okay, child. It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t.
It wasn’t okay.
“She left him, Janey! She left him and ran off to the UK chasing her stupid dreams. And I—I stayed. I stayed when he was at rock bottom, when he had no one. And now?”
My chest ached, every sob sharp as glass in my throat.
“How can someone change so much?”
But the truth hit me harder than his words. Somewhere deep down, I’d always known. I was the lifeline—never the love of his life. The convenience. The back-up plan. The investor. My father had warned me. He saw the greed in Asher’s eyes even when I was too blinded by heartbeats and stupid dreams. I gave up my place in the Moonclaw pack. I sacrificed everything. And now?
Now I was being tossed aside like expired parchment.
I stumbled into the nearest washroom, gripping the sink, staring at the wreck I’d become in the mirror. My makeup had smudged into thick black streaks beneath my eyes.
Mascara and heartbreak didn’t mix well. I looked like a ghost of the woman I once was.
A soft laugh escaped my lips.
Just a cruel fucking joke.
All those years, all those promised marking ceremonies… always postponed, always “not the right time.” Of course, he never meant to mark me.
I was just a placeholder.
That’s when I stumbled on the kind of information that slaps sobriety into your bones, even if you’re three glasses into a bottle of emotional ruin. My steps faltered outside the washroom as a woman's voice echoed from just around the corner—crisp, amused, and oblivious to the storm she was stirring inside me.
“Yeah, I’m serious. It’s all over the company. In order for Adrian to inherit the empire, he has to get married.”
I froze.
Her voice laced with sarcasm and curiosity continued, unconcerned.
“That’s not all. I heard he might be looking for anyone. Like, no mate bond required—just someone bold—or stupid—enough to say yes.”
A pause. Then a sharp, humorless chuckle.
“Put the money aside, of all Alphas, who the hell has the guts to accept Adrian? I mean, the guy is a walking nightmare. Just imagine being his bride, let alone bearing his mark. Ugh. Gives me chills just thinking about it.”
I didn’t realize my fists had clenched until my nails bit into my palms. My breath caught, lips parted slightly as I stared into the cracked mirror in the hallway, catching sight of the broken woman blinking back tears with mascara-streaked cheeks.
She was me. And she was tired of being pitied.
I sniffed, dragging my trembling fingers down my face as if trying to peel off the pain. The mirror didn’t lie. I looked like hell—hair disheveled, eyes red, lips trembling—but behind the mess was a glint of something fierce. Something dangerous.
Maybe this was the worst idea I’ve ever had.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was time to play the game.
A wicked game.
I squared my shoulders, chin lifting slightly as my reflection hardened. If the world was a battlefield, then I’d stopped being the collateral damage.
______________________________________________________________________
The Next Day….
“Here. I’ve signed the damn papers.”
I hurled the documents right at his face.Asher flinched, stumbling back a step, his lips still glistening with her gloss. He shoved Kate aside like she was a mere inconvenience.
“What the hell, Syra? Ever heard of knocking?”“Tch,” I scoffed, my eyes locking with hers. She looked smug—like she’d just scratched a winning lottery ticket.
“Hi, Syra,” she said, all sugar and venom. “Didn’t know you’d be dropping by.”God, how badly I wanted to rip that fake smile right off her face.
Asher shuffled through the papers, his expression twisting into disbelief.
“What is this?” he asked. “You don’t want anything?”“Yeah, dumbass. I don’t want a cent from a man who tosses loyalty like trash,” I snapped. “You want a divorce? There—you got it.”
I stepped forward, slamming my palms onto the glass table with enough force to rattle his fancy pen set.
“Let's get this straight. This is me cutting you off, Asher. No strings, no shared memories, no apologies. Just like you threw away everything we built, so will I. But don’t you dare come crawling back when regret finally sinks its claws in.”He gave a lazy smirk, dropping the signed papers like they were of no consequence.
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” He extended his hand mockingly. “To new beginnings.”“Fuck you.”
I turned sharply, chest heaving, trying not to scream. I wanted to be composed, to walk out like he didn’t matter. But no one walks away from ten years without bleeding inside.
I stormed out, blinking rapidly to hold back the burning behind my eyes. I jabbed at the elevator button just as a sharp voice followed me.
“Hey, Syra! What the hell are you planning?”
Kate’s heels clacked obnoxiously as she strutted in, the doors sliding shut behind her.
“Drop the act, Kate,” I said coldly. “I already know what you are.”
She scoffed, flipping her ponytail back like she was in some damn commercial.
“Oh, poor Syra,” she purred. “Still pretending you were anything but a placeholder? He always belonged to me. You were just the filler until I came back. Ten years or a hundred—he’d still pick me. I’m the real mate.”That was it.
My vision tunneled. Something inside me snapped as my wolf stirred.
Before I realized what I was doing, my hand was around her throat, lifting her clean off the ground. Her feet kicked as she clawed at my wrist, eyes wide with panic.
I leaned in, voice low and laced with frost.
“Pick up whatever trash I toss out, Kate. It won’t make you shine. I will always be above you—with or without Asher. You want to play Luna? Try surviving the war you just started.”I dropped her like the garbage she was.
She fell to her knees, gasping and wheezing, face pale as I towered over her.
“You started this war?” I smiled, slow and dangerous.
“You want to see a fucking real bad bitch”.
“ Let me show you what one looks like.”
THE UNIONALPHA LUMIE“Are you certain?” I ask, my voice low as Phillipa stands poised in front of the glowing board.She nods solemnly. “Yes. That’s exactly what the Memory Crystal revealed. According to his final message, we successfully decoded the ancient map. The seal of the second face is buried deep within Mount Kenya.”A curse slips from my lips as I rub my wrist, the tension crawling under my skin. “Damn it… so those bastards really are after the second face.”Hunter Oscar steps forward, brows furrowed. “This ‘second face’—what even is it? I mean, I get that it’s some kind of beast, but what exactly does it do?”Alpha Steinhart’s expression darkens as he speaks. “The Megetsune holds five faces—each a manifestation of pure destruction. The first is Possession. The second… Devour.” He pauses, jaw tight. “It’s not just a beast. It’s an abomination. Imagine a creature resembling a wolf, but taller than any Alpha, with piercing blue eyes, obsidian stone skin that deflects blad
ADRIAN“You’re serious? After all that—vomiting, groaning, collapsing—you just want red oranges?” I nearly choke on my own chuckle as I watch her lean against the bathroom wall, completely worn out. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion—but she was dead serious.“What? You’re the one who woke me up, so yeah. Red oranges,” she mutters, barely lifting her head.“Red oranges… in the middle of the night?” I exhale through my nose, pinching the bridge. Then I grin. “Screw it. Let’s make it romantic.”Ten minutes later, I pulled into Quickmart’s half-lit parking lot, still slightly amused, still half asleep. The idea was simple: grab the damn red oranges, get back, and put her to bed.I head to the fruit aisle, find the juiciest batch of red oranges, and then… I look up.She’s gone.I swear I left her seated by the car. Where the hell did she go?And then, like something out of a comedy sketch, I hear it. Packet crinkling. Loud, unmistakable. Like a raccoon in a
SYRAA scent pulled me from sleep — something sweet, floral, almost mischievous. It curled around my senses like silk, warm and teasing, coaxing me upright before my mind even caught up.I blinked.The room was drenched in soft red light, low and mysterious. Shadows flickered across the walls, cast by the quiet flame of scattered candles. The flowers came next — petals forming a path, as if someone had spilled romance right through the room, one bloom at a time.Then came the music.A single note. Gentle. Lonely. And then another, deeper, richer — a melody blooming in the quiet.I squinted through the glow and stilled. There he was.Adrian.Standing at the edge of his stupid dining table — which now looked like a scene stolen from a dream. A red cloth fell elegantly over the surface, two covered plates waiting, silver glinting softly. He stood tall, playing an actual violin like some phantom lover from a midnight novel. The bow glided across the strings, slow and deliberate.I glanc
WHITE CARNAGEBLUE CARNAGE: GABRIELLE SMITH“So, I’ll be in charge of the operation,” Judith announces as she stands by the tall glass window, her silhouette framed against the glittering city skyline below.“Was baiting them with the Solace Project your idea too?” I ask, settling into the seat across from Kane, who’s already lost in the slow pull of his vape. “I mean, there’s no way you could’ve just known Syra was the Blessed Luna, right?”She lets out a dry chuckle, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a sip. “Where I was raised, there was a legend—one that spoke of the return of the Alpha King and the rise of the Blessed Luna. Let’s just say,” she turns slightly, eyes gleaming under the low lights, “everything pointed to her. So I set the bait. I’ve waited for this moment longer than I can remember.”“And what happens if you finally go viral with your identity?” Zacharia chimes in from the shadows. “Are you prepared for that fallout? It’s been, what, ten years since you l
SYRA“Is it done?” I ask, looking at Linda as she adjusts her glasses.“The Crystal is just a mix of memories molded into one,” she replies.“Yeah,” Luiz chips in, “that’s why it’s called the Memory Crystal. What we’re curious about is how it actually works.”“Have you figured it out?” I ask—just as a soft chuckle echoes from the other team.“Are you serious? She cracked it? Stop bluffing. Even our brightest minds found it too complicated, and you’re saying she managed?” Josie scoffs. One of the main tech leads from Steinhart.“Stop messing around,” Kevin adds, voice dry. “You think we’re just here to watch?”“What is with these people?” Becky mutters under her breath, “We’re on the same side, you know.”Silence falls like a cold mist. They stare at us—challenging, skeptical.“Okay, Linda. The stage is yours, genius,” I say, motioning for her to continue.She turns to her laptop, fingers tapping away as a projection flickers to life on the screen. A visual of a human brain—complex, in
NEW GEN MOONHART PACKALPHA MAXWELL“I won’t sink into what’s going on—we all know why we’re here,” Adrian said, making that same annoying speech of his, the one that always sounded like a war anthem wrapped in smugness.It had been nearly a decade since the twelve of us last sat in this room together—our original headquarters back in Ngong Hills. Isolated, silent, and cloaked in mist most mornings, it was the perfect base. We all loved this place—the sharp breeze, the cold air, the quiet that wrapped around the hills like a shield.The meeting room was long, military in build—metallic walls, a war table at the center, and seats aligned like we were still those twenty-something overachievers competing with the old wolves on high-tier missions. We even had our own quarters at the back, designed for long-term stays.We were Moonhart—the new generation pack. Twelve of us, aged between twenty and twenty-eight when it all began. We bonded over the chaos of youth, purpose, and that relentl
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