LOGINMINTHEStepping Down* * *There is a specific frequency to a man’s stupidity, and right now, Pierre Ashbourne is vibrating at a pitch that makes my teeth ache.The veins in his neck look like thick ropes ready to snap under the pressure.He is looking at me like I am a monster.My wrist is still throbbing where his fingers had brutally dug into my flesh only moments ago, the skin already darkening into an ugly, mottled purple beneath my sleeve.I open my mouth, the venom in my chest rising to the back of my tongue, ready to spill out and rip his generic, spineless protagonist persona to fucking shreds.I am done being the quiet, sacrificial lamb of the Ashbourne pack. I am so goddamn done.But before the first profane syllable can leave my lips, a soft, delicate hand brushes against Pierre.Lyria steps out from the shadows of the open corridor, her movements so fluid and graceful she might as well be floating.“Please, don’t be angry, Pierre,” Lyria murmurs, her voice a sweet,
MINTHEJealous of Lyria* * *Pierre’s massive, scarred hand is wrapped firmly around her waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as if he’s terrified she might vanish into thin air if he loosens his grip.The moment Pierre’s dark eyes land on me, his entire body stiffens.His chest heaves beneath his heavy leather jacket, his stride faltering for a fraction of a second.His gaze shifts instantly to the left side of my face, his pupils dilating as he stares at the angry, swollen red imprint of his own hand marking my skin.“What exactly are you doing here, Minthe?” Pierre asks, his voice rough and deep, carrying a strange, unstable hesitation that he quickly tries to mask with his usual booming Alpha authority.I drop my arms to my sides, standing perfectly straight, my posture entirely unbothered.I don’t look at him with hatred. I don’t look at him with longing.I look at him the way a merchant looks at a broken piece of inventory.“I just have something private
MINTHEThe Contract* * *The iron tang of my own blood tastes remarkably like defeat, coating the back of my throat that refuses to wash away.I stand rooted in the black mud of the ruined garden, my left cheek throbbing with a white-hot heat that radiates all the way down to my collarbone.The skin is already swelling where Pierre’s heavy palm had connected with brutal force.My right hand isn’t doing any better, dark, thick drops of blood drip steadily from my palm, staining the wet earth beneath my feet where the sharp wood splinters from my ruined carvings had sliced deep into my flesh.I don’t cry.I don’t even blink.Instead, I reach down with my uninjured hand, gripping the heavy fabric of my mud-caked woolen skirt.With a tug, I use my teeth to catch the hem, yanking hard until the fabric gives way with a loud, satisfying rip.The sound tears through the dead silence of the empty courtyard.Cassian stands a few feet away, his small shoulders trembling under his thin shirt, hi
MINTHEBe Like Lyria* * * “What the fuck did you just do?!” The older Omega finally finds her voice, screaming in absolute horror as she lunges forward to shield Lyria.“Who the hell do you think you are to touch her?! Guards! Traitor! Someone kill this Omega!”The wood choppers lift their iron axes, their faces flushed with aggressive pack loyalty as they take a step toward Cassian.My survival instincts kick in before my brain can even process the danger.If Cassian gets hurt, if he fights back and kills these people, or if he decides to back out of our arrangement and leave this pack, my system contract is completely void.If the distance between me and the Royal Messenger exceeds thirty meters while my system is corrupted, my internal organs will liquefy.I cannot let them touch him.I step forward, aggressively raising my right hand, thrusting my fragile body directly in front of Cassian’s massive frame to shield him from the advancing warriors.“Stand the fuck down!” I snap, my
MINTHEHe Can Do That?* * *Thud.Thud.Thud.The sound is entirely merciless.I stand frozen at the entrance of the hedge row, my breath catching in my throat as the biting scent of fresh pine sap and damp earth fills my lungs.Every blow of the iron axes is a blade carving into my own ribs.They are destroying it.They are systematically smashing three years of my life into unrecognizable kindling.Right in the center of the clearing, Lyria stands with her wide, doe-like eyes swimming in a sudden, dramatic rush of tears.Her lower lip trembles with theatrical perfection, her small hands clutching at her chest as she takes a frantic, stumbling step backward into the crushed mud.She looks at me as if I am a monster that just crawled out of the dark to slaughter her where she stands.“Please . . . please, I didn’t know you were t-there . . . Pierre told me that I can put the flowers in this garden . . . I-I’m sorry about your little wooden . . . things.”I can’t breathe.I literally
MINTHEThe Garden of the Past* * *We go through the winding, twisting stone paths of the outer grounds, moving far away from the noisy main packhouse and toward the secluded eastern ridge of the estate.This is my place.A small, hidden garden sanctuary enclosed by towering, thick evergreen hedges that completely block out the rest of the world.Over the last three years, when the overwhelming loneliness of being a modern soul trapped in a medieval fantasy novel became too heavy to bear, I came here.With no internet, no smartphones, no electricity, and nothing but dry, boring historical texts about werewolf lineages to read, the boredom had been an actual, physical ache in my chest.So, I took up a hobby.I spent hundreds of lonely hours with a small iron carving knife and blocks of scrap oak wood, meticulously recreating the things I missed from home.It was stupid, pathetic even, but it was the only thing that kept me sane.I carved little wooden replicas of things I used to take
MINTHEThe Novel* * *My stomach twists so hard I press a hand against it. The room suddenly feels too warm despite the rain outside. The fire crackles softly near the windows, shadows moving across the stone walls and expensive furniture I picked myself when we rebuilt this place together.Goddes
MINTHEA Book Character* * *The ceremonial blade is still spinning on the marble when I realize nobody is coming after him.The metallic clang keeps echoing through the hall in uneven rings, scraping against my skull while blood slides slowly down my wrist and drips onto white silk. One dro
MINTHEThe Last Delusion* * *Pierre tilts his head slightly. “You ask all men to become your mate this way?”“I usually bring flowers first.”His thumb shifts against my waist.Tiny movement.Tiny.But my pulse absolutely humiliates me over it.“You’re nervous,” he says quietly.“Obviously.”
MINTHEModern 2026* * *"FUCK THAT VILLAINESS!"The comments under the chapter are what finally piss me off.“Oh my God, Pierre deserves better but the Alpha King and Lyria are soulmates”“I’d choose Hades too.”“Minthe deserved to die anyway! Good riddance.”I stare at my phone screen in the dark







