All Chapters of Dear Ex_Husband, The Lycan Tyrant King Wants Me! : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Katherine Harrington: In the five years I’ve stayed with Sebastian—through ten divorces—I’ve never once had the grand wedding he keeps promising. Actually, no. I’ve never had any wedding with him at all. I stand at the back of the wedding hall, half-hidden in shadow, arms wrapped around myself like I might hold the pieces together if I squeeze hard enough. The air smells of fresh flowers and candle wax. Soft music drifts from somewhere I can’t see. Everyone is smiling. I’m not. They gave me small tasks to keep me occupied. Useful. Invisible. I carried trays of crystal glasses filled with something sparkling, refilled them when they emptied, wiped condensation from the rims so no one would notice my hands shaking. Guests thanked me without really looking. Their eyes slid past like I was furniture. At the front, Sebastian stood tall in a dark suit, Helen beside him in white silk that caught the light every time she moved. Her hand rested lightly on the gentle curve of her b

Tyrant Luciano Zarkov: I was never given a kingdom. I took it. Eight hundred years ago this continent was a graveyard of squabbling packs. I started as nothing—a tyrant rogue with a blade and a wolf that refused to kneel. I gathered the unwanted: rogues, outcasts, wolves whose Alphas had already failed them. We carved our way east, then north, then south. One by one I challenged the seven great Alphas in single combat under the moon. When I won, I drank their blood—not for ritual, but because it tasted like victory. Their packs became my provinces; their loyalty became law, enforced by public executions. And so I built an entire nation: the Vagabond Empire, seven states bound by my will. I arrived in this small, trembling state today because their Alpha begged on his knees. Their young were dying from a fever no healer could break. They claimed my blood—older, stronger, different—could chase the sickness from small bodies. I let them take it. I sat in their narrow medical wing,

Katherine Harrington The first sensation wasn’t pain. It was weight. Crushing, liquid weight, as if my bones had been replaced with wet concrete left to set. My eyelids were sealed—glued by crust and time. When they finally cracked open, white light knifed straight through my skull. I flinched, a pathetic twitch. A sound scraped out of my throat: dry, ragged, not mine. Where…? The question floated, thin as smoke, unanswered. No memories rose to meet it. No faces, no names, no yesterday. Just a vast, echoing hollow where my life should have been. I tried to lift my hand. It trembled an inch off the sheet before collapsing, heavy and useless. Something tugged at the back of it—a thin tube, clear fluid dripping in slow, mechanical rhythm. An IV. Hospital. The word existed, detached, like something read in a book once. But why? How? A steady beep pulsed beside me. Heart monitor. Calm now. Too calm. Some buried instinct whispered it hadn’t always been this way—that the l

Tyrant Luciano Zarkov: The relentless tik—tik—tik of the antique clock carved through the silence, each second a quiet reminder of who owned the time in this room. Alpha Henry—Governor by the Republic’s designation, nothing more—sat rigid at the head of the table. Sweat gathered along his hairline despite the cold. His fingers twitched once against the polished wood before going still again. His Betas and Elders flanked him, but whatever authority they held outside this room had already been stripped away. Here, they were nothing. “Your Majesty…” Henry’s voice faltered, forcing steadiness he didn’t feel. “We’re… grateful for the blood donations to our hospitals. Truly. Lives are being saved because of you.” A pause. “May we know why you requested our presence?” Requested. Not summoned. I let that word sit between us. Then I said nothing. Silence stretched—thick, deliberate. Long enough for discomfort to bloom, for posture to falter, for the illusion of control to crack at t

Katherine Harrington One thing was painfully clear: I was nowhere near royalty. Not even close.The grand hall stretched endlessly around me, its polished floors gleaming beneath towering windows that flooded the space with unforgiving light. Every step I took echoed back like cruel mockery, reminding me just how out of place I was. And I kept failing.“Again.”The instructor’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving. I bit back a groan as I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and felt the weight of three thick books balanced precariously on my head. One apparently wasn’t “challenging enough.” The heels they’d forced me into only made everything worse—whoever invented these torturous things clearly hated women.I took a careful step forward, then another, trying to move with the grace they demanded. My ankles wobbled. The books shifted. I froze, desperately trying to recover my balance, but it was already too late. They tumbled to the floor with a loud, humiliating thud t