Where Is 'He Pushed Me Down The Stairs I Took His Pack' From?

The year I turned sixteen, the water supply of Moonlight Pack was contaminated. A desperate, burning thirst spread through every household. Owen was the one who found me half-dead and carried me home. His parents didn't just open their door to me. They shared what little water and food they had left. Everyone said it was because we were fated mates, destined to be together. But anyone could see the truth. His family loved me from the bottom of their hearts. The year I turned twenty, Owen asked me to be his mate. He gave me a silver dagger he'd forged with his own hands. He said that when he wasn't by my side, this dagger would protect me in his place. That very night, I used it to kill everyone in his family.

During a battle between packs, both my adopted sister Chloe and I were injured. A Rogue tore me apart, leaving me a mangled heap of flesh and blood. My wolf was already fading from my spirit. But my Alpha mate, Damon, ran straight to Chloe. She had nothing more than a scratch on her face. He refused to use his Alpha power to save me, blaming me for the entire disaster. "Elena, if you hadn't slowed us down, none of this would have happened! How could Chloe have gotten hurt?" "You're not worth wasting the pack's resources on." In the end, I was left for dead in the forest, unclaimed and forgotten. And when the truth came out that I had died to save him? That cold-blooded Alpha who rejected me so viciously went insane.

"Who did that to you?" His voice pressed, demanding. But I had to shut him down if I wanted to keep myself together. "If you get to keep things from me, then so do I." “If I find out who he is—if I find him…” “I hope you don’t,” I cut in. “Because I’d rather he was already dead.” “I won't be at peace until you see it for yourself. Either his grave, or his death right in front of you.” He inched closer to me, pulling my chin more and more until our faces were very close. “And remember, Leandra ....” His words sounded like a promise. His breathing was so heavy, so determined. “The moment you watch that bastard die, you’ll see me there too.” *** Being my best friend’s delivery girl isn’t exactly my idea of fun. Usually, it’s annoying. But this time? This time, it led me straight to him. He kissed me—this stranger, so alluring that it made me think of him all the time. The scent of his body, his heavy voice, his pierced grey eyes ... it all stayed with me. Haunted me. Drove me crazy. The problem? He wants nothing to do with me. He keeps his distance, tells me to stay away, says I need to forget him. He says he’s a dangerous man. But how do I forget someone who’s already under my skin? How do I let go of the one man who’s already claimed my heart?

"what do you want from me?" She said she cries hoping to leave her. She struggled to keep him away, but her weak resistance did not work. “I demand what is mine, my little companion.” He answered her, pushing her hard against the wall, putting his face to her neck, sniffing at her scent, while the poor girl, who had been oblivious to his world, cried out for help. But she didn't know that no one would come to save her and face the wrath of the alpha who was fixing her on the wall. I guess it was a mistake to move to a town where secrets are blacker than dark but she didn't have a choice, right?

I should step back. But I don’t. His hand slides to my waist, firm, deliberate. Not asking. Claiming. My stomach tightens, heat curling low, and I feel every inch of him before I even see him. He’s behind me, close enough that I can feel his breath at my neck. My pulse stutters as his fingers trace slow, unhurried circles up my back, and I know I should pull away… but I can’t. His lips brush my neck. Not a kiss yet, just the promise of it. My head tilts back before I can stop myself, back arching like my body is betraying me. Then he speaks. Low, calm, in control “Don’t make a sound.” A shiver runs through me. Not from fear. Not exactly. From… him. He’s in control. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to. And somewhere deep inside, I realize the terrifying truth: I’m letting him have me.

My husband’s childhood friend was trapped in an elevator for half an hour. In his anger, he stuffed me inside a luggage bag and locked me inside. “You’re paying double for all the suffering Grace went through.” My body was forced into a curled-up state. I had a hard time breathing. I cried as I apologized, but all I got was my husband’s cold reproach. “You’re going through the entirety of this punishment. Once you’ve learned your lesson, you’ll behave.” He then locked the luggage bag in the closet. I screamed in despair and struggled to break free. My blood seeped out of the bag and soaked the floor. Five days later, he felt sorry for me and decided to end the punishment. “Let this punishment be a warning for you. This time, I’ll let you go.” Little did he know that my body was already rotting inside the luggage bag.