What Is The Main Plot Of Dead Meat Book?

I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me—because he didn’t have the balls to do it himself. I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn’t been enough for him, if I’d been stupid for marrying him in the first place. I’m at work one night when he walks inside—the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it’s the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again. I just want him as an anti-depressant—but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he’s hooked. I don’t get much of a say in the matter, and that’s not surprising when I learn why—because he’s the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules—or pay. And now I’m his.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

The day we were meant to be mated, my Alpha, Ford, was ambushed. Silver bullets shredded his car, sending it plunging off a bridge and into the river below. He was pronounced dead. Drowned. I was left pregnant with his heir, shattered by the raw agony of our severed mate bond. Then Ford's twin, Aiden, returned from abroad with his mate, Kyra. His identical face and a scent so similar to my mate's nearly drove me mad. A desperate part of me swore Ford was still alive. I told myself it was just grief. A widow's delusion. Until I overheard a hushed conversation and the horrifying truth slammed into me: the man pretending to be Aiden was Ford. He had faked his death. He'd let his own brother die in his place, all for Kyra—the other woman carrying his child. The grief that had crippled me instantly morphed into a cold, sharp rage. Ford didn't just break our bond; he shattered it. And I would make him pay. I wiped my tears and sent a single message to my brother, Billy, the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack. "Brother, I need a plane crash. He loves faking his death? Fine. Let him feel what it's like to truly lose a mate." Only when the news of my "death" spread did Ford reclaim his name. He knelt for seven days and nights in the ashes of the home we once shared, consumed by a grief of his own making.

On Mom's death anniversary, drug dealers break into the cemetery and take me away. To get revenge on my brother, Zack Smith—a forensic pathologist—they torture me until there isn't even a single uninjured spot left on my body. I hold on for almost three days, barely surviving, until I finally get a chance to call him for help. However, Zack replied, "Why didn't they kill you for good? A jinx like you who killed your own mother shouldn't be allowed to live!" When the drug dealers notice my action, they shatter all of my bones. The next day, a janitor discovers several large bags of human remains in the trash can. Zack painstakingly reassembles my body back together with his own hands—yet he fails to recognize that it's me, his younger sister he always claims to hate. When the drug dealers are finally arrested, he descends into madness.

Seven years ago, Sabrina died. At least, that's what everyone believed. After a devastating accident, the Pack buried the woman who was fated to their future Alpha. Only Sabrina knew the truth. She had faked her death to escape a fate worse than dying, leaving behind the only man she had ever loved. Now she's a struggling waitress in the human world, raising her six-year-old son in secret. Everything changes the night the most feared Alpha walks into her restaurant. Zenith. The man who believes she betrayed him. The man who never attended her funeral. The man who now drags her back to the Pack to answer for her crimes. To him, she is nothing more than the mate who cheated, lied, and abandoned him. To her, every lie she told was meant to protect him. Forced to live beneath the same roof as Zenith and his politically chosen wife, Sabrina must survive a world determined to humiliate her while keeping one life-changing secret hidden at all costs. Because if the truth comes out... It won't just destroy everything Zenith believes about the past. It could awaken a legacy the werewolf world has spent centuries hunting. In a world where love became betrayal, trust became a weapon, and destiny refuses to stay buried... some mates never truly let go.

All Raven Caruso has ever known is blood, bullets, and betrayal. Born into the infamous Caruso crime family, Raven was raised not with dolls or lullabies, but with guns, knives, and a ruthless code of silence. Trained from childhood to be an assassin, she became her father’s most dangerous weapon,and his greatest pride. Jack Caruso doesn’t just want to rule the South. He wants the North, too. But the North belongs to his bitter rival, the Moretti mafia,and standing between Jack and total dominance is one man: Leon Vitali. They call him The Butcher. Cold. Calculated. Lethal. Jack’s solution? A union of blood and power. Raven will marry Leon Vitali. And when she bears his child, the Carusos will strike,wipe out the Vitali bloodline and rule using Ravens child. Raven knows her mission. She's loyal. Deadly. And ready to make her father proud. There’s just one problem. Leon Vitali is supposed to be the enemy. But he’s also devastatingly charming, maddeningly confident, and far more complicated than she expected. With every stolen glance and dangerous kiss, he awakens something in her she doesn’t recognize,something soft. Something real. Now Raven must decide: stay true to her blood... or betray it for love.