Scp 990

In the three years since I became Zander's mate, I've tried to kill myself ninety-nine times. Kidnapped by a rival pack in my youth, years of torture nearly destroyed me. I clawed my way back to the Crescent Moon Pack, only to find my place had been taken by an adopted daughter, Vivian. My Beta parents doted on her, and my fated mate—the Alpha himself—had eyes only for her. I begged them, told them my kidnapping and my suicide attempts weren't accidents, but all I ever heard was: "Ember, you're delusional. You just wandered off and got lost." "You tried to drown yourself in the river." The people closest to me, and not one of them believed me. Until the ninety-ninth time. Another "suicide." When I woke up three days later, I rubbed my aching head. My eyes were vacant, my own gaze foreign to me. I had forgotten who I was, forgotten the humiliation I'd endured, forgotten the desperate girl who had thrown away her dignity for a scrap of her Alpha's affection. At the pack ceremony, while everyone waited for me to fawn pathetically over Zander, a single tear slid down my cheek for reasons I couldn't comprehend. I wiped it away and, under the shocked stares of the entire pack, announced calmly: "Zander," my voice was steady. "I don't love you anymore. So I, Ember of the Crescent Moon Pack, hereby reject you as my mate." "This little act again?" Zander sneered, his eyes glinting with the same casual contempt they always held for me. But he didn't know. This time, I was leaving him for good. It wasn't until I vanished completely that the ones who'd never believed me were the ones who truly went mad.

Mom and I board a flight to Fangoria to visit Alicia Carter, my wife. She's a special forces soldier who's here on a peacekeeping mission in this foreign country. But the moment we walk out of the airport, we're ambushed by a group of kidnappers. One of them holds a gun to Mom's head and says, "If you don't give us the ransom in three days, we'll blow her head off!" In a panic, I make a video call to Alicia, my hands shaking as I beg her to help me. "Calm down, honey. I'll put in a request to lead a rescue mission. We'll save her within 24 hours!" But the next day, I keep failing to get in touch with Alicia. After I blow up her phone with multiple calls, one finally connects. Amid her rushed panting, she tells me, "Sorry, honey. I just got assigned to an urgent escort mission. You guys just hang in there. I've arranged for the local authorities to—" Her voice is abruptly cut off by a familiar male voice. "Alicia! Thank goodness you came over just to pick me up. I didn't have to spend 100 dollars on a cab after all! That cab driver didn't even have a license, and I can't believe he tried to ask for more money…" The three-day deadline passes, and the kidnappers keep their word, letting me hear the gunshot myself. As I clutch Mom's cold, dead body, Alicia calls me out of nowhere. "Hey, honey. I just completed the escort mission. How are things on your end? Have the kidnappers released her?" I look down at Mom. Her eyes will never open again. I gently wipe the blood off her face as I reply to Alicia in an eerily calm voice, "Yeah. They have."

I had regressed ninety-nine times, and it all started because I brought home an injured man. Every time I came back, strange floating comments appeared in front of my eyes. I could also hear my baby brother's thoughts. The moment my brother saw Tristan Price, he screamed and refused to stop crying. "Send that man back! He's going to get our whole family killed!" I reached out hesitatingly toward Tristan, and the chat overlay flickered to life again. [The man lying in your bed is your future husband and the prince regent. He never forgets a kindness. Save him, and he will make you his princess consort. Your entire family will be protected and well provided for.] The first time, I followed my heart and did what the messages told me to do. I saved Tristan, and he used me as a human shield. The assassins hunting him found us, and my entire family was slaughtered. The second time, I listened to my brother instead and sent Tristan back where I found him. His men came to our door anyway, accused me of leaving him to die, and killed everyone. The third time, I found Tristan's closest aide before the assassins arrived and quietly handed Tristan over. Then Tristan went mad without warning and stabbed me himself. When my family tried to avenge me, they were killed too. I tried every approach I could think of to avoid my family's tragic fate, and every single one ended in failure. This time, I chose to wait for death. Then the comments appeared again, and something about them caught my eye.

A year ago, a witch planted a curse on me. Afflicted with the Silver Moon disease, my life hung by a thread. At the risk of his life, Sebastian Garland, the Alpha and my boyfriend at the time, ventured into the deadly Dark Woods. He suffered for 99 days, braving countless dangers, just to bring back the antidote that could save my life. From that moment onward, I swore that no matter what kind of mistake he made, I would forgive him 99 times. Soon after my vow takes effect, Sebastian betrays me. He starts bringing back countless lovers to our home. "This is the reality of being a Luna. You should get used to it," he says to me. On the anniversary of our relationship, he brings back another lover. "Cassandra, Isabella doesn't have a gown she can wear to the party. Give her the one you wore on your wedding day," Sebastian heartlessly orders me. Despite believing that I've grown numb, when I hear those words, my heart still feels like it has been ripped apart. My voice trembles with rage as I cry out, "You can't keep hurting me however you like just because you think I'll bear with it! I won't put up with this forever. I'll break my bond with you!" All of the werewolves in the pack laugh hysterically, as if they have just been told the most ridiculous joke in the world. Sebastian's repeated humiliation of me has left me without a shred of dignity as his Luna. No one believes me. While eyeing me derisively, Sebastian says, "I'm sick of hearing that. It's even more nauseating than the moans you make in bed!" I close my eyes, allowing my tears to fall. This is the 96th time. Once he uses up all of his chances, it'll be the day I'll finally be free.

A hell-recycle world within the modern world, designed for death or near-death individuals. With the greenhouse effect resulting in instability in hell, access to hell becomes restricted, and the game keeps the new souls busy while offering them a second chance to return to their lives before death, depending on their performance. A six-digit cash prize is awarded to the winning participants, with rewards ranging from reversed choices and time manipulation to wealth and more. The 100 Doors Challenge System was designed purposely for this world, to keep the growing audience (already existing souls) entertained. Chosen participants must die beautifully at each door. The fancier and more tragic the death, the higher the views. The story alternates between real-world broadcast control rooms, digital death arenas, and fragmented dreamlike worlds designed from Author Willa’s traumas, fears, and regrets and those of the participating ghosts. 100 Doors: Die Fabulously for the Audience. This story contains graphic adult themes, including explicit sexual content, psychological tension, dark humour, trauma, and scenes of coercion and moral ambiguity. It explores mature, disturbing, and emotionally intense situations within a fantasy-system setting. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

"You’re worth five million dollars, Vespera. Don't make me regret not selling you to the labs." My father didn't look at me like a daughter. He looked at me like a bad investment. As a 'Dud' born into a Royal Shifter line, I was a freak, a wolf-less servant who scrubbed the floors of the packhouse while my sister prepared to lead. But when my grandmother’s heart started failing and the hospital threatened to dump her on the street, I ran out of options. I signed the paper. Ninety-nine days. One child. No names. No light. The man who bought me lives in a fortress of concrete and silence. He is a billionaire who never shows his face, a shadow that only comes to me in the dead of night. They say he’s a monster. They say he’s deformed. But when Killian finally touches me in the dark, his skin doesn't feel like a monster's. It feels like a furnace—a scorching, electric heat that makes my dormant blood scream for the first time in nineteen years. The truth is much worse than the rumors. Killian is the Lycan King—the same God my former pack kneels to every Sunday. He doesn't want an heir. He’s dying from a feral rot that’s eating his mind, and my 'useless' human blood is the only thing that stops the screaming in his head. My parents think they sold a broken girl to pay a debt. My ex-mate, Alpha Jax, thinks he rejected a nobody. But as the life inside me begins to howl, I realized that I’m not a Dud. I’m a Moon-Healer. And King Killian isn't going to let his medicine walk away when the ninety-nine days are up.