Cerita Pendek & Novel Countdown

I was about to toast him. My mate. Alpha Ryker. That’s when he announced it. Our mating ceremony was being postponed. Again. To the next full moon. I took a slow sip of my wine, letting the red burn its way down my throat. “Okay.” He glanced at me, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “You’re… not mad?” I swirled the wine in my glass. My voice was flat. “No. I’m not mad.” We’d known we were mates for a year. This was the 17th time he had postponed our final bonding. We were both used to it. I drained my glass and stood up to go upstairs. As I passed him, he grabbed me, pulling me into his arms. The possessive scent of an Alpha wrapped around me instantly. “Aurora, I swear I will officially mark you in front of the pack at the next full moon. You’re already mine. The whole pack knows it. What’s a few more days?” “Trust me. I won’t break my promise this time.” I looked down at his hand on my waist, then back up at his face. I leaned into his chest with a small smile. “Okay.” In the last year, he’d said “next week” nine times. He’d said “I swear” thirteen times. He’d said “trust me” sixteen times. But the ceremony that would finally bond our souls and bodies never happened. And it wouldn’t happen next month, either. Because this time, it was my turn to break the promise.

On the night of my anniversary with Lawson, I found transfers on his phone that I did not recognize. The recipient of the money was his old flame. For a decade, he had sent her more than a hundred thousand dollars on the fifteenth of every month. I showed him the records and demanded an explanation. He was signing documents and nonchalantly said, "She was once pregnant with my pup, but she lost it because of a pack conflict. I owe her that much. Don't worry. Other than this, I won't give her any resources from the pack as compensation." I cried, argued, and went to my friends to vent. They tried to talk me down. "It's only a few hundred thousand dollars. Lawson is the Alpha of the largest pack. Even if he gave you that amount, you would think it was too little." "You'll be his Luna. The most important thing is to protect your status. Are you really going to lose your composure over an ex?" I thought about the bonding ceremony we were supposed to hold at the Full Moon Festival next month, and about the decade Lawson and I had spent together. So, I gave in. Then I discovered that every noon, the housekeeper would prepare a pup's meal and send it to Lawson's office. I stopped her with a frown and asked what was going on. The housekeeper was stunned. "Miss Monica, wasn't this prepared for your pup? That pup is already six. Every time he sees the Alpha, he calls him Dad."

I was born able to see the colors of the bonds between wolves. The deeper the love, the closer the link came to crimson. When a heart began to waver, it faded to pale pink. When only habit and responsibility remained, it turned gray-white. When I was seven, my father brought another woman home, saying she only needed our pack’s temporary protection. From that day on, the link between him and my mother grew dimmer. My mother’s wolf fell silent, and her health deteriorated. The day she died, the light connecting them vanished. Years later, my brother marked his longtime girlfriend and formed a mate bond with her. Yet the light on his side was only pale pink. I warned him not to promise her forever if he did not love her. He insisted he would honor their bond and care for his mate. Less than six months later, he found another woman. After seeing so many links fade, I knew my gift never lied. I wanted someone who would keep choosing me, no matter how many years passed. Then I met Rhys Calder. He was the youngest head of security in the Greybridge Pack and a former border operative. Everyone said he was cold and exacting, a man who never allowed anyone close. Yet the first time we met, the link extending from him to me burned a brilliant red. After that, he picked me up from work every day, waited two hours for me in a storm, and once drove across half of Greybridge just to bring me flowers. Eventually, I accepted him. For seven years after we formed our mate bond, that link remained deep red. Rhys remembered that I loved the almond croissants from the bakery on the corner. He decorated the terrace himself on my birthdays. Every time he left Greybridge on an assignment, he brought gifts home for Jamie and me. I thought I had finally found the love I wanted. Then Rhys returned from a mission two weeks ago. When I helped him out of his coat, an unfamiliar rose scent clung to the fabric. At that moment, the link extending from him to me seemed to dim.

In my third year after joining the werewolf guard, I single-handedly cut off the rogues' supply line during a raid. For my actions, the chairman of the werewolf council awarded me a Silver Moon Insignia and granted me the right to live in a four-bedroom penthouse apartment at Moonshadow Estate. Mom once told me that if we ever moved into a bigger home, she would give me a bedroom that belonged to me alone. On the night all the furniture was moved in, I searched every one of the four bedrooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace of me in any of them. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. My older sister, Kalista, had taken the sunniest south-facing suite. My younger brother, Keane, had a room filled with newly purchased combat manuals and an entire wall of cabinets for his hunting boots. The remaining bedroom had been turned into Kalista's walk-in closet, and all my luggage had been piled outside the bathroom. I asked Mom, "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She froze for a moment before pointing at the brand-new sofa in the living room. "You're usually out on night patrol and hardly ever come home. If you occasionally stay the night, isn't the sofa good enough?" Dad frowned as well. "Family members should be considerate of one another. Although the pack rewarded you with this apartment, it belongs to the whole family too. Be generous. Don't start fighting over rooms the moment we move in." I lowered my head and looked at the insignia in my hand. Suddenly, I laughed. So the large home I had risked my life to earn had room for Kalista's clothes, Keane's equipment, and my parents' pride. But somehow, there was no room for me. That night, I received an encrypted message from the captain of the guard. [Outpost 3 on the northern frontier urgently needs a werewolf guard willing to serve there long-term. The assignment involves three years of closed rotation under harsh conditions, but each guard will be provided with private quarters.] I looked up at the four closed doors and quietly typed two words in reply. [I'm going.] If there was no place for me here, then I would go somewhere that had reserved a place for me.

I used to be the beloved little princess of the Colobo family. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, my father brought home Sophia. She was the daughter of the old friend who had once saved his life. Out of guilt, he gave her a place in our home. Then he gave her my place too. My brother began protecting her and hating me. My childhood friend, Luca Rizzo, fell for her and left me behind. Even my father said Sophia deserved the Colobo name more than I did, though I was his biological daughter. On the day I graduated from college, they broke their promise to me for the ninety-ninth time because of her. I finally lost control. “Am I not your own daughter?” My father pulled Sophia behind him as if I were the danger, then slapped me across the face. “You jealous little thing. I should have given everything to her instead.” My brother looked at me like I was something dirty. “You don’t deserve a place in the Colobo family. Get out.” So I left. They thought I was only throwing another tantrum. They took Sophia to Switzerland to see the snow-covered mountains, certain that silence would teach me to behave. They thought I would calm down, come home, and beg for my place again. But this time, I called the research institute in Australia whose offer I had once turned down for them. “I accept,” I said. By the time the Colobo family realized I was truly gone, my phone number no longer existed. And so did Isabella Colobo.

My husband, Dante, is the most untouchable Don of the Vance family in New York. He has one unbreakable rule: After 9 p.m., if he's out on family business, he does not take calls. I understood his devotion to the family, so for five years, I did my best never to disturb him. Until last night, when I was driving alone past the docks and walked straight into an ambush by a rival family's armed men. In a panic, I called Dante, begging him to save me. The phone rang for what felt like forever. When he finally picked up, his voice was ice-cold: "Nora, we've been married a long time. As the Donna of the Vance family, you should know the rules." Then he hung up. That night, I barely escaped the hail of bullets by the skin of my teeth. I spent the night in the hospital. But when I came home the next morning, all I got was a reproachful look. He accused me of interrupting a critical family shipment deal—and of sending a fake distress signal. I knew how hard he worked, so I swallowed my hurt. But later, when I used his computer, I accidentally saw his call log. One contact had been calling him almost every single night—always after nine. For five full years. I knew that number. It belonged to Alexa, the Vance family's Capo. The woman everyone in the family had agreed, for all these years, was the one truly fit to stand beside Dante. In that moment, every ounce of suppressed hurt came flooding back. After I calmed myself, I picked up my phone and found an invitation I'd received a few days ago—to an international art exhibition. And I clicked "Accept." In three days, I would disappear from his world completely.

In my third year at the front as a military doctor, a bomb dropped from an aircraft struck our makeshift medical station. I ran desperately toward the military vehicle outside, trying to find my fiancé, Robert. Then I saw him barreling toward the medical station through the incoming fire. Tears immediately filled my eyes. But when he was barely fifteen feet away, he suddenly swerved and drove straight past me. He was heading toward Nora. He threw open the door, reached out, and pulled Nora from the ground into the vehicle before wrapping his arms tightly around her. He looked straight through me, even though I had been standing directly in his path only moments earlier. Someone shouted hoarsely, “Run! The second shell is coming—” The warning was swallowed by the explosion. Robert turned his head. Our eyes met. For the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes. The next moment, the shock wave hurled me through the air. When I slammed into the ground, the last thing I saw was a single tear sliding down the face of Lieutenant Robert, the hardened soldier known for never showing weakness. Yet his first instinct was still to step on the accelerator and drive Nora toward safety. As blood ran into my eyes and blurred my vision, memories from the past three years flashed through my mind. If I lived to see tomorrow’s sunrise, Robert could go his way, and I would go mine. Our paths would never cross again.

A witch prophesied that the stronger I became, the closer my twin sister, Elara, would come to death. To save her, my parents suppressed my wolf spirit for eighteen years. They forced me to hide my gifts and apologize for every success. The werewolf academy selection trial at eighteen was my only chance to escape this family. But on the day of the trial, they confiscated my token and locked me inside the winter store behind a silver door. “You know Elara could die because of you, and you still want to take the trial?” The silver walls suppressed my wolf spirit, leaving me helpless as the room grew steadily colder. I pounded on the door and begged for help. Mother replied coldly, “Stop pretending. The cooling system isn’t even on.” At that moment, I finally understood. As they left with Elara, the truth became clear. No matter how many times I gave in, they would always demand one more sacrifice. Blood ran from my forehead and slowly froze against my training uniform. I curled up in the darkness and stopped pounding on the door. They thought destroying my future would save Elara. When they returned, Elara was still alive. I was already dead.

We'd planned a dream elopement photoshoot in Montana, but just before the trip, I came down with a severe case of acute gastroenteritis. My fiancé, Wallace Romano, looked at me with concern. "Then we'll all stay home. What's the point of going without our leading lady?" My best friend, Wallace's younger sister, and the rest of our friends all agreed. I thought I'd found my fairy-tale romance and a circle of friends who would stand by me for life. Then, while borrowing Wallace's tablet to watch a show, I accidentally opened a shared cloud album. The latest photo showed Wallace passionately kissing his ex-girlfriend, Emma Berry, beneath enormous flags in the Alps. All the friends who'd insisted they couldn't enjoy the trip without me were right there, cheering them on. "Wallace and Emma finally got their happy ending. Talk about a perfect romantic finale." "Without Miley around to ruin the mood, Emma has been so much happier." "She probably still thinks we're all staying home. We didn't even book her a plane ticket. Emma's the one who got one." "And that stomach bug? Apparently, Wallace left a glass of juice sitting out for two days just so she'd drink it." Their familiar voices washed over me, and my blood ran cold. If I wasn't the leading lady in Wallace's love story, it was time for me to find a leading man of my own.

I was a mermaid fostered within the Silverwood Pack. By the laws of my kin, on the day I came of age, I had to swallow a Tide Pearl fed to me by a male. Only then could I fully shed my tail and truly join the wolf pack, remaining on land. And whoever fed me the pearl would become my mate. Miss that window, and my legs would turn back into a tail, forcing me to return to the deep sea. Before my mother died, she left behind three Tide Pearls, entrusting them to the three wolf boys I grew up with—each desperate to become my mate. But just as I was about to come of age, a lone wolf mother named Chloe arrived at the pack with her young pup, Leo. Alpha Lucas, Beta Kane, and Gamma Aiden became convinced that Chloe was the widow of the wolf who had saved their lives, and they showered mother and son with care. They knew full well what the Tide Pearls meant to me—yet choice after choice, they handed those pearls over to Chloe and her child, one by one. Their protection of Chloe was built on my sacrifice. With every pearl gone, I had no reason left to stay in the pack. At midnight on my coming-of-age day, the tide surged over the cliffs. I returned to the sea.

My parents, Dennis and Sandra Ford, always said the wiring in our old house was too outdated to power more than three air conditioners. My sister, Beth Ford, practiced her violin in her room all day, so she needed one. My brother, Monty Ford, had been sickly since he was little and couldn't stand even a little heat, so he needed one too. The last unit went to the master bedroom. I didn't say anything. I stuck to my old, creaking fan and got through twenty-two stifling summers in Battisata City. I thought that if I stayed quiet enough, obedient enough, my family would eventually notice me. Then came the day I borrowed Monty's air-conditioned room for the final online interview at a major company. Right in the middle of it, the door kept swinging open. Beth's singing drifted in from the living room, and my dad poked his head in for the fourth time. "Still not done? Don't forget to make your brother his honey-glazed fish tonight." The interviewer on the screen frowned. "Sorry, we don't need employees with an attitude problem." The second the screen went dark, I sat frozen in my chair, cold sweat soaking the hair at my forehead. "Hurry to the market once you're finished. The fish won't be fresh if you wait too long." Their nagging kept going, and that was the moment it hit me. What I'd lost over the years wasn't just a working air conditioner or a hard-won job. It was my entire family.

When Cora Shepard's husband's first love, Kimberly Hayes, came back, her first move was to make Cora sign a wager. The terms were simple. If George Lambert abandoned Cora nine times for her, Cora would give up her place as Mrs. Lambert. Cora agreed.

That winter, our whole family went skiing in Aespen, Amestia. It was a popular spot for werewolf nobles and the wealthy. Then, the avalanche struck. My father's first instinct was to scoop up Summer—his sleeping adopted daughter—and flee. My mother, panicked, still made sure to grab the stray puppy Summer had found. They returned to the Moonshadow Pack that same night, posting a flood of photos online and rejoicing over their miraculous escape. Not one of them remembered me. Their biological daughter was still buried beneath the snow, waiting for rescue. When I was finally rescued, I did not look back. I took my mentor's offer to study abroad and left the pack behind. I moved to Cascade City to study medicine. No more pleading, no more shrinking myself in hopes of earning back my family's love. Yet they only seemed more disgruntled. "Rose, why aren't you competing with Summer for our attention anymore?"

"Mrs. Blackwood, everything has been arranged for the identity-erasure operation you commissioned. This is the final agreement. Please sign here." I lowered my eyes to the document that had been placed in front of me. Client: Elena Blackwood Execution Plan: Explosion at a harbor warehouse. Vehicle destroyed by fire. Death confirmed through DNA identification. Execution Date: One week from today. One week later would be the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Damian Blackwood. It would also be the day I disappeared from the Blackwood family forever. Our story began on that date. And it would end on that date as well.

My Alpha fiancé, Evan Hillard, wants me to get a crescent moon tattooed on the side of my neck. "At the marking ceremony seven days from now, I'll leave my bite right here," he says. I lower my head without answering. For three years, our marking ceremony has been postponed again and again as I try to become the perfect mate he wants. He likes golden-brown fur, so every two weeks, I endure the burning pain of dyeing mine. He says a red beauty mark near the corner of the eye looks stunning, so I let a witch doctor tattoo one there with a fine needle. Then I accidentally see a message on his phone from his first love, Vera Dawson. "Can you have her get the same crescent moon tattoo as mine?" she asks. "That way, you can pretend I'm the one you mark." My hands turn ice-cold. Trembling, I tap her profile picture. She has golden-brown fur, a red beauty mark near the corner of the eye, and a crescent moon on her neck. Everything becomes clear. All the pain I've endured over the past three years has been for nothing. I'm just a cheap imitation, molded in the image of the woman he truly loves. I don't cry. I calmly exit the chat and reply to the Healers' Association. "I accept the job offer. I'll report for duty in seven days."

For the five years I was married to my mafia husband, Dante, I never once showed my face to the Moretti family. I thought it was Dante’s way of protecting me. Until a family meeting record landed in my hands by mistake. It said Dante Moretti had formally married Gianna Romano. The date was five years ago. When I saw that name, I froze. She was Dante’s most trusted capo. She’d saved his life. She was also in love with him. Five years ago, she’d been against Dante marrying me. While I was performing on stage, she deliberately sent a spotlight crashing down and destroyed my career as a pianist. Afterward, she cried and said she hadn’t meant to. Dante believed her. He couldn’t send her to prison, but he swore that from then on, he’d never let Gianna appear in front of me again. I didn’t trust Gianna, but I trusted Dante. Now I’d found out that on the very day my husband made that promise to me, he married her. I clutched that thin sheet of paper as the warmth slowly drained from my body. I didn’t go into hysterics or demand answers. Instead, I took out my phone and opened an email I’d received three days earlier—an invitation from the Aurellian Ministry of Culture to apply for citizenship through its exceptional talent program. I tapped “Accept.” Seven days from now, my name would vanish from this country without a trace.

Everyone knew Andre Marino as the Don who kept business separate from his personal life. I couldn't call him unless it was business. If someone wronged me, I couldn't ask him to step in. We'd been together for five years. He'd taken a bullet for me. When we were trapped with no way out, he'd given up his chance at rescue so I could get out. He'd done everything a man could do for someone he trusted with his life. But I couldn't walk in and out of his study as I pleased. Every time I needed him, I had to wait outside the door for a long time. Andre said the study was his private space, and he had to keep things above board. I had to wait at the door for a full hour so everyone could see he wasn't playing favorites. Only then could I knock and go in. Then one day, I came back from picking up a shipment and stood outside his study, waiting to report in. The wind had turned my nose bright red. His second-in-command, Nora Russo, walked straight in, wearing his trench coat. She glanced back at me and said casually, "Annie, don't blame the Don for not letting you come and go as you please. He's big on rules. Business is business. Personal matters stay out of it." "Then why can you come and go?" I demanded. Nora twisted her family signet ring on her ring finger, a knowing look in her eyes. "Our families go way back. We've always been allies, always fought side by side. He's even got my last name tattooed on his chest." One of the men behind me gave a fake cough. She scoffed. "What? Am I wrong? She has no say in the business, and on the personal side, she can't even get through his door. Other than taking care of Andre's needs in bed, what good is she?" The door opened. It was obvious Nora had made herself at home. Pink, the color he hated most, now covered every wall. I stood frozen for a long time. Then, slowly, I let the question drop. If he couldn't give me the love I wanted, I knew what to do. I'd go to the man who was willing to make an exception for me.

I can see how much time people have left to live, so I warn my wife, Kayla Jebb, that her first love, Sebastian Miller, is about to die. She calls me a jinx and knocks my teeth out herself, making sure I'll never speak again. With my mouth full of rotting flesh, I beg her to help me, but she walks away, satisfied with the outcome. Instead, she heads to the hospital to take care of a sickly Sebastian. A month later, Kayla returns to the villa with a fully recovered Sebastian, as if to prove how foolish I was. When I see that Kayla has only one day left to live, I say nothing and simply smile.

After I discovered that my Mafia husband, Don Dante Amato, still couldn't let go of his first love, Bianca, and the son she had with another man, I taught our son to call him "Don Amato." When our son came down with a fever, Bianca called my husband away in the middle of the night. I stroked his burning forehead and taught him to say, "Goodbye, Don Amato." Dante had promised to present our son to the whole Amato Family at a family dinner — to formally announce him as the future heir. Yet on the night of the dinner, Bianca called, crying that her own son had no father by his side. Dante left without a second thought. I didn't argue. I just had our son stand in front of the entire Family and explain, "Don Amato has someone more important to take care of." It wasn't until Dante finally realized how disappointed we were in him that he suggested we take a family portrait together. Outside the photo studio, Bianca called again, crying for Dante's help. "Dante, the kids at daycare are making fun of Gabe for not having a dad. Can you come pick him up and pretend to be his father?" Dante looked conflicted. He turned to our son, as if about to explain everything. But this time, our son didn't need my reminder. He waved Dante off. "It's okay, Don Amato. Go take care of the other child. Mom and I will manage the family photo just fine."

My husband, Colonel Ronan, swore to protect the wife and son of his fallen comrade. Everyone in Greyhaven admired his devotion. At home, our seven-year-old daughter learned to eat her birthday cake without him. Then her teacher sent home an assignment. [My father is dead. He died at Mara's house. Whenever she calls, he goes to her, and I have to wait until he remembers me.] Ronan came home demanding an explanation, with a birthday present tucked beneath his arm. Our daughter thanked him. "Good evening, Colonel." He wanted me to tell her to call him Dad. Instead, I answered the letter I had kept hidden in my desk. My father, the King of Northmere, had asked me to come home. He wanted me to return to the palace and take my place as the next Queen of Northmere. And Ivy would return with me—not as the daughter everyone had overlooked, but as a princess. In fifteen days, we would leave everything behind and go home to a family that had been waiting for us all along.