Devotion Countdown Short Stories & Novels

I’ve been in love with the Don of the Moretti family for ten years, and everyone knows he loves me more than life itself. In seven days, he’s throwing me a massive, grand wedding that will be live-streamed to the entire world. But I’m the only one who knows the truth: he’s been keeping a mistress behind my back. He’s kept her for two whole years, and he’s lied to my face for just as long. I didn't call him out on it. Instead, I planned a fake death. At our wedding in seven days, he’s going to lose me forever.

“I’ve made up my mind, I’m going to leave the Emersons and move overseas to live with you.” Cecil Miller’s aunt, Dianne Miller, was thrilled to hear this. She then thoughtfully advised Cecil. “Alright, Cecil, I'll help you with the immigration right away. It will take about a month so you should use this time to get together with your friends since it’s not very likely you’ll see them again once you come to Vinland. Make sure you say your goodbyes. “Don’t forget Cleo especially. He raised you since you were a kid, so you should thank him for everything he’s done for you.” Cecil gave Dianne her word. After hanging up, she left the balcony. As she was heading to the living room, she caught herself sneaking a glance at the picture set on the table.

Five years ago, on our third anniversary, I rejected Matteo's proposal in front of the entire syndicate. I pointed at my stomach. I sneered at the man who used to worship the ground I walked on: "Don't be naive, Matteo. You're just a stray dog from the gutter. I'm carrying the rival boss's heir." It poured that night. He was shattered. He walked away from everything. Five years later, he climbed over a mountain of bodies. He ruled North America as the new Don. He returned to New York and bought out every single debt my family owed. Then, he brought his pregnant fiancée along and kicked down the rusted door to my run-down apartment. He looked down at me with cold eyes. "What's wrong, Princess? Hiding out in a dump like this now?" He had no idea. My body was already in the final stages of transplant rejection. Every single day I stayed alive was just to see his face one last time before I died.

I was having my lunch break when someone anonymously messaged my relationship consultation account. "The system has decided that I only have seven days before my task's deadline is up. What can I do to keep my wife from dying with me before the world itself kills me?" The text continued, "Will it work if I pretend that I cheated on her to make her hate me?" The comments below were filled with mockery. "God, tell your clickbait elsewhere. You're just going to get your arse kicked here." "Geez, grow some balls and just say you want to get rid of your wife. The world's going to kill you? I swear, these scumbags are getting more creative with their excuses." I was a relationship-based content creator who had made it really big, so a bit like this was not all that strange to me at all. I sneered and answered the question, "Cheating's a total cliche. If you want to kill every bit of love she has for you, destroy the memories she holds close to her heart, deny everything she's ever done for you, and make her think she's a complete joke." I continued, "If you want her to shed not a single tear after you die, you have to drench her very soul in hatred." The guy answered immediately, "Thank you. It's going to break my heart, but I'll have to do this." When I got home that night, my husband, who thought of me as his whole world, tossed our photo album into a brazier. That album had been with us for 10 years, and it was a record of our romantic moments. I stared at his face, but his expression was colder than any winter wind, and my heart nearly stopped beating right then and there.

Seven years ago, I turned my back on my powerless fated mate, Soren, and chose a powerful Alpha instead. Now, I’m dying alone in this shitty apartment with seven days to live. The Moon's Glow is fading inside me. Without the Final Rite, my soul will be chained to this earth, a ghost doomed to an eternity of torment. And no Alpha will perform it for me. Coughing up another mouthful of blood, I dialed the one number I swore I’d never touch again. Soren. The mate I rejected. Now, the most powerful Alpha in the North. I begged him for the Final Rite. Moments later, his engine screamed down my street. But the boy I once knew was gone. The man staring back at me now held nothing but pure, undiluted hatred in his eyes. "Well, well. Look what we have here," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "The fallen princess. When are you going to finally drop dead? The second your heart stops, I’m dumping your corpse in the Feral Lands for the scavengers."

Adrian Blackwood’s dominant Alpha scent still clung to the room. My legs hadn’t stopped trembling, and the wolf inside me was letting out soft whimpers after the intimacy we’d just lost control of. The next second, Adrian caught my chin in his hand and pressed a white pill onto the back of my tongue. “Swallow.” I didn’t fight him. Once he was satisfied, he picked up his phone and called another she-wolf right in front of me. “Vivian, get ready.” “I’m taking you to the Moon Goddess Gala tonight.” When the door shut behind him, the mate mark over my heart felt as though it had been torn open. I was the fated mate chosen for Adrian by the Moon Goddess when he turned eighteen. I was also the Luna of the Silverpine Pack—at least in name. Yet my own Alpha had spent years making sure I would never bear his heir. All because, eight years ago, he discovered the agreement the former Luna had forced me to sign. If I gave birth to an heir within one year, I would receive a one-hundred-million-dollar family trust. If I gave birth within three years, the trust would be reduced to fifty million. If I still failed to produce an heir after seven years, I would no longer have the right to interfere with the Alpha’s public involvement with other she-wolves. With bloodshot eyes, Adrian had demanded, “Elena Vale, when you accepted my mate mark, was it because you loved me—or because you wanted the Blackwood fortune?” From that day on, he began parading different she-wolves in front of me. He forced me to feel jealous. Forced me to admit that I loved him. What he never knew was that the agreement had a second page. If we remained childless at the end of eight years, either party could terminate both the legal marriage and the Luna bond. Today marked exactly eight years.

When Selena Sloane takes her assistant, Preston Jones, to the hospital in order to get his lower back checked out, her 18-year-old self is in the middle of making out with me while having me pinned against the wall. "Darling, how is it that you smell so good and your kisses are still this amazing despite being 30 years old? Oh, I love you so much, darling! "By the way, where did my 30-year-old self go? Why isn't she here to pick you up after work?" I push Young Selena off me sadly. That's when I happen to meet the 30-year-old Selena's icy gaze. "You already have a mistress of your own, and yet you still can't bear to get a divorce from me, hmm? Zack Holt, you really are pathetic." As I watch the older Selena supporting Preston and walking away, the younger Selena starts kicking up a fuss in my arms once again. "That idiot! How dare she speak to my darling so arrogantly? Why, I might as well kill myself right now so that she'll disappear from this world as well!"

Sepharine cared for Draven, the crippled son of an Alpha, for three long years. After painstakingly helping him regain his strength, he scorned her—for she was merely a lowly maid, unworthy of an Alpha's heir. Heartbroken, Sepharine left the pack. Only after losing her did Draven realize the depth of his feelings for her.

For four years, I was in a secret relationship with Luke Collins. Even his closest friends had no clue. But everything changed when his first love returned. His friends started betting on when he'd break up with his girlfriend. "Right now." I blurted out. I knew because I was about to walk into an arranged marriage with someone else.