Independence Reborn Short Stories & Novels

As the only daughter and sole heir of the Romano family, I was born into a world of blood and gunfire. To protect me, my father handpicked nine boys from our allied families and raised them to take a bullet for me When I came of age, he told me to choose one of them as my fiancé. The man I chose would be groomed to become the future Don and rule beside me. I chose Luca De Santis, the man I had loved for years. But on our wedding day, his childhood sweetheart, Bianca Ricci, threw herself into the sea. In the suicide note she left behind, she accused me of tormenting her for years. Luca believed every word. After he became Don, he used the power my family had placed in his hands to imprison me while I was pregnant. I told him that every accusation in Bianca's letter was a lie. He refused to listen. "She's already dead, and you still can't leave her alone?" Then he locked me in the estate basement for four days and four nights. On the fourth night, I lost our baby on the basement floor. I screamed for help until I had no strength left. No one came. I bled to death alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my father's study on the day he asked me to choose my future husband. This time, Luca De Santis was the first name I crossed off the list.

As purebred humans, my sister Lily and I arrived on the Beastman Continent with the Breeding System, meant to help the beastmen breed and secure their future.. The system offered two talent trees for us to choose from. Lily hated the idea of pregnancy, so she jumped first and picked the low-tier talent: Surrogacy. I got stuck with the high-tier one: Litter of Many. We ended up mated to the wolf alpha and the tiger alpha, respectively. Lily had a wandering heart and secretly slept around with all kinds of beastmen behind closed doors. But she was terrified that getting pregnant would expose her affairs, so she kept using her Surrogacy talent on me. Over and over again, I was forced to birth litter after litter of low-grade beast pups. The whole continent was buzzing with rumors about me—that I'd spread my legs for anyone. My so-called mate, the wolf alpha Tyron wouldn't listen to a word I said. He called me cheap, a slut, a whore. Every time I gave birth, he'd kill the pups. In the end, I was tortured to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the system was activated.

The Blackwood Pack had a rule: no outsider was ever allowed to touch a newborn pureblood pup. So when my fated mate Damon Cross's childhood friend Yvonne Morgan reached for one of their sacred cubs, I stopped her. Yvonne decided I was being petty, that I was trying to humiliate her in front of everyone. So she ran off crying, tripped, and fell into a bog. By the time anyone found her, she was gone. Damon was convinced I'd done it on purpose—that I'd planned to get rid of Yvonne Morgan. He had me bound and locked in that basement dungeon for three days and three nights. Every hour felt like a year. "This is all your fault, you jealous witch. If it weren't for you, Yvonne would still be here!" "You're going to pay for what you did. Rot in there and think about it." I clawed my way out—dug a tunnel with my bare hands. I was so close. The night I finally broke free, Damon gave the order to have me thrown into the No-Man's-Land wolf pit. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. The night of the Full Moon Gala.

On the third day after receiving our college acceptance letters, the most popular student in school, Natalie Simmons, proposes something in our class group chat. "We're all adults now, and we've already been accepted into college. We should do something exciting before the semester begins. Let's put on a show and stage a fake bank heist. It'll be fun." In my last life, I make 23 phone calls in a row and confiscate every prop they plan to use. No one gets hurt. But Natalie becomes the target of criticism from parents and teachers. She sinks into depression and eventually jumps into a lake. The entire class blames me and hates me. At our graduation dinner, they force a whole bottle of liquor down my throat. Then, they say they're taking me to the riverside to sober up. When I wake up, I'm in the river. Water fills my lungs, freezing cold. The news report summed up my life in five words. "Drunk Man Falls Into River." When I open my eyes again, my phone is vibrating. The very first message in the group chat is Natalie's proposal. This time, I don't say anything. I take screenshots and save copies.

I've just gotten back from a business trip when my wife, Lisa Irwin, steps onto the windowsill. She looks at me, tears streaming down her face, and whispers, "I'm so sorry, honey." Then she jumps in front of me. Our three-month-old daughter, Ariah Conner, lies silent in her crib. She's not breathing, and her skin has turned a deep purple. Beside her, our nanny, Aunt Caitlin, lies unconscious with blood pooling from a head wound. The police tell me Lisa was sexually assaulted before she died, and Ariah suffocated. The security cameras were down. There was no sign of forced entry. In a single day, my whole world shatters. Every clue points to a phantom who doesn't exist. I spend five years hunting for answers. Yet even on my deathbed, I never catch the monster who ruined my life. As I close my eyes, one final thought haunts me. If I get another shot, I'll die before I let anything happen to Lisa and Ariah again. When I open my eyes, I'm back to the morning of the tragedy. I walk right out of my meeting and dial Lisa's number. "Don't open the door for anyone. Set up extra cameras around the house, and stay put until I get home!"

My mother has a strange obsession with cleanliness. Everything has to be scrubbed down with bleach before she considers it clean. I know full well how damaging bleach fumes are to the lungs, and I pull up research to talk her out of it. She finally stops. But then, my brother catches an infectious disease, and a doctor recommends disinfecting the floors with bleach. She turns on me immediately, screaming that if she hadn't listened to my nonsense, my brother never would've gotten sick. My brother hears this from her every single day and takes it to heart. When his condition gets worse, he pushes me off the top of a building. Maybe even God can't stand how unfairly I died, because I come back to life.

After getting into a car accident, I'm left fully paralyzed and can only spend the rest of my days in a wheelchair. My mind also regresses to that of a three-year-old. However, my wife, Ingrid Sanford, doesn't abandon me. Instead, she quits her job and cares for me for six long years. During our hardest times, even when she has no money for food, she still makes sure I get the best medication she can afford. I can never forget how she sits by my bedside and holds my hand, whispering, "Don't be afraid, Nick. I'm not the kind of woman who will abandon you. Even if you end up being like this all your life, I will still always stay by your side forever. "But if you do get better, please don't forget to hug me back. I've really suffered a lot these past years…" However, in my previous life, when she arranged for someone to repair my oxygen concentrator machine at home, a man showed up using a fake account on the repair platform. He was the one responsible for dragging our peaceful life straight into hell. He locked the door on us and violated Ingrid right under my nose, forcing me to watch helplessly. Even in my dazed and confused state, I could still never forget the despair in her eyes. After reporting the incident to the police, Ingrid suffered from severe depression and ultimately jumped from the hospital rooftop to her death. As for the repairman, Tyler Wilkerson, he was released and walked away scot-free due to insufficient evidence and my health issues which rendered me unable to testify in court. When I finally regained my senses after that, I learned that Ingrid had paid for all my rehabilitation fees in advance before she died. I open my eyes again, and suddenly, I'm back home in our apartment, where the doorbell is ringing. "Hi, I'm here to repair the oxygen concentrator."

My little sister Vanessa was obsessed with werewolf lore, convinced she was destined to marry a powerful Alpha. When Rex, the Alpha of the Firwood Pack, saved her during a riot, she thought fate had finally set its gears in motion. What she didn't know was that Rex saved her simply because she resembled what his fated mate had looked like in her youth— Helena, the Luna of the Firwood Pack. Any sane woman would've walked away. Vanessa saw it as her golden ticket to the top. She secretly mapped out Helena's usual routes, hired outlaws to stage a brutal car crash, and sprinkled silver dust—lethal to wolves—across the wreckage. Her plan? Wait for the esteemed Luna to draw her last breath, then step in as the "first witness who risked her life to help," climbing over the body to claim her place. Vanessa was convinced that once Helena was gone, she'd be the next Luna. In my past life, I snatched the keys before she could move, locked her in her room, and begged her to come to her senses. Rex wasn't some lovestruck wolf from those cross-species romance novels—he was the iron-fisted Alpha who ruled the entire territory. A wolf's mate bond was carved into the soul. If he ever uncovered the truth, he wouldn't just tear her apart—he'd reduce our entire human family to ash. Vanessa nodded through her tears, swearing she'd let it go. But that night, she drove a silver blade straight through my heart. As I lay dying, she leaned in and whispered: "You ruined my chance to be Luna, Eileen. So you had to die." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment she made her move.

After our pack lost the war, the survivors spent two years on the run. In the third year, the Wolf Council passed a decree allowing us to be absorbed into new packs. But there was a catch—we had to pass the Trials, a specialized test designed to test our physical fitness, reflexes, and overall abilities. Those who passed would be accepted. Those who didn't would be cast out as rogues for good. One month before the Trials, Vera Cross burst into the gathering, her voice trembling with excitement. "Everyone, stop preparing! I got a spell from a witch—just chant it in your head during the Trials, and you'll pass for sure!" She grinned and pulled out a record. "My friend Lily already took these exact Trials during her pack's routine check last month. She didn't prep at all—just chanted this spell in her head. And guess what? She passed." The record got passed around. Cheers erupted. Last life, I tried to warn them. Told them the official Trials would block all spellwork—that using it would flag them as anomalies, get their qualifications revoked on the spot, and dump them straight into rogue status. No one listened. So I reported the situation to the Council. Vera got her membership revoked. Died out in the wilds. Back then, every single pack member said she deserved it. Thanked me for saving them. But after we settled into the new pack, they cornered me. Doused me in gasoline. Burned me alive. "If you'd just kept your mouth shut, she'd still be alive!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment Vera was rallying everyone to give up on prep.

In my previous life, our packs made peace, and the enemy Alpha sent his son, Kael Voss, to us as a hostage. He barely reached my shoulder. He spoke in a tiny voice, and none of the other pups wanted to play with him. My sister, Selene Vale, was next in line to lead the Silver Moon Pack. But she felt sorry for Kael. She brought him home and cared for him herself. We often played a game called “scent tracking.” We smelled Selene's clothes and tried to find where she was hiding. I thought it was an innocent game. Then one full-moon night, Selene's scream woke the entire pack house. We found her curled up in a corner. A silver blade was buried in her chest, and the bed was covered in blood. Kael stood in the moonlight. The scared little pup was gone. His eyes were cold and mature beyond his age. That was when we learned the truth. He was the enemy Alpha's firstborn son. For twelve years, he had taken a bone-shrinking drug to make himself look like a child. The game had been a trick. He had used Selene's scent to track her every move. Pure silver kills werewolves. Selene was badly wounded, and there was no saving her. She died that night under the blood moon. When I opened my eyes again, I was six years old. Kael was being led into our home. He shyly tugged at the corner of my shirt and looked up at me. “Leo, can you take me to Selene?” I gripped the pure silver chain and smiled. “Sure. But first, let's play a new game: putting the bad wolf in a cage.”

When the pack set out on its southward migration, Rebecca Hale, one of our newly appointed young leaders, proposed changing the route at the last minute. She wanted to break away from the main column, take the shortcut past Blackwind Gorge, rest in wild-wolf territory along the way, and live on berries gathered by the roadside. Each wolf would need only half a bag of rations, and we would reach the southern grounds ten days ahead of the main column. Freedom and speed were the whole point. My family had guarded the border of Blackwind Gorge for generations. I knew exactly how deadly that route was. Every year, young wolves who strayed from the pack died in that gorge. Some were flayed by rogues; others became prey for venomous snakes. Newly adult she-wolves were the easiest targets of all. In my past life, I fought with everything I had to stop them. I went from pack to pack, warning each Alpha until they withdrew. In the end everyone gave up the shortcut. Rebecca alone refused to listen. She vanished on her second day in the gorge. A week later, her body was found among the loose rocks. Because I had stopped the others in time, I earned the right to become the pack's priestess. But on the day of my investiture, my mate, Stefan Cross, tore out my throat. "If you hadn't stopped everyone from going with her, Rebecca would never have died alone! "You'll pay for her death with your life!" The packmates I had risked everything to save stood there cheering my death. Then they hurled my body onto the altar. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Rebecca proposed the detour through Blackwind Gorge.

In my last life, it happened at the welcome party for my newborn brother. My aunt Vivian forced her way into the nursing room while my mother was changing and carried Noah out. By the time my mother came out in clean clothes, he was gone. Vivian argued that she had only taken him out to show him to the guests, and that my mother was the one who hadn't watched her own child. The security footage was destroyed on purpose. My mother couldn't find any new evidence, and in the end the investigation into his disappearance was closed. After that, my mother was never right again. She spent every day murmuring Noah's name, and six months later she was in a car accident. My father searched for three years. He finally found Noah's body in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Then I opened my eyes, and Vivian was walking toward the nursing room with a smile on her face. I threw myself at her, grabbed the fruit platter off the table beside me, and slammed it into her.

When the company began choosing a vendor for staff lunches, I immediately ruled out my family's restaurant. A coworker stared at me. "Nora, that is a $150,000 contract. Your family runs a restaurant, and you're turning down money being handed to you? Are you out of your mind?" I smiled and didn't answer. In my last life, I took that contract. Then the new intern, Fiona Bell, accused me of secretly pocketing a commission. She even produced a quote from a three-star hotel for comparison. "Look, theirs is three dollars a portion. How do you justify charging eight?" Even my boyfriend of six years, Gavin Shaw, whom I had been seeing in secret, joined her in confronting me with the invoices. In the end the whole company froze me out. After I was diagnosed with severe depression, I died in a car accident one groggy-eyed morning. Three months after my death, several people were poisoned or killed after that hotel cleaned its dishes with pesticide. This time, I slid the order back to Fiona. My voice was calm. "You're the intern in facilities. You know the approval process better than I do. I'll stay out of it."

Everyone knew I was crazy for Mandy Willow, and tragically so. Ever since I fell for her at first sight, my loyalty never wavered as I swore to myself that I'd never marry anyone else. But Frank Young the hellraiser was the one she ever loved! For his sake, she lied to me and gaslighted me for years, even working with him to plan my parents' murder, stealing my sister's organs and all my family's fortune. I died as I learned the truth, overwhelmed with resentment and regret! When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year, when I had confessed my love to her. But this time, I would not let the same thing happen again. Instead of helping her to destroy my own family, I would slowly tear her apart until she was completely destroyed!

The night I accidentally ended up in bed with my adoptive brother, Adrian, he had just broken his engagement to his childhood sweetheart, Ivy. Adrian was the Alpha of Blackwood Pack. Ivy was the late Beta's daughter, and the woman he had always intended to make his Luna. To protect my reputation and preserve his authority as Alpha, he was forced to complete a mate bond with me. Everyone said he treated me well. But every year on Ivy's birthday, he sat alone in his study until dawn. In the third year of our marriage, Ivy died of wolf-spirit failure. Only then did Adrian learn from the letter she left behind that she had seen us together that morning. The sight had haunted her for the rest of her life. He decided I had destroyed her. He severed our mate bond, drove me from the pack, and used his influence to close every road that might have kept me alive. Before I died, he sent me only four words. "You deserve to die." When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the night his wolf lost control. This time, I tore myself out of his arms, knocked on Ivy's door, and placed him in her hands myself. I smiled at the shock on his face. “Adrian, I won’t love you anymore.”

My Alpha fiance's childhood sweetheart died after being poisoned, and the pack believed I was her killer. Only the Alpha stood by me without wavering. "Ophelia is the kindest Beta in this pack. She is also your future Luna. How could she possibly poison anyone? I never want to hear another accusation like that." For my birthday, he gave me a wolf-tooth necklace. When I came down with a fever, he stayed by my side around the clock and even punished the healer who prepared my medicine. Then, three days later, I overheard him talking to Vivian's mother. "Alpha, you've been dosing the Luna with wolfsbane for days. She hasn't noticed, has she?" Kyle gave a cold laugh. "No. I slip a little into her milk every day, and the fool still thinks I love her. She drove Vivian to her death. I will make her suffer every bit of the pain Vivian endured!" The wolfsbane took effect then and there. He locked me in the cellar, tortured me mercilessly, and even slept with other wolves in front of me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Vivian fled home to the pack and Kyle chose me for his mate.

The Crown Prince loves poetry, but my legitimate elder sister, who wants nothing in this world so much as to be Crown Princess, hasn't an ounce of talent. My mother was born in a brothel, and because of her I grew up skilled in verse, music, and letters. So my sister turned her attention to me, and had me write the poems she sent to the Crown Prince. She promised that if I helped her become the Crown Princess, I'd become a true daughter of House Vale. Because my mother was only a mistress, I'd entered the house as nothing but my sister's maid. But once I'd made her Crown Princess, she repaid me with a cup of poisoned wine. Before I died, I heard her say: "Only with you dead will no one ever find out my secret." When I opened my eyes again, I'd come back to the day she asked me to write the Crown Prince a poem. This time, I bowed my head and agreed, just as I had before. But I changed what I put in the poem. We're both daughters of House Vale. So why shouldn't the Crown Princess be me?

In my last life, I single-handedly wiped out a rival gang, winning great honor for the Family. My mother handed me control of her private arsenal, worth hundreds of millions. Before I could even take inventory, the convent orphan my family had adopted quietly changed the codes, and handed the entire shipment to homeless men in slums controlled by our enemies. Staring down my gun, she crossed herself, her face full of pity. "God tells us to love the world, Alessia. Sitting on all those instruments of murder is a sin. I am only atoning for you." I scoffed, but one second before I pulled the trigger, my childhood friend, the Family's top killer, shot the gun from my hand and denounced me as bloodthirsty, cruel, and incapable of empathy. My older brother, the new Don, only sneered and stripped me of my inheritance on the spot. He threw me into the lowest end of the red-light district to wash dishes until the violence had been ground out of me. That same night, addicts from the rival gang cornered me at the end of an alley, stabbed me more than twenty times, then dumped me into the Thames. I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day the orphan girl walked toward the arsenal with my key in her hand.

A week before our wedding, Damian Hale threw me a pre-wedding party at his family's private racetrack. His racing partner, Sienna Belmont, tossed a set of car keys into my lap. "Every bride should take a spin, right?" I wanted to refuse, but Damian slung an arm around me and said with a laugh, "It's just for fun. Sienna will show you around the track. You'll be fine." I let my guard down. But when I reached the third turn, I hit the brakes. Nothing happened. The car crashed through the barrier. My spine snapped, leaving me in a wheelchair. Three months later, I saw Sienna walk out of Damian's bedroom wearing my engagement ring. All he had to say was, "Avery, I need a wife who can stand beside me." Sienna wheeled me out to the rooftop terrace. "Want to know why your brakes failed?" With a smile, she released my wheelchair's brake and gave me a hard shove. I plunged 40 stories. When I opened my eyes again, I was back a month before the party. I called my father, who was out driving his cab. "Dad, before you became a cab driver, you were a championship coach. You trained some of the best racers in the business. Would you teach your daughter to beat one?"

When the Kane brothers turned eighteen, my father asked my adopted sister, Bianca, and me to choose one of them as our personal guard. Their father had died protecting mine, and my family had raised them inside the Moretti estate ever since. Gabriel chose Bianca. I was left with Julian—a silent, deeply traumatized boy everyone believed had lost his voice in the shooting that killed his parents. For seven years, I took him to specialists, learned sign language, and trained to protect myself because I didn't want my family to cast him out for being unable to speak. Then our yacht sank. Julian tore the last survival suit from my body and gave it to Bianca. As I drowned, he spoke to me for the first time. "I'm sorry, Elena. I want Bianca to live. If we have another life, I'll repay the one I owe you." When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day we chose our guards. But this time, I would never choose him again.