Short Stories & Novels

Three years after Alpha King Damien Caldwell marks me, Drake Whitaker finally remembers I exist. Turns out he really believes I'll "wait for him forever." Twenty black SUVs clog the private road into Ridgefield pack territory, trunks crammed with moonstone jewelry, old talismans, and rare herbs. Drake steps out of the tricked-out Hummer, wearing a smug smile and clutching a stack of parchment contracts. "Aria," he calls up, like some medieval knight, "I told you once the Silvermoon Coalition was official and Kenneth's supply lines were stable, I'd bring you to my pack. "The High Council finalized five packs yesterday. I came first thing this morning to show you I mean it." I sit in the upstairs study, watching a video Damien just sent of him playing with our son, then glance through the blinds at the ridiculous scene unfolding below. Drake lifts his face toward the second floor. "I know you're upset, but Kenneth controls the biggest timber in the Eastvale region. I had to mark Isabella. It was politics. You get that. Feelings don't need a mark anyway. I'll treat you better than a Luna." His words made my skin crawl. I pressed the intercom button on the desk. "Clear the drive. Tell security someone's trespassing." What a day! I've just taken my son to the medical center for his one-month checkup. Damien sends me back to Ridgefield pack for a week to rest. Instead, I get this mess on my doorstep.

During the heatwave apocalypse, I didn't die due to the heat, nor did I die in a conflict. My younger sister, Amber Carter, has a "heart of gold" by nature. She couldn't bear to see the people suffering in the apocalypse, so she gave away all the food in our cellar. After we ran out of food, Amber forced me to go look for food outside in the heat. That was how I died—from the heat outside. In this lifetime, I'm going to enjoy my ice-cold watermelon while watching Amber dig her grave with her own hands.

The heat apocalypse struck without warning, and the office turned into hell on earth. Global temperatures spiked past 126°F. Ellie Ramsey, the receptionist, collapsed against the water cooler, her skin fused to the plastic tank. When Frank Higgins tried to pull her free, a layer of skin tore away with his hand. Of the hundred-some people who'd worked in our building, only seven of us were left. The survivors retreated into the underground bunker beneath the building, sealed off from the heat above. Water and food ran out fast. We'd have fought over a single rat's blood just to wet our throats. Then Jake Collins, the technician who'd gone to check the UV lamp in the incubation unit, came sprinting back like he'd lost his mind. He was clutching a part in his hand, his face bone-white. "This temperature control module—" He shoved it in front of my face, his fingers shaking. "The manufacture date. It's from last March."

As the Vitano princess, I was promised early on in an arranged marriage to the Rosso Family. But when the time came to exchange our families' tokens, I was bedridden with a high fever and had to ask my younger sister, Rosa, to deliver mine in my place. The Rosso heir, Adrian Rosso, took a liking to her and insisted she be the bride instead. Just six months after the wedding, her husband beat her to death in a drunken rage. My father and my brother decided it was my fault Rosa died. They stopped speaking to me and treated me like I didn't exist. Then, during an arms deal at the port, we were ambushed. My father stayed behind to cover our retreat and took two bullets meant for me. My brother used every last ounce of his strength to shove me into the helicopter. I reached for him, but there was no room left on board. "Valentina, if we could do this all over again, I'm begging you, don't let Rosa go in your place." He let go and vanished into the fire. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day my family had sat down to discuss the arranged marriage. My brother, who had always spoiled Rosa beyond reason, did something completely out of character. He shut her down the moment she volunteered for the marriage. He had been reborn too. This time around, we were both going to make up for the regrets of our past lives.

Everyone said I was Domenico Calvetti's most obedient woman. On our first wedding anniversary, he flirted with a pair of twins at the gambling table. He had lipstick smeared all over his shirt. I smiled and wiped it away with a silk handkerchief, but he swatted my hand aside. "Don't kill the mood." In the third year, the star performer from the club he ran showed up at my door with a gun pressed to my temple, demanding to take my place. Without flinching, I disarmed her using the technique he taught me and disposed of the body myself. Behind me, he held his new lover and laughed softly. "Lucia, you always know what to do." In the fifth year, he blew up the library my father left behind just to make his new flame, Marilena Rossetti, smile. That library was my mother's favorite spot when she was alive, and it held the only photographs of our family of three. The explosion made me the laughingstock of the city. People whispered, "Signora Calvetti can't even protect her own memories." Everyone believed I could never leave the Calvetti family or Domenico, but they forgot how this all started. Back then, he rescued me from my adoptive father and fell in love with me at first sight. He knelt and begged to marry me, swearing he would protect me from blood and pain for the rest of my life. For ten years, I held onto those empty words. At our tenth anniversary party, his hundredth mistress arrived. Alice Russo, fresh out of college, held a glass of red wine and poured it down my gown while Domenico watched. "Signora Calvetti, this dress is so old. Given your position, you should be wearing something better." Everyone at the party waited to see my humiliation. Instead, I lowered my eyes and dialed Domenico's father's number. "Father, the ten-year agreement is over. I won't be Signora Calvetti anymore."

“That video in the group chat was filmed in your bridal suite, wasn’t it?” one of the women asked with a grin. “Sleeping around right under Adela’s nose? That’s bold.” Lorenzo leaned back, swirling his drink, looking pleased with himself. “Yes.” “I used to be too sick to do half the things I wanted,” he said, tapping his chest. “After the transplant, I realized spending the rest of my life with only one lover would be a waste.” The room erupted. He let them laugh, then added, “I set myself a goal. One hundred places before the wedding. Once it’s over, I’ll settle down. After that, my body and my marriage belong to Adela.” More laughter. More glasses raised. I stood outside the door with one hand pressed hard against my chest, where an artificial heart kept beating. Lorenzo never knew I had learned his language. He also never knew that I had already discovered he was keeping Vera—our wedding’s mistress of ceremonies—behind my back. And because he had hidden something from me, I had hidden something from him. I had already booked an assisted death service overseas.

I'm on my way to get married when a truck slams into my car from behind. After being unconscious for a long time, I hear the doctor telling my fiancee that I might lose my memory. I decide to have a little fun and open my eyes, pretending to be confused. "Who are you?" My fiancee goes completely still. I'm about to admit I'm only teasing her, but before I can, she grabs my best man's hand without a second thought. "I'm Janice Lloyd, your best friend's fiancee. You got into a car accident on your way to our wedding."

On the day I drive home from my business trip, I find out that my husband, Matthew Channing, has occupied my parking slot. His SUV is parked haphazardly between two parking slots, leaving me without any space to park my own car at all. I find it funny that Matthew is such a klutz when it comes to things like this. So, I take a video of the situation and upload it to the Internet. Little do I know that it will go viral shortly afterward. Thinking that everyone will laugh at Matthew with me, I'm surprised when I see the comment section. "Don't tell me you got tricked by your husband for real! It's obvious that he has a mistress at home with him right now! Once you reach home and call him to move his car, he'll know that you're back!" "Lady, leave the car be! What's more important right now is the mistress in your bed!" "Do not call your husband and tell him to move his car no matter what! Right now, you have to go home and catch him in the act!"

My Alpha mate, Dominic, rules the entire Stormfang Pack, but in our ten years together, he has never once given me a gift. Even our bonding tokens—a pair of rare healing crystals that cost me an entire year's savings—were taken by him without hesitation. He claimed that as Alpha he needed to appear frugal and understated, which is why he marked me in secret without hosting a proper mating ceremony. Because of this, most pack members don't even know I'm his mate. Yet when Sylvia, his childhood sweetheart, returned to Stormfang territory, he publicly announced their mating plans. He even dipped into the pack's long-term savings to throw her an extravagant celebration. When my mother was attacked by rogue wolves and left critically wounded, I begged Dominic to return my healing crystals—the only things that could save her life. Instead of helping, he denied knowing me in front of the entire pack and ordered his guards to drive me away with burning torches. Later, my mother died during the Blood Moon Festival. I lost my only family during what should have been our most sacred celebration. I renounced my Stormfang membership that same night and accepted the Northern Shadow Pack's Chief Healer position. While packing my belongings, Dominic returned from his honeymoon with Sylvia. He found me and assumed I was merely sulking. For the first time ever, he made a generous offer: "Come on, what could possibly happen to your mother? At worst, I'll give you that fancy mating ceremony you've always wanted. That should satisfy her desire to be an Alpha's mother-in-law." What he didn't realize was that from the moment my mother died, I had already sworn to the Moon Goddess that our mate bond would be broken forever.

Five years ago, the Gotti family, who were on the verge of bankruptcy, managed to rise from the ashes thanks to my investment. Eventually, they develop their company into a firearms company that's well-known in the west, and they earn over hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of profits annually. At the celebratory party, Elena Bellini, the HR manager who has only joined the company for less than a month, shows my photo and my salary. She then berates me for skipping out on work and stealing from the company. "Half a year ago, Valentina went missing for more than a month for no reason! Even when she's needed for work at the company, she's nowhere to be found! "Also, how can a bottom feeder like her afford to spend money at the high-end restaurants and malls?" Elena keeps her head raised high as she looks at me in disdain. "The reason why Valentina has disappeared is so that she can steal expensive items from the company and sell them to other clients! This photo of her stealing a bottle of red wine is the proof! "I strongly suggest that Valentina is to be dismissed on the spot! We can't let her continue breaking the company's rules!" I remain silent as I turn to look at Matteo Gotti, the CEO of the company. He knows that a bunch of robbers had stolen a batch of important products half a year ago. I was the one who had snatched everything back without a weapon under my arsenal, seeing as I had walked past the warehouse by coincidence at that time. Because of that, I ended up getting injured and had to spend a month just to recuperate. Matteo also knows that I've taken the red wine just to entertain the other mafia leaders, who happen to be the company's clients. That red wine isn't for my own consumption at all. But he has the nerve to chuck the folder away angrily before glaring at me coldly, as though I truly am a criminal. "Valentina Caruso, is Elena speaking the truth? You'd better explain yourself right now!" I just sneer at him in return. "I have nothing to say." The frightening reality and the outcome, which is obviously a failure, is the best explanation I've given them.

After I switched from a private company to a foreign enterprise, my salary rose accordingly. My husband, who was always frugal, suggested that I hand over my entire salary to him. He claimed it would be used for daily household expenses. Watching him calculate the numbers, I asked, “What about your salary?” He said casually, “I’m saving it for our retirement.” I said nothing and followed his instructions. I spent my entire salary within a month. My husband finally felt uneasy when he saw how many packages kept showing up at our home. Seeing his doubts, I happily said, “You’re the one who said to use my whole salary for household expenses.” He exclaimed, “What are we, the Rockefellers?! How can one month cost this much?” That was funny. It turned out that he knew that a normal family’s expenses would never take my entire salary.

My boyfriend's childhood friend, Cassandra Lindth, performs one of the forbidden spells, trading 30 years of her own life just to steal the top spot on the civil service exam from me. She pulls off a 30-day miracle and becomes an internet sensation, her comeback going viral. Meanwhile, I take the fall, get reported for cheating, and am banned from ever taking the exam again. I turn to my boyfriend, Derrick Hayes, for help, but the look he gives me spells pure disbelief. "Have you completely lost it? You couldn't pass on your own, and now you're trying to drag Cassandra's name through the mud? I never imagined you'd stoop this low!" I am speechless, with no way to prove my innocence. Cassandra sues me for defamation, and Derrick shows up in court to testify against me. I have studied for three years straight, and it ends with a three-year prison sentence. My parents are disappointed with me. They go so far as to publish their statement in the newspapers, publicly shaming me. Derrick and Cassandra announce their wedding online and are set to dive into their new jobs as soon as the honeymoon wraps up. With no way to clear my name, I spiral into despair. Disoriented and numb, I fall into the river and drown. When I open my eyes again, I am back to the week before the civil service exam. I toss my exam ticket in the trash and sign up for a three-month temp gig instead. If Cassandra is dumb enough to trade 30 years of her life for my spot, she can have it and choke on it!

My sister, Cherry Nicholson, called me nine times before she jumped into the sea. But I didn't pick up once. Now everyone says it's my fault she's gone—even my fiance, my Alpha mate—Samuel Carver. He used to stay by my side through every painful treatment for my wolfsbane fever. Now, he shoves me to the ground like I'm nothing. His once gentle face is now twisted with contempt as he looks down on me and warns, "You don't deserve to be happy!" And truth be told, it isn't just them who believe that. Even I do. Since then, I've stopped going out, stopped dressing up, and stopped meeting anyone's eyes. Even when I run into Samuel holding hands with another she-wolf, I lower my head and walk past silently. But when the wolfsbane fever comes back, I drown in agony and despair. I decide to give my life to atone for what happened to Cherry. That's when they all start to regret it.

My boyfriend was a therapist. On the day I got diagnosed with ALS, he was busy celebrating his friend's birthday. He said, "Sophie's got depression. Without me, she could break down, hurt herself, or do worse things." To look after her, he broke up with me and moved into her place. I blocked him on everything, agreeing we'd go our separate ways. Strangely, he lost his nuts when he found out I was dying.

My husband, Ivan Sanders, found out that his first love, Brenda Waters, had gotten divorced. That very night, I asked for a divorce. Ivan smiled. "Are you sure? I'll call my secretary and have him cancel the custom dress from Butterfly." I blinked. Um... on second thought, maybe I should think it over a little longer.

It is the third year of the apocalypse. All water sources have been thoroughly polluted, making even a single bottle of clean water extremely rare. Every base has to send out search teams to find new water sources for all. My husband, Jasper Curran, is a geologist, and so, he is able to locate water sources that are still pure and unpolluted. However, when someone holds a knife to my throat for the last bottle of water—thinking that he will do anything to stop them—he hands the only bottle of clean water to Avery Grayson, the person who claimed she was my parents' real daughter instead of me. "Ave is thirsty. She's been suffering since she was little and she even had her parents taken by you, Arianne Grayson," Jasper says. "Just let her have the water." Jasper's expression is too calm and collected, as if my life is not on the line because of him. "They're just trying to scare you. You've enjoyed so many years of being spoiled with a luxurious lifestyle anyway. So what if you get bullied a little?" The people then kick me to the ground in a fit of rage as I watch Jasper huddle Avery into his arms and disappear into the desert. I get beaten up so hard that my chapped lips crack and start bleeding once again. I look at the menacing faces around me and quickly exclaim, "Wait, wait! I can help you find clean water too!"

Four years into our bond, my body was a wreck. Losing our first pup had nearly killed me, leaving me too fragile to handle Fred’s massive frame. Fred was our Alpha—a mountain of a man. To protect me, he publicly announced he’d had a vasectomy. Even after the Pack Healer cleared me, Fred wouldn’t touch me. He claimed he was terrified of hurting me again. I thought I had the most loyal mate alive. Then I saw him. He was at a shop across town with his Lead Warrior, loading a basket with over a dozen toys—the most expensive models they had. The Warrior nudged him, smirking. "Planning a marathon? You’re not worried Maya will find out you’re screwing her sister?" Fred laughed, his eyes bright with a sick kind of pride. "Maya is my Luna; I love her. But her body is broken," he shrugged. "Cynthia looks exactly like her—only younger, tighter, and willing to do whatever I want. No complaints, no pain. My soul belongs to my Luna, but I need an heir. Cynthia will carry my son so Maya doesn't have to suffer."

For three consecutive years, Nate Jackel had a wedding dress customized each year and gifted it to the woman he loved most. When reporters asked me how I felt, I looked at the trending headlines filled with this so-called "true love" hype and sneered. “What’s there to praise about an affair between a cheating husband and his mistress?” That night, Nate rented out a rooftop restaurant and had ten thousand drones launched into the sky to celebrate Grace Lawson’s birthday. In his way, he was telling the entire world that he loved her. That was fine by me. As long as I stayed married, Grace would forever be a mistress.

On Valentine’s Day, my friend dragged me to the Pund to dig through trash cans. I thought we would find nothing, but I found a platinum diamond ring. The ring looked exactly like the one on my own ring finger. I immediately video-called my wife, Wendy Lawson. “Where’s your ring? Let me see it.” Wendy paused for a moment. Then, she smiled helplessly and held up her left hand. “Yale, this is our wedding ring. Do you really think I’d lose it? See? It’s right here.” I smiled and ended the call. Then, I looked at the inside of the ring again. The engraving of our initials and our wedding date was clearly visible inside the ring. I tightened my grip on the ring, got in my car, and drove straight to Wendy Lawson’s office.

Before the world turned to ice, her family came knocking, ready to negotiate the terms of our marriage. They wanted more than commitment. They wanted three million dollars and three luxury homes. My parents shut them down immediately. It was ridiculous. Then, the storm hit. The blizzard sealed us inside the house. With numbers on their side and no mercy to spare, her family took control of everything. The food. The heat. Our chances. When we fought back, we lost. They dragged us outside and left us in the snow. We froze. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back to before it all began.