Berlin Noir

"What are you doing?" Alpha Albrecht's voice was low, almost a growl. "I… I'm doing what you want," I replied, my voice trembling. "I'm not resisting." He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Why the sudden change, Catriona? You've never been this… obedient." I met his gaze, my heart throbbing aggressively. His eyes scanned my body, lingering on the bruises and marks. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against a particularly dark bruise on my arm. I flinched but held my ground. "You're different," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Yes, Alpha," I whispered, lowering my gaze. He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. He studied me for a long moment, his expression stern. Finally, he nodded. "Get dressed!" "Huh?" I blinked, surprised by his command. If I remember correctly, he actually forced his way into me on this day. What has changed in 2012? ---------------- Catriona Barclay thought her life was over in Berlin when the ruthless Alpha Albrecht Conrad of the Shadow Pack killed her in 2021. Betrayed by those she trusted most, including her secret lover Finlay, and her best friend Greta, her world ended in tragedy. But, a mysterious force pulls her back in time to 2012, where she awakens nine years younger and armed with a chance to rewrite her fate. Determined to avenge her family's massacre and avoid her doomed future, Catriona devises a cunning plan against everyone who wronged her in the future. In the process, she uncovers truths about her family's true murderers and her rare special ability. She also discovered that Alpha Albrecht, the man she had hated her whole life and swore to bring down, is her fated mate chosen by the moon Goddess. Will she follow her quest for vengeance, or embrace a future she never imagined?

Je courais derrière le ballon de Samira comme si ma vie en dépendait. Elle riait aux éclats, cette petite tornade de cinq ans, pendant que le vent emportait son jouet vers l’inconnu. — Naïla, attrape-le ! cria-t-elle, les bras levés. J’avais dix-huit ans, une gamine encore, mais déjà tout pour elle : sa sœur, sa mère, son monde, depuis que le nôtre s’était effondré. Alors je courais, pieds nus, ma robe trop grande flottant autour de moi. Le ballon roula jusqu’aux marches d’un grand hôtel. Il atterrit… juste devant lui. Un homme. Immobile, costume noir, une rose blanche à la main. Son regard perdu dans le vide. Derrière lui, des dizaines d’invités en tenues élégantes. Silencieux. Figés. Je me suis arrêtée, haletante. Tous les regards s’étaient tournés vers moi. Mais lui… ne voyait que moi. Il m’a fixée longuement. Ses yeux se sont allumés, comme si une idée folle venait de naître. Puis il a tendu la main — vers moi, pas le ballon. — Toi, viens ici, dit-il d’une voix glacée. Je suis restée figée, tremblante. Un murmure a traversé la foule : — C’est elle… Il l’a choisie. Derrière, une femme a crié : — Il a perdu la tête ! Épouser une inconnue ? Une gamine ? Mais il s’est avancé. Lentement. Et quand il s’est arrêté, il a dit, calmement, comme une évidence : — Tu es au bon endroit, au bon moment. Tu seras ma femme. Aujourd’hui.