Butcher Wally

I was the lowest omega in the pack—the girl who scrubbed floors with wolfsbane‑burned hands, the chew‑toy everyone kicked when they were bored. Then, on the night of the Moon Choosing, the impossible happened. The Moon Goddess marked me as mate to Prince Lucian Nightbane—heir to the throne, the golden prince every she‑wolf dreamed of. For one breathless moment, I believed my hell was over. But when Lucian scented my sister, he lost his mind. In front of the entire court, he rejected our sacred bond, called me unworthy, and raised my “perfect” sister as his future Luna instead. His punishment for me? “Since the Goddess insists on chaining you to my bloodline,” he sneered, “you’ll marry my uncle. The Bastard Alpha. The Butcher of Blackthorn.” Everyone knew the stories about Alpha Kael Draven —the king’s ruthless brother, the beast who bathed battlefields in blood. They said I was walking into a marriage of ruin and waited for the day he would break me. Instead, the monster pulled me against his scarred chest and growled: > “They threw you to the beast, little omega. > They forgot the beast still answers to the Moon. > From this moment, you are my Luna. My mate. My little wolf. > And I don’t share.” Kael crowned me before the fiercest warriors, kissed every scar they mocked, and worshipped every inch I’d been taught to hide. Now the prince who broke me wants me back—and my ruthless Alpha is willing to kill a prince for me. Will I crawl back as the prince’s discarded consort… or rise as the Bastard Alpha’s beloved little wolf, powerful enough to tear down a crown for love?

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.