Calling Fnaf

During the exchange of tokens in the Marking Ceremony, I presented the wolf tooth ring I had carved myself, as a witness to our marking. But my Alpha mate, Frendo, remained completely indifferent, not releasing any marking aura, as though he had entirely forgotten that today was the day of our spiritual bonding ceremony. At that moment, Lily updated her Instagram, saying she would be returning to the Sliver Lake Pack in an hour. The air immediately filled with the restless scent of wolves, and before I could react, my Beta brother, George, stepped onto the ceremony stage and emotionlessly announced, "The Marking Ceremony is canceled." Frendo and George, in perfect synchronization, turned and left the altar together, leaving me standing alone, under the watchful eyes of all the Pack members. They wanted to see how a one-person marking ceremony would proceed. It wasn’t until I held back my inner frustration and awkwardly finished the ceremony with some semblance of dignity that I opened Lily’s Instagram. In her latest photo, George and Frendo were both surrounding her, releasing intimate signals. One was holding a silver moon festival gift box, while the other offered her a moonlight rose, her favorite. I bitterly smiled and wiped away the tears from my eyes before calling the one family that truly mattered, my flesh and blood. "Dad, Mom. I want to go home."

For her whole life, Lyra Suarez had been a good girl. That one girl who was too sweet, too nice, too helpful, too kind, too easy to manipulate, too easy to use, too easy to destroy. Being too pure and too caring sometimes has its bad side. And she knew that too well. At twenty-three, she was busy working her life away just to protect herself and keep her distance from her biological father, who never even claimed her.   With just one laced drink, her trust in her only aunt disappeared. Everybody seemed to see her as a beautiful ticket to a fortune. She was sold to a filthy old man.   While her poor soul cried for help, calling all the saints never seemed to work. And as her last prayer, in her most desperate state, she called for him... the Devil.   Because a deal with the Devil is always better than living in hell. And sometimes, the Devil is not the one to fear.

Corey Hamilton had everything she has always wanted, a good job, the perfect fiancé and a great best friend. But then, her life took a drastic turn when she lost her job, abruptly, coupled with the heart-wrenching betrayal from the two people she loved most in the world; Her perfect fiancé chose her best friend over her, calling off their wedding. The decision to seek momentary escape in alcohol only complicated her life further, tossing a one-night-stand with the sinfully attractive billionaire, Kai MacLeod, into the equation. The tables spun further, going up in flames when she found herself with a baby. But the saying that all that glitters wasn't gold couldn't have been more right because beneath the facade of tons of companies, casinos and several businesses, lies a powerful werewolf king. Kai MacLeod wasn't who she thought he was and she was soon caught in an endless web of the supernatural world. And this time? There was no going back.

" Karen!" He screamed, kneeing beside her, " Karen! No please don't let me" he added as fake tear pour down his face. Karen stared at him with her eyes wide open, struggling with the pain, "You've always been stubborn, what made you think I will divorce you?. Of course, the clan would ask me questions but this plan was brilliant right, you die, they mourn you and we all move on." " Yo.....u're an an... im... al" she stuttered " No no, this was just the only way to get rid of you, you falling mixed with the poison will make sure you never survive" he said Karen struggled but the pain was too much and the darkness was calling her so strongly. " Is she dead?" asked a feminine voice, Karen Digwe a 20 year old young lady, who had a crush on the most popular boy in school, Allen Robert. next alpha of the clan, which made him the apple of every girl’s eyes, they all wanted to be the lucky one. Ever since high school Karen had often received letters from her secret admirer who always signed it with Ar, which at first she thought was Allen, maybe he had a crush on her too and didn't want her to know but her suspicions were wrong when the person sent her a letter warning her not to get married to Allen Robert. But she didn't listen, after a year of marriage, Karen is killed by her very own husband. Also finding out he had a mistress all this time. Karen thinking everything was over as she embraced the darkness of death, only to wake up 2 year before her marriage to Allen. Will she take revenge or forgive him? What other secrets does Allen hold? Find Out In The Luna's Pain.

After three miscarriages for Xavier Lowe, I see it—my mother-in-law has three years left, my father-in-law nine years, and my sister-in-law two years. I say nothing. After the third miscarriage, my mother-in-law blames me, calling me a curse who "kills" children. My sister-in-law sneers, saying she almost died in a car crash the year I married Xavier—as if my bad luck dragged her down. My mother-in-law snaps, "She can't even keep a child. It must be because she's cursed!" Xavier just stands there, silent. He doesn't say a single word for me. I know that, deep down, he believes that I bring bad luck. Maybe it's also because he already has someone else—his secretary, Yvette Snyder. His mother has always liked her better, and he clung to her the night I lost my third child. I don't explain because I know the truth will only destroy them faster. On my 28th birthday, I catch a glimpse of my own countdown in the mirror. On that day, I take a leave of absence. I go to the funeral home and pick out an urn—pure white, just like the wedding dress I once wore. Wearing a beautiful floral dress, I text Xavier, asking him to meet me at the lake where we first met ten years ago. I wait from daylight until nightfall as my countdown ticks to zero. I die, and he never shows up.

In the empty villa, Celia Quinn sat motionless on the sofa. It wasn't until much later that the villa's front door swung open, and Lucas Shaw stepped inside. His gaze paused briefly on her, then his expression turned cold. "Yvonne is running a fever today. Why did you keep calling me?"

He’s the dracula that is determined to be the next Alpha. And he just rejected Angel as his mate. Angel want to hate his guts for ghosting her … but she can practically hear his wolf calling to hers.If determination had a name, this black wolf would be it. Tall, broad and muscular, he’s been training his whole life to take over as the new pack leader. With his sharp gray eyes and thick black hair, he looks every bit the part and his delicious scent makes it impossible for Angel to stay mad at him … or resist him.Angel pretends to hate him and never want him again yet not even proud Alphas or rejected mates can escape fate…How much longer can you resist the delicious pull?

The night before returning to the Cantrell residence, I had a dream where I was the despised antagonist in a book. In the story, my father had adopted a girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to my late mother. On the day he came to pick me up, he got into a devastating car accident. After that, my second brother, Shawn Cantrell, lashed out, calling me a curse, while my eldest brother, Seth Cantrell, treated me with cold indifference. In the end, I was abandoned by everyone, meeting a tragic and lonely end.

At the age of twenty, I mated to my father's best friend, Lucian, the Alpha of Silverfang Pack despite our age difference. He was eight years older than me and was known in the pack as the cold-hearted King of Hell. He was ruthless in the pack and never got close to any she-wolves, but he was extremely gentle and sweet towards me. He would buy me the priceless Fangborn necklace the next day just because I casually said, "It looks good." When I curled up in bed in pain during my period, he would put aside Alpha councils and personally make pain suppressant for me, coaxing me to drink spoonful by spoonful. He would hug me tight when we mated, calling me "sweetheart" in a low and hoarse voice. He claimed I was so alluring that my body had him utterly addicted as if every curve were a narcotic he couldn't quit. He even named his most valuable antique Stormwolf Armour "For Elise". For years, I had believed it was to commemorate the melody I had played at the piano on our first encounter—the very tune that had sparked our love story. Until that day, I found an old photo album in his study. The album was full of photos of the same she-wolf. You wouldn’t believe this, but we looked like twin sisters! The she-wolf in one of the photos was playing the piano and smiling brightly. The back of the photo said, "For Elise." ... After discovering the truth, I immediately drafted a severance agreement to sever our mate bond. Since Lucian only cared about Elise, no way in hell I would be your Luna Alice anymore.

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.