Does Might Guy Die Novels & Stories

After his first love died, Oscar hated me for ten years. I tried everything to soften him. Nothing worked. "If you really want to please me, go die." The words cut deep. But when the riot came, he threw himself in front of me and was hacked down where he stood. He stared at me as he bled out. "If only… my fated mate hadn't been you." At his funeral, his parents wept. "We should have let him be with Catherine. We forced him to marry her, all because of that damn prophecy." Windvale Pack lived by prophecy. Years ago, the Seer had foretold that if Oscar didn't take his fated mate as his bond-mate, disaster would fall on the pack. I was that fated mate. But now, everyone wished I never had been. Even me. I was driven from the funeral, hollow. Then the Moon Goddess descended. She offered me a chance—ten years back—on two conditions. I would not become Oscar's mate. I would prevent Catherine's death. I said yes without thinking.

Kira Holt has always played it safe as the dutiful daughter and struggling junior art curator in New York. But one night at the exclusive club Eclipse, she catches the attention of Damien Blackwood her father’s powerful ex-business partner, a 42-year-old billionaire CEO with a reputation for ruthless control. What starts as dangerous flirtation quickly explodes into raw, addictive passion as Damien introduces her to pleasures she never knew she craved, commanding her body with possessive “Daddy” whispers that make her melt. As stolen nights in his penthouse turn into an all-consuming affair filled with luxury, dominance, and intense pleasure, Kira must hide their relationship from her controlling father while battling her own growing addiction. When family secrets and business rivals threaten to tear them apart, Kira faces the ultimate choice: return to her safe, predictable life or surrender completely to the sugar daddy whose touch tastes sweeter than anything she has ever known.

My mother was the Chosen Luna—the one who once conquered three powerful Alphas. When her mission was done, she vanished from this world, leaving behind only me, and the three Alphas who had once loved her with everything they had. My first father, Alpha Jeff Tanners, ruled the Silver Moon Pack—rich enough to buy half the continent. My second father, Alpha Kael Grey, commanded all the warriors of the Northern Alliance. My third father, Alpha Bran Theron, held every medical resource wolves and humans depended on. For eighteen years, I was their cherished little princess. Whatever I wanted, they gave—no questions, no hesitation. Until they brought home that girl—a fragile orphan named Arie Ryker. From that day on, everything changed. She told them I called her a filthy stray, unworthy of our pack. She said I led the young wolves at school to bully her. She said I tampered with her performance costume, that I caused her allergy, that I made her faint on stage. And they believed her. They stopped believing me. The ninety-ninth time they chose her over me, when they shouted, "Don't come back again!", I didn't argue. I just picked up my luggage and left. They thought I'd come running home like before—that my disappearance was just another way to make them see me. But when they found out I had left the pack for good, that my identity had been erased, that I could no longer be found, the three mighty Alphas finally broke.

Keep your legs open, baby. That’s it… eyes on me.” One had his hand around my throat. Another had his mouth between my thighs. The third… God help me, he was the one who whispered the filth that made me forget my name. Three of them. All at once. Tearing me apart like I belonged to them. And the truth is—I did. Because I gave them my body the night I lost everything else. The night I got fired. The night my boyfriend left me for my best friend. The night I nearly ended it all. But I’d been kind to a stranger once. Gave him my umbrella in the rain. Smiled at him even when my world was falling apart. That man? He found me drunk and desperate on the edge of ruin… and offered me something darker than a second chance. To be theirs. All three of theirs. Not a girlfriend. Not a wife. A plaything. A prize. A pet. Now I wake up in silk sheets. I don’t work. I don’t pay bills. I only exist to please them. And Daddy doesn’t like when I cry. He likes when I beg.

After his female assistant crashed her car into my sister, my CEO fiancé, the man who once adored me beyond reason, swore he would make her pay. However, instead of punishing her, he promoted her to my position at work. He claimed that the higher she climbed, the harder she would fall. He spent millions at an auction to buy her a bracelet and even bought her dog a luxury mansion as a kennel. Every time, he told me the same thing: it was all part of his revenge plan and that I needed to endure it a little longer. My sister suffered a brain hemorrhage caused by complications from the accident and urgently needed surgery. Desperate, I begged my fiancé to return the salary he had managed for me over the years. He agreed and told me to get his assistant's approval for the withdrawal. When I submitted the request, she rejected it for incomplete documentation. After I finally gathered everything she asked for, she smiled, said office hours were over, and told me to come back tomorrow. My sister died before tomorrow could come. Only then did my fiancé call to comfort me. “Tell Dolly to wait a few more days for her surgery. Everything I’m doing is to get revenge on Sylvia and avenge Dolly. During her celebration banquet the day after tomorrow, I’ll take back everything I gave her and ruin her completely. After that, we’ll get married. You and Dolly will finally be happy.” By then, I finally understood. His so-called revenge was nothing more than an excuse for the way he indulged and favored his assistant. When my sister died, whatever remained between us died with her.

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."

My brother-in-law had a sudden heart attack. The doctor said only my wife could perform the specific surgery he needed. It was a critical situation. By the time I finally managed to get through to her, her childhood sweetheart answered the phone. "We're just about to head out camping," he said casually. "We won't be coming back tonight." My heart sank. "Ryan had a heart attack. He needs surgery immediately. Tell her to come back to the hospital—now." Instead, my wife's irritated voice cut through. "Are you done? How dare you make up a lie like that and curse my brother!" Before I could explain, she hung up. When I tried calling back, her phone was already off. In the end, my brother-in-law died because the window for surgery closed. And my wife lost her mind.

My mom, who works as a lawyer, decides to take me to court just because I refuse to donate my platelets to my younger sister, Lindsey Finch. I explained to her that I have a blood clotting disorder, and having an extremely low platelet count would put my life at risk. But she screamed at me through tears: “Can’t you just stop pretending? Do you really have to let your sister die? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?” I lost the case, and my platelets were forcibly taken. I suffered a massive hemorrhage and died a miserable death alone in a deserted corner.

When I had only three months left to live after taking the cursed blade meant for my husband Lucian, his first love Lily returned. When I endured the pain and prepared a dinner to commemorate our anniversary, he did not come back, he was having a steamy car session with Lily. When I went to the hospital alone to buy medicine, he was accompanying Lili for her pregnancy check-up. I pretended not to have noticed, I just silently played the role of a perfect wife, and wrote him four letters as a gift for our anniversary. After I die, he saw the gifts I left behind and went completely insane.

I had just gotten home when a parent in my son’s class group chat erupted: [Ms. Zinn, what kind of place are you running? Do you let just any random stray off the street become a teacher?] [My daughter came home, grabbed two forks, and tried to jump off the balcony. She said it was Miss Never who told her to!] The homeroom teacher panicked and denied it at once, insisting there was no such person as Miss Never at the kindergarten. She even posted the official teaching schedule in the chat to prove it. On the security footage, there was not a single trace of this so-called Miss Never. However, later, my son whispered to me in secret, “Mom, Miss Never is an old lady with a cat’s face.” “She says only kids can see her.”