Novel & Cerita Echo Bad Batch

I am Alpha Bruce’s fated mate. But for eight years, I’ve been his dirty little secret, hiding in plain sight as his Beta. When I saw him preparing the grounds for the Luna ceremony, I thought he was finally going to announce me. But on our eighth anniversary, I saw a video posted by Seraphina, the daughter of the Silvermoon Pack’s Alpha. In it, she was coyly showing off the mating mark on her neck. The caption read: [Eight years apart, eight years you waited. I'm finally going to be yours!] And the hand holding her—I knew it instantly. It was Bruce’s. Only the spot on his wrist where my name had been tattooed now read ‘Seraphina.’ I ran out, desperate to confront them, but I was attacked by rogues on the way. I called for Bruce through our mind-link, over and over. The last time, I heard his voice, low and thick with desire: “Isadora? She was just a placeholder for you. A worthless, parentless she-wolf. She wouldn’t dare make a scene even if she knew.” Lost in despair, the fragile life I carried inside me flickered and died. But they didn’t know that a month ago, my birth parents—the Alpha and Luna of the Silvermoon Pack—had found me. I am the true Alpha’s daughter of the Silvermoon Pack. Seraphina is just an impostor. After the sterile cold of the surgery, the first thing I did was call my mother. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming home to take my place. I agree to the alliance you mentioned, but I want Seraphina exiled from the Silvermoon Pack!”

I was bleeding out in a corner after a hit from a rival family. My husband, Dante—the Torrino family’s underboss—was in his car, holding his best friend's little sister. He gave me one cold look and said, "Leave her. She's a nobody." Later, after someone else saved me, I walked home, soaked in my own blood. I found Dante cradling Seraphina, fussing over her. All she had was a scraped knee. The blood covering my clothes? He didn't even see it. I just watched. Said nothing. Then I pulled out my phone and called my mother. "Mom, I need to come home."

I ordered a vampire online—Adrian. Hot, aloof. He was supposed to be my bodyguard and live-in housekeeper. But he was always staring at my neck like he was starving. Fangs popping out, eyes glowing red. And he was always walking around shirtless, wearing nothing but an apron. When I tried to stop him, he’d look all hurt and ask, "You don't like it?" "But you're blushing." I didn't know what to do, so I messaged customer service. They suggested, "You could form a bond with him. He'll be more obedient." So I did. But I had no idea I was forming a two-way mate's bond instead of a one-way master-servant bond. The night we bonded, he climbed into my bed, eyes glowing red. He licked my skin, hungry, grinding against me desperately and begging, "Master, just one bite, please? I'll make you feel so good..."

My marriage to Dante, the Moretti heir, was meant to be a union of power, an alliance of empires. But for me, it was also the real deal. Then his adopted sister, Clara, showed up at a party. She was wearing his custom leather jacket, straddling his prized Ducati, and she looked right at me with a smirk. "Dante says," she purred, "that I suit these precious things better than you do." My smile froze. Dante had her on a plane overseas so fast it was like she'd never existed. Five years later, the night before our wedding. I found him staring at the design for our wedding rings. He'd changed the engraving. The "Amor Aeternus"—Eternal Love—was gone. In its place: "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." My sin, my greatest sin. I took off my veil right then and there. "The wedding," I said, my voice like ice, "is off."

My Alpha was gravely wounded in a battle with a rival pack. But I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t even flustered. I let him go, three thousand kilometers away, to be healed. Because in my past life, Damien got himself injured on purpose, all to give his healer mistress, Isla, a shot at glory. Worried sick about him, I forced our pack’s healers to treat him instead. But Isla lost her one shot at fame. Without it, she couldn't secure her place in any pack and eventually killed herself. Damien's life was saved, but he blamed me for her death. He poisoned me, leaving me to die in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right before Damien got hurt.

Chloe, the maid I share a room with, is dead. I watched the head housekeeper and another maid pin her to the floor. I watched them as the housekeeper vomited up a slimy, black web of fungus and forced it down Chloe's throat. I should have screamed. I wanted to. But my selective mutism took over, trapping the sound in my throat. It probably saved my life. The next day, Chloe was alive again. She walked into the young miss’s room to brush her hair, just like always. I was so scared I dropped the water basin I was holding. As I stood there, frozen, the young miss leaned in close, her voice a whisper only I could hear. "You've noticed it too, haven't you? They're not themselves anymore."

The first thing I did when I came back to life was to pawn off my engagement to the Don of the Schroder family, Edmund, on my stepsister. In my last life, he used the "family rules" to make me give up the one thing I loved—racing. He threw out all my colorful dresses and turned me into his canary in a gilded cage. I died, suffocated and hopeless. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. I quietly switched my name with my stepsister Laura's and let Edmund sign the papers. He didn't forget to warn me, "Stay out of trouble. Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come get you." But he had no idea I'd already bought a fake ID and passport. In three days, I'd be gone. I'd be free.

Everyone in New York knew I was the Godfather’s heart. Gavin Whitestone’s heart. He loved me for ten years. He’d fly into a rage if I so much as got a paper cut. But he’s the one who gave me these three scars. The first time, he pulled every doctor to treat Sofia, the girl who took a bullet for him, and ignored the shrapnel tearing into my side. The second time, he was drugged and fucking Sofia in his bed. When I walked in on them, he shoved me aside, desperately carrying her to the hospital. The third time, he took my father's last gift to me—a revolver—and gave it to a pregnant Sofia, just to make her smile. He told me, “It’s all for the baby. Once the baby is born, we’ll go back to how we were.” But this time, I didn't forgive him. I threw away every gift he ever gave me and vanished without a trace. And that’s when the untouchable Godfather finally broke.

The sixth year I gave up my family, my name, everything, to be with Marcus. That’s when I found out I was just a stand-in for the one he could never forget. And now, she was back. I accepted my family’s arrangement. The marriage alliance. The day my engagement dress arrived at the office, Marcus looked pissed. “I thought we agreed we’d get married when my career was more stable.” I said nothing. But when the wedding invitation arrived, Marcus finally broke. The groom wasn't him. It was the heir to the Moretti family.

For five years, Marco Falcone was the perfect man. Or so I thought. The illusion shattered on the night of our engagement party, when his mistress crashed it, a five-year-old boy in tow. The boy ran straight to Marco, crying, "Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!" It had to be some kind of sick joke. But then Marco turned to me, his voice stripped of all warmth. "This is my son, Leo. A… mistake Sofia and I made five years ago." "Leo is the Falcone heir. I have to legitimize them. That means I'll be engaged to Sofia first." "But Lydia, believe me, I still love you. We can have our engagement party in six months. You're going to be the Donna of the Falcone family. I expect you to be generous and understanding. This is non-negotiable." I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slid the engagement ring off my finger. My eyes scanned the room and locked on the man in the corner—Lorenzo Moretti, the most powerful Don in New York. He held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his. "Don Moretti," I called out, my voice clear and steady. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"