Fake Alpha Novels & Stories

Curious, I picked it up, my heart skipping a beat as I read the sender’s name. WhiteRabbit01: “Hey, Alpha. Long time no chat.”

“The number I gave you, Abby, isn’t the real Alex’s number. It’s a fake.” “What? How can that be?” I can feel the tension knotting up in my stomach, making me feel almost sick. “I’m so stupid. I must have clicked the wrong link,” Karl confesses, showing us his phone screen where a website that looks eerily similar to a locally renowned journalism site is displayed. “I found the number here. It looks like the real site, doesn’t it?” I squint at the screen. “Yeah, it does. But if there’s a real Alex out there, then who the hell is she?”

“No pressure, then.” Corvin arched a brow. “You’re already under it. You just keep pretending you’re not.” Silence stretched between us, heavy with things I didn’t want named. “What happens,” I asked finally, “if the Alpha rejects the bond?” Corvin didn’t answer right away. He stared into his mug, jaw tightening. “Then the fire looks elsewhere,” he said. “And gods help anyone standing in its path.” My wolf snarled uneasily. I stood, heart pounding. “You’re saying she’s dangerous.”

Nowhere to hide. I stared at the notification on the crystal, my hands shaking. On the Alliance network, those fake visions were spreading like wildfire. Every wolf in the Northern Territory could see "me" in those "intimate" moments with other Alphas.

" Saying that to a guy with his kind of presence took guts, but I stayed calm. Maybe it was my job that gave me a confident vibe. He kept watching me with those blue eyes, and I couldn't read the look in them. After a moment, his lips curved into a small smirk. "I'm Todd. I'm... Age doesn't really matter to us. I'm the Alpha of the Thunder Pack. And when it comes to money. well, the forests and mountains of Northlane are mine." I just stared at him. What? Pack? Alpha? Northlane's forests? Was this some elaborate joke? Or was he roleplaying something? Guys on blind dates usually had one or two red flags, but this was next-level strange. Maybe he was delusional? Or he was some kind of performa

“Stop the search in Malaysia. It was compromised from the start. Go to the Werewolf Media Network website now. Look for the banner headline, burgundy and silver.” There was a heavy pause on the line. I could hear the tap of his fingers on a keyboard, followed by a sharp intake of breath. “Alpha… I see it. Luna Anna? Mated to Vincent? This… this has to be some kind of deep fake or political propaganda,” Jax stammered, his professional composure briefly cracking under the weight of the news.

“Send them back.” Back where? Through the wall they broke? To a Tree that wants a crown on my head? “I can’t,” I say. Honest. “They won’t go.” “Then make them.” His claws are out. Not at me. Not yet. “You’re still my Luna. Act like it.” Luna. Not Mother. He’s drawing the line. Alistair pushes to his knees. The camera’s dead, but he’s smiling. “This is better live anyway. The Alpha King versus his Hollow Queen. D.C. will eat it up.”

It was a digital mirage, a fake network designed to lure Alistair into a position where he would be forced to authenticate his own location. ​"He’s biting," Elena whispered, her hands flying across the keyboard. "He’s rerouting his primary control signal to the fake node. He’s coming online."

"It’s a deepfake! AI generated! The girl is a hacker! She manipulated the feed!" "The metadata is immutable," Altair said calmly. He tapped the table. The hologram shifted to show a forensic banking trail. "This is a live view of your offshore shell company in the Cayman Islands, Marcus. As you can see, the three billion credits entered your account at 08:45 this morning." On the screen, the balance flashed: +3,000,000,000. Then, below it, a command line appeared. > INITIATING REFUND... > PROCESSING...

The older man stands tall and commanding beside her. “What happened to my son?” the woman asks with a trembling voice. I swallow hard, my throat still tight. “I found him on the beach, severely injured with silver weapons in his neck and shoulder, plus a serious head wound. I did everything I could. He is stable now.” They both look at me with deep gratitude. “You saved the Alpha’s life,” the man says. “Thank you, Doctor.” Alpha? The word lands heavily. This is Jethro Northcutt — the reclusive, feared Alpha of the CreationMoon Pack. The one whispered about in hushed tones. He looks so young and heartbreakingly handsome lying there, nothing like the cruel figure in the rumors.