Female Pov

Zoe Petridis: I had hoped to find my mate on this year-long pack ambassador trip with my papa and brother. I was prepared for what I thought was everything until our trip to the Ironfur Pack in the mountains of New York. I don't need to turn Gunnar and Henrik Kilbourn to stone. They are already made from carved granite. And holy Goddess, they are both mine!? Too bad they seem to think I'm giving up my Beta title to live on this cold mountain just because they are the Alpha's brothers. Gunnar and Henrik Kilbourn: We're the youngest of eight children. Our only brother is Alpha, and he already has a son. So we're less than spare heirs. We didn't care when our brother told us to be on our best behavior for visiting foreign Betas. During the masked event, we both scented our mate. To our surprise, we were smelling the same female… Zoe Petridis. But she seems to think we ought to go to her pack because she's a Beta. The female moves to the male's pack. That's how we were raised.

"I, Charlotte Jane Attwood of the Crimson Moon Pack, reject you, Knox and Kane Maddox, as my mates and sever my bond to you both and your pack!" I recited, my eyes dancing with my unspoken pain seeing my mates entwined together with a female! A female who was not me! Shaking my head of the tears I felt threatening to fall from my icy hues. I straightened and waited for them to accept my rejection! But the words that left their lips left me stunned. "I, Knox Maddox and Alpha to the Crimson moon pack refuse to accept your rejection!" He snarled, slipping from the bed, naked and unashamed to step into me, the female sprawled out on the bed forgotten. Kane was quick on his heels, the pair caging me in a wall of muscle and testosterone. "You belong to us, Lottie! I, Kane Maddox, Alpha of the Crimson Moon Pack, refuse to accept your rejection." "Ours!" Knox repeated anger swimming in his baby blues. *** Follow the story of Charlotte, Knox and Kane as they try to find their footing in a cruel world filled with betrayal, heartbreak and secret obsessions that threaten to destroy the bonds of brotherhood and love!

Melia Kingston is one of three heirs destined to become the high priestess of her witch coven. Until a mysterious Alpha shows up at her birthday, demanding that she return with him to take her rightful place as his pack's next Female Alpha. Can Melia and her sisters not only navigate but lead two separate worlds? Will they face their fears and grow into the leaders their people need them to be? Even if that means drowning in the blood and secrets of their ancestors?

Tristan Moreno and I are asked when we're getting married when we attend a class reunion. "We're undecided." "1st of October." Our answers come simultaneously. His head shoots up, and he looks at me with anger and disbelief. I ignore him and explain to my classmates, "I'm getting married on the 1st of October. You're all invited." I know what Tristan wants to ask me. He and I have dated for eight years, but he's never discussed marriage with me. He drags me to a corner, looking furious. "Didn't we agree to put marriage on hold? Do you take pleasure in forcing me into this?" I pry his fingers off my wrist and say, "You can put it on hold for as long as you want. That doesn't stop me from getting married." He's long since gotten bored of me—he's found a younger woman but thinks he's done well in keeping it a secret. Fortunately, he's not the man I'm marrying.

I've been in love for six years, but my wedding has been called off 99 times by the man who claims to love me most, the mafia boss, Daniel Reed. The first time is on a private island off the coast of Sorellia. He promises me a secret wedding. But an hour before the ceremony, he gets a call saying that his new assistant, Emily Jennings, has been taken by a rival family. Without a word, he leaves me behind and sails off into the night. The second time, we're standing at the altar, exchanging vows. His underboss then leans in and whispers, "Emily's in trouble." Daniel tears off his boutonniere and walks out without looking back. Emily has been kidnapped again—this time, near the border district. He leads an armed raid that very night while I'm left behind, becoming the laughingstock in the mafia's VIP lounges. No matter when I schedule the wedding, Emily always ends up in danger. And Daniel always runs to her without hesitation. Eventually, I realize I will never win against the reckless Gen Z assistant who constantly drags him into chaos. After the 99th cancellation, I decide to break up with him and disappear from Valemont. I move out overnight, erase every trace of myself, leaving nothing behind. But I never expect him to go completely mad. He shuts down the ports, searches every villa, and unleashes his entire family's intelligence network just to find me. His eyes burn red like a wild animal on the edge of collapse. "Elara," he growls, "just give me one more chance."

I'm traveling through my pack when some Rogues ambush me. They chase me without mercy. I scream for Grayson Atwell, my Alpha mate, through the mind-link. But he shuts me out, muttering something about being "busy with pack affairs". I force down my fear and run, but they catch me anyway. Just as the silver knife grazes my throat, Vidar Mallory, the guard captain, bursts in. He drives the Rogues back and takes me to the hospital. Lying in the hospital bed, I overhear Vidar talking to his men by accident. "Freya is carrying a seven-month-old pup. How could Grayson abandon her just to take care of Bella's pup?" "Bella's pup had a fever last night. Grayson stayed at the hospital the whole night." My heart shatters. Even the pup I fought so hard to conceive was lost in the accident. I decided to leave and take on an entry-level healer position at a hospital in another pack. But after I'm gone, Grayson loses his mind searching for me.

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

Philip was rescued from rogue wolves by Nick, who died protecting him. After that, Philip took in Nick's mate, Laila, and their pup, Ray, took care of them like they were his own. For the sake of Laila and Ray, he kept asking me to compromise—again and again. Philip left me alone on our wedding anniversary to celebrate Ray's birthday. He gave Ray my Marking ring to play with, like it was a toy. Even at the annual family gathering, he insisted on bringing them along. The final straw came when he asked me to give something up—again. He wanted me to switch my first-class cruise ship ticket with Laila's economy seat. I felt exhausted. I was done. I was ready to walk away from this five-year marriage.

I accidentally stumbled upon numerous explicit videos on my husband's computer while tidying up his desk. The videos showed him in bed with my unmarried best friend. The relationship between my husband and me had been platonic ever since I gave birth 40 years ago. His reason was that he was no longer capable of physical intimacy. Now, it felt like my entire life had been a sham, despite all my efforts for my family.

Two years ago, as a graduate of Werewolf Medical School, I volunteered to go to the most remote and poorest pack, as it had always been my dream to help werewolf patients in need. I heard from my teacher that the werewolves in the Rogue Pack were the poorest and that their living conditions were the worst. Most of the werewolves there were old and weak, so I volunteered to go to that pack as soon as I graduated. After I arrived, I helped them build an infirmary and even set up a blood station. Every year, I led them in voluntary blood donations. But one time—right after I had taken a short break following a blood donation—they turned on me. They slandered me, calling me a selfish and heartless healer. Worse still, they accused me of faking illness, claiming I was lying comfortably in bed while patients were dying—refusing to lift a finger to save them. Not only that, they stormed into the infirmary, seized all my herbs and equipment, and completely trashed the place I had built for them with my own hands. Recalling the days I had spent day and night healing them—only to see my infirmary destroyed and my dream shattered—I let out a bitter smile. I picked up the phone and called the dean of my home pack. "I'm ready to return," I said. "I want to serve the patients in our own pack." Then, without a trace of regret, I left that place behind. However, after I gave up, the whole pack regretted it and begged me to return.