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My husband, Steve Malone, thinks of himself as a highly-educated person. Not only that, but he's also very uninterested in physical intimacy. When we go to bed every night, we have to sleep with a bowl of water between us. In fact, Steve refuses to let me touch him at all. But on the day he returns from the volunteer teaching program in the countryside, I discover a pair of pantyhose all tangled up in his clothes. Upon hearing my question, Steve maintains his cool facade as he explains, "This is contraband that I've confiscated from a student." I never respond to Steve. Instead, I get in contact with the female teacher, Rebecca Cramer, who has gone teaching with Steve earlier. From the other end of the line, Rebecca's sarcastic voice drifts over. "Your husband sure is unstoppable, Audrey. He couldn't resist kneeling in the pig sty while licking the dead skin off that Paige widow's feet. No one could stop him at all. "I heard that Paige even intends to give birth to a child for him. They went at it once per day, you know. I think you should head over here and witness everything for yourself." As soon as I end the call, I contact my lawyer right away and prepare to file for a divorce. This time, I'm hell-bent on ending things with Steve.

I knew my husband, Giovanni Rossini, had done it. He had stolen his dead twin brother's identity and faked his own death. And I said nothing. In my last life, he had discarded me and our daughter, Natalia, for his mistress, Katrina Moretti. My mother-in-law, Antonietta, called us trash and forced my five-year-old to peel olives until her small hands blistered. I knelt and begged for money to buy medicine. Giovanni only held Katrina and laughed. In the end, Natalia and I froze and starved to death. Even as we died, Katrina's mocking voice still rang in my ears. Everyone watched with cold eyes. They closed ranks, shifted the blame onto me, and shoved us toward a dead end with no escape. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the exact moment they carried Marco's body into the warehouse. This time, I wouldn't let anyone destroy us. I would make them pay twice over for everything they had done to me and my daughter.

I was different from the others in my pack. My wolf could hear the truths hidden deep in someone’s heart. Whenever someone lied, she would immediately whisper their real thoughts to me. During the two years I was with Jace, my wolf stayed silent. I knew his love for me was real. But on the day before our marking ceremony, my wolf finally spoke. "I need to stall Leah tomorrow. I have to mark Elena." "Elena's pregnant. She has to be marked to be accepted by the pack. Leah loves me too much to blame me." My hand tightened around the pregnancy test tucked deep in my bag. A cold dread swept over me. Jace, I was pregnant too. But I wouldn't tell you. I played along with his plan, pretending I didn't know the truth. I let him make Elena his mate, father to her pup. After their ceremony, all he'd find was the discarded pregnancy test I left behind. His heir and I would be gone from his world—forever.

Sepharine cared for Draven, the crippled son of an Alpha, for three long years. After painstakingly helping him regain his strength, he scorned her—for she was merely a lowly maid, unworthy of an Alpha's heir. Heartbroken, Sepharine left the pack. Only after losing her did Draven realize the depth of his feelings for her.

Seven years ago, I signed a mate contract as Luna. For my mother’s dying wish and for the Pack’s stability, I personally pushed a man with nothing to his name onto the Alpha throne. I held the Pack together for him, expanded our businesses, and handled the filthy negotiations and the deals no one wanted to see in the light. Everyone said— I was calm, I was formidable, I was qualified. Just… not much like a “gentle mate.” Until that day. I stood in the bedroom and watched my Alpha husband lay his hand over my paralyzed stepsister’s slightly rounded belly. They told me it was for the greater good of the Pack. That child would be registered under my name. He would call me Mother. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just waited for the seven-year term to hit its end and activated the trust clause my mother left behind. Accounts frozen. Capital withdrawn. The wolf empire I built with my own hands collapsed overnight. By the time he knelt in the ruins and finally understood what he’d lost— I had already taken back my mother’s last name, dissolved the mate bond, and stepped onto a new territory.

Sawyer Patterson intended to leave me again for his childhood sweetheart, Mathilde Payne. We'd been together for ten years, and this was our seventh engagement party. For the previous six times, Mathilde always had some kind of emergency. This time, I wasn't going to let him go. "We're about to exchange rings. It won't take long. She's just got a slight fever. It's not a big deal if you go later, right?" Sawyer lost it. "Can you stop making a scene? Mathilde has always been frail. We've been together for ten years. We can do without a ceremony." He walked out, leaving me behind with a broken heart. This time, I was truly done with him.

Tonight was the Luna ceremony of Michelle Wright, a pure Alpha descendant. The one who personally placed the Luna crown on her head was Ronan Black, the Alpha of the Sacred Wolf Pack, who had shared my bed for five years. And I, reduced to an Omega, stood like an abandoned spirit in the darkest corner of the altar. To humiliate me, Michelle poured the pure Alpha blood that symbolized honor straight over my body. She accused me of being consumed by jealousy, pointing to a wound she had cut with a silver blade. She even fabricated false evidence, claiming I had consorted with rogues and betrayed the pack. As the Stone of Reckoning displayed my name and the order of exile, and the crowd prepared to drag me away, I lifted my gaze. "Ronan, did you ever consider that your precious Luna might be a fraud who stole my bloodline and claimed it as her own?"

In my tenth year of being the Luna of the Nocturne pack, the first love of my mate, Alpha Stellan Caldwell, returns to the pack. With a bouquet of dead wolfsbane in her hands, Nigella Starveil barges into the anniversary of the mate-bonding ceremony between Stellan and me. "Stellan, I still remember you telling me that you're willing to endure all types of poison in the world just for my sake. Does that promise still count?" Before Nigella finishes her sentence, Stellan, my powerful yet distant Alpha, feels his expression change instantly. He doesn't even bother sparing me a glance. All he sees is the bouquet of dead flowers that are equally deadly to Nigella. Stellan rushes up to Nigella and swipes the bouquet out of her hands roughly, not caring about the fact that everyone is staring at him right now. Silence befalls the hall instantly. From my position behind Stellan, I know right away that I've been reduced to the biggest laughingstock in the Northern Territories. The fact that Stellan doesn't hesitate to protect Nigella becomes the biggest insult that humiliates me to no end. It turns out that ten years of companionship and shared struggles are nothing compared to the bouquet of dead wolfsbane in Nigella's hands. After that, Nigella shoots me a smug and contemptuous look while rubbing her reddened wrist. "Do you see now? This is proof that he loves me. You've already tried to do your part as the breeding machine, so you can now retire from your position." In the past, Stellan had barged into the forbidden lands in search of Nigella. He almost got shredded into a thousand pieces there. But now, he's still willing to humiliate me in public just for her sake.

In the Sinclair pack, I had always been different. Years ago, my grandfather saved the Elder’s life. To repay that debt, the Elder promised that one of his grandsons would become my mate. In my first life, on the night of the Blood Moon, he asked me, “Evelyn, who will you choose?” Blushing, I pointed to the brightest star of the tribe, Andrew Sinclair. But after our wedding, he kept me at a distance. I was confused—until one night, I opened the wrong door. Andrew was on one knee, clutching my cousin Clara’s portrait as if it were his lifeline. His body moved in a way that made my heart twist. My world collapsed. He had never loved me. His heart—his desire—had always belonged to her. Darkness swallowed me, body and soul. My husband lied to me and betrayed the oath we had sworn to the Moon Goddess. The cruel truth broke me, and sickness followed. I died with his child inside me—alone. But the moon gave me another chance. I woke again on that same night. The Elder smiled down at me. Four portraits lay before him. “Evelyn, tonight is your twenty-first rite. Who will you choose?” “You’ve always chased Andrew,” he said kindly. “It must be him—” “No!” The hall fell silent. “Grandfather… I don’t want Andrew.” In panic, I snatched a portrait. “I want him!” The boy on the page wore black. His skin was pale, his lips curved in a mad, crooked smile. William Sinclair. The sick wolf. The one everyone mocked. But I remembered how he had tried to help me find a good doctor. He was the only one who had cared about me when I was dying. And yes—this time, I chose him.

My stepbrother hated me. He hated me and my mom for coming into his life, for ruining what he believed was his perfect family. Whenever he saw me, his face would turn cold, and he would tell me how disgusting I was, asking cruelly when I was going to die. In the end, I gave him what he wanted. But then he regretted it. He cried, begging me to come back, saying he never should have broken up with me and never should have treated me so cruelly. But I was already dead. Who was he putting on this show of affection for now?