Kira Death Mga Nobela at Kwento

Everyone in the pack envies how devoted Kingsley Laurent is to me. After getting appointed as Alpha, he turns down every she-wolf who throws herself at him and vows to wait until his position is fully secure before marking me. The mate bonding ceremony he promises is the most sacred of all, one that would place me beside him as Luna and establish our pup as his rightful heir. Kingsley openly despises my rebellious sister, Heather Johnson. His eyes harden whenever her name comes up. "Don't let your train wreck of a sister ruin our ceremony." Until one night, when I find a voice message on Heather's phone and hear his voice—hoarse, ragged with desire. "Will you shift for me tonight, baby? I want to see you in chains." While he claims he's on a business trip down south, he's actually spending the night with my sister at a couples' hotel. Over the phone, he swears his devotion to me. "If I ever betray you, may I be punished by losing you forever." At the same time, he grabs Heather by the chin and says coldly, "I will only ever have one Luna, and that's Eliza Johnson. You're just a plaything." Since he made that vow, I'll fulfill it for him. I fake my death, burn down our home, and vanish from his world with his pup growing inside me.

Lucien sent me onto the transplant table with his own hands to save the foster sister he treasured most. “Elara, this is what you owe Sylvie.” “Give her your kidney, and I’ll let you remain the Luna of this pack.” He did not know that five years ago, when the northern wolf keep caught fire, the one who carried him out of the flames had never been Sylvie. It had been me. He knew even less that I had long since reached the final stage of soul-wolf collapse. I had only forty-eight hours left. This kidney was the last thing keeping me alive. On the day of the operation, he stood outside Sylvie’s healing chamber, speaking to her softly and refusing to leave her side. Meanwhile, in the transplant room next door, my heart stopped. When news of my death reached him, he only sneered and called it another one of my tricks. Not until much later did he unfold the blood-soaked rescue record from the northern fire and see the photograph attached to it. Mine. Alpha, your Luna left one final message before she died. “She says this life is returned to you.” “In the next one, may you never meet again.” So why are you losing your mind now, Lucien? Isn’t this exactly the ending you wanted?

At his Alpha succession ceremony, Damien seated his childhood sweetheart in the Luna's chair, then dropped a mate bond severance agreement in front of me. “Once the bond's dissolved, I'll give you money. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life. One condition: stay away from Serena.” I signed without hesitation but I didn't take a cent. “Don't worry. I'll disappear from your lives for good.” That night I went home, took out the silver knife I'd already prepared, and dragged it across my wrist. Twenty-five years ago I'd crossed into this world of werewolves. For twenty-five years I'd worked to win over three protagonists, and every last attempt had failed. The Moon Goddess had told me: once this body died, I could go home, back to my parents. I lay on the cold floor and waited for the end. As my mind went hazy, I felt no fear, only a strange, giddy relief. And right as I was slipping away, I thought I heard someone screaming my name.

It was at our engagement banquet that I finally learned the truth. I wasn't the true heiress of a noble human family. I wasn't the "fated bride" destined to bear a half-blood child for the vampires. I was just the wrong baby someone had brought home from the hospital. A fake. I'd thought that Alexander, the boy who'd risked his life to drag me out of a burning house, the boy I'd grown up beside, would love me the same as always. Instead, in front of everyone, he let go of my hand and looked down at me with cold eyes. "Without that bloodline, do you really think you deserve to stand beside me?" Then he reached out and slid the engagement ring off my finger himself. He turned, and led the true heiress up to the high platform. Everyone laughed at me. The fake heiress, delusional enough to think she could marry the vampire heir. I was thrown out of the only home I'd ever known. The only kindness left to me was Alexander's, a scrap of charity that let me stay at his side as the lowest thing a vampire could keep. A blood slave. And then, later, I died in an explosion. Saving him. Alexander knelt in the blood and lost his mind, screaming at everyone around him to save me. But there was something he didn't know. I hadn't died. Later still, at a vampire banquet, he saw me again at last. I walked past him on another man's arm, smiling. And this time, it was his turn to lose his mind begging me to look back at him.

I'm kidnapped at the same time as my husband's true love. I call him on the verge of death and beg him to save me. However, he thinks I'm putting on an act and only pays the ransom for his true love. He leaves me and his brother to die. Before hanging up, he snaps, "Drop the act, Marlena! Can't you see how terrified Sue is? I'll get even with you for hiring someone to kidnap her!" It's too bad Howard Jenne will never get even with me for this. The moment he turns his back on me and his autistic brother, the kidnappers kill us.

Three years ago, my childhood sweetheart, Eleanor Carter, left me at the altar to marry Dillan Perez—the adopted son of my family. The church erupted in whispers. I became the laughingstock in a single breath. Then Victoria Brown—the aloof, formidable CEO of the Brown Group—stepped forward. "I'll marry you, Lambert," she said, her voice cutting through the wreckage of my pride. I said yes. For three years, she was the perfect wife. Gentle. Attentive. She was my salvation. But there was one thing that always hung between us like a quiet ache—we never had a child. The doctors found nothing wrong with either of us. Victoria would just smile softly and say, "It will happen when the time is right." Today, I came home early. The door to our bedroom was slightly open. I heard her voice. She was on the phone with her best friend. I didn't mean to listen. But then I heard my name. "Lambert wants a child with me," she said. "But he doesn't know I've been on birth control the whole time. That's why we never got pregnant." My blood turned cold. "As long as he has no heir," she continued, "Dillan's place in the Clark family stays secure." I stood there, frozen. My hands went cold. My heart shattered into pieces. I was just a tool to protect the man she truly cared for. I didn’t confront her. Instead, I calmly planned my death—a quiet disappearance from her world.

My mom was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her life is smooth-sailing most of the time. The only mistake she's ever made is falling for my dad. That's why she insists on finding me a husband who's the complete opposite of my dad. My dad is tall and intimidating-looking, so Mom wants someone who's short and perverted-looking. My dad is a knowledgeable and well-read man, so Mom wants a guy who has only graduated from elementary school. My dad prioritizes his moral integrity more than anything else, so Mom prefers a guy who drinks, gambles, and sleeps around. She tells me, "This type of man is easy to manipulate, unlike your father, who just divorced me out of nowhere!" It's true that the man Mom has chosen for me won't divorce me. After all, he leeches from me on top of beating me up. It's not enough to leech my money from me, it seems—he just has to take everything from me. My mom says in a righteous tone, "This is the only way that proves you're valuable to him. He won't divorce you at all." I've fought back and escaped from my husband many times. Every time I do, my mom will trick me into returning to him by hurting herself. As always, I'm greeted with another round of beating whenever I do return to him. Mom will take me to the hospital to get my injuries treated. Then, she'll say, "Hurry up and give birth to a son for him. Once you have a son, you'll be extremely valuable to your husband. He won't beat you up anymore." Today is supposed to be the day Mom takes me to the hospital to check my ovulation timing. She spends a long time calling me on the phone, yet I never pick up. After that, she sends me a few audio messages that last for 60 seconds each just to lecture me. "Beatrice Anderson, what makes you think you can just ignore my calls? The hospital check-up is for your own good! As long as you can get pregnant with a son, your husband will be wrapped around your finger! He won't divorce you after this! Why can't you understand how much I care for you?" I seriously can't understand at all. After all, I've gotten beaten to death yesterday. My corpse is cut into 28 chunks, and they are being frozen in the fridge as I speak.

My brother, Theo Sorento, died in a plane crash on his way back home just to celebrate my birthday. They never found his body—only wreckage. Ever since, my parents forced me to kneel in front of his grave every year on my birthday, demanding that I repent for surviving when he didn’t. Then came my eighteenth birthday. I realized someone was following me. Panicked, I sent a few messages asking for help. Just then, Mom called, not to check on me but to lash out. “I know exactly what you're doing. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to kneel in front of your brother’s grave! You’re a liar. Why wasn’t it you who died instead of him? You’re a walking curse!” Before my phone was smashed under a boot, the last thing I heard was the cold click of her hanging up. Then, I was cut up into pieces, and what was left of me was tossed across the city. My father, the lead forensic pathologist on my case, didn’t even recognize me. Later, Theo returned alive with his wife, whom he had eloped with eight years ago. When they found out the pile of rotting flesh was me, they all went insane.

I wake up to find the entire room shrouded in thick smoke and flames. I grab my phone and call my boyfriend, a fire captain I've been dating for five years. The phone rings seven whole times before he finally picks up. His sharp, irate voice comes through before I can get a word out. "Bella! How many times have I told you not to make false fire reports out of jealousy! You're a Warrior. Don't you feel ashamed of yourself for constantly picking fights with an Omega like Laura?" Suddenly, I hear Laura Knapp's sweet, pitiful voice on the line. "Thank you, Daniel. I'm safe because of you." As the flames spread, I have no option but to dial the emergency hotline. But the dispatcher tells me, "Sorry, ma'am, but all firefighters in your area are currently tied up. The earliest we can send help is in 30 minutes. Please hold on." I hang up with a bitter smile and see the news of a fire captain rescuing an injured pregnant woman. The flames close in around me, and just before death takes me, I send Daniel Ingram one last text. "Farewell. I wish you a happy life together."

Caleb Finley tells me he wants to have a child with me during the year when our love is at its strongest. I agree, but that very same night, I fake my death and make my escape, becoming his first love who meets an early death. Six years later, the system seeks me out, on the verge of a breakdown. "Ms. Rockworth, Mr. Finley told me to let you know that your son has just entered the operating room. Do you want to visit him?" "I never gave birth to his child," I answer calmly. The system breaks down even more. "He lost his mind and suddenly turned evil on the night you faked your death. To maintain the balance of the world, we gave him a child who has both your genes. "Now that he has completely gone insane, he told me to tell you that you must meet with him today. If you don't, he'll remove your son's oxygen tube."