Muscle Growth

In October 2025, an explosion occurs at a remote lab. An unidentified substance is leaked, and the virus makes people go insane. Anyone who is bitten by these rabid creatures becomes one of them. It's like the zombies people see in movies and video games. On the first day of the explosion, my five-year-old, Joyce Fairfield, is still at kindergarten. I risk my life to hurry there, but I can't even find her corpse when I arrive. I can only look at the surveillance footage to see her face, which is ashen with fear. I also see her mouth, "Mommy!" 15 days after the explosion, I finally traverse the city and get to my mother's home. However, all that welcomes me is a destroyed apartment and blood everywhere. 20 days after the explosion, my husband, Emmett Fairfield, calls me one last time from his office, which zombies have surrounded. He tells me not to leave the house. Less than a month after the apocalypse arrives, I lose all my family. I'm alone as I struggle to survive in this dead world. The spread of the virus triggers chaos in mankind. I exchange all my supplies to save a neighboring couple from bandits, leading them to safety in a secure zone where they can live stable lives. However, my kindness is not repaid. Three years after the explosion, the secure zone is under siege by a wave of zombies. As we retreat, my neighbors shove me underneath a car so I'll distract the zombies. Then, they make a run for it and get away. Trusted neighbors betray me. As the zombies eat away at me, I can feel death looming. All I want is to see my family again. Now, I've been reborn. I have six hours before the zombie apocalypse breaks out.

My husband, Fabian Hunt, is a neurologist. To spend the rest of his life with his colleague, Yelena Walker, he's been working day and night in the lab for the last three months. Finally, he succeeds in developing an experimental drug that can erase memories. I happen to see his tablet one day. He forgets to log out of his account, so I go through his chat history. Yelena: "Fabe, when can we finally be together without hiding?" Fabian: "Darling, just wait a little longer. Once I switch Anya's vitamin pills for the experimental drug, she'll lose her memory. After that, she'll ask for a divorce herself, and I won't have to take any blame." In an instant, I feel a chill run down my spine. So, he's willing to erase my memories of our time together just to get me to leave him. Since that's the case, I'll give the adulterous pair what they want. But when I start to forget one anniversary after another, Fabian asks me in a panic, "Anya, how can you forget everything about me?"

Every week, mt mate Alpha Bruce dragged a new side-chick into our bed. Right in front of me. They clawed at each other like I didn't exist. Each time felt like silver shredding through my chest, my wolf howling from the inside out. He did it to hurt me. On purpose. Over and over. Using their bodies to spit on what we used to be. Then came our ten-year anniversary banquet. He waltzed in with his side-piece—Moye. Five years he'd been screwing her. She wore my heels. My custom gown. Even the mate ring and necklace I once thought meant forever. Bruce stood there, smirking in front of the whole pack. "Don't like what she's wearing? Strip yours and hand it over. And don't bother coming to my bed tonight—she's a hundred times better." The room howled with laughter. I was the punchline. But I stood up, met his eyes, and said, "I want to break the bond." He snorted. "You've said that, what, a hundred times? I'm over it. You begged me to mark you, remember? Gave up your pride for that Luna crown." More laughter. But what none of them saw coming? This time, I was done. Done with him. Done with the Luna title. Done chasing something dead. I was ready to sever the mate bond—for real.

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

All because of Leo Cullen’s words, I gave up a place at a top-tier university in Ceres and stayed behind to retake the entrance exams with him—three times. By the fourth year, a girl arrived at our cram school, and Leo forgot the promise we made. He started skipping class, picking fights, smoking—doing everything but studying. One day, I stood at the school gate, blocking his path with a textbook in hand as he tried to ditch class. He smirked, unimpressed, and blew a bubble with his gum, letting it stick to the ends of my hair. “Naomi…,” he began, “who still cares about studying these days?” So I stopped caring and avoided him entirely. When he fooled around in the classroom, I went to the library. When he played basketball, I sat in a quiet corner with my books. Even when I craved noodles from my favorite shop, I’d scan the room first to make sure he wasn’t there. “Are you avoiding me, Naomi?” he asked later, his face in a frown. I shook my head. “Why would you think that?”

I was ten when my Omega mother mated the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. My stepbrother, Draven, never let me forget how I’d diluted their pure blood. With his silent blessing, the entire pack became a weapon to carry out his hate. During a full moon hunt, he gave the nod. That's all it took. His followers "accidentally" pushed me in front of a raging stag. I felt its antlers rip my shoulder open. He looked down at me, his golden eyes dripping with scorn. “Don’t think you’re one of us just because your mother latched onto my father. Weaklings get culled. And I’ll be the one to kick you off my land.” At his command, they'd ruin my offerings to the Moon Goddess. They shredded my coming-of-age gown with silver blades. Through it all, my mother would only look at me with shame. My stepfather, the great Alpha, just saw me as a troublesome brat. I made myself small, desperate for a scrap of kindness. But it only made me the pack outcast. Hated and completely alone. Until Draven’s best friend, Liam—the Alpha heir to the Rage River Pack—showed interest in me at the werewolf academy. For the first time ever, Draven left me alone. I thought Liam was my only light in the darkness. On my birthday, I gave myself to him completely. The next day, I overheard him talking to Draven. Draven’s voice was low, laced with venom. “Did you get the video? Of the half-blood losing control mid-fuck?” Liam chuckled. “Of course. Gotta admit, she feels amazing. So soft… a real temptation. Almost got me hooked. But just in bed. The thought of her dirty blood…If it wasn’t to help you get even, I would’ve never touched a weak-blooded Omega like her.” I clamped a hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face. My only hope was a lie. But they didn't know. I’d already applied to the Valeriana Werewolf Institute. And I wasn’t coming back.

When we were about to head to the amusement park, my Beta boyfriend, Drew, brought along a woman and her daughter. There happened to be one seat short in the car. Drew told me to get out and give my seat to the two of them. “Laura has a kid with her. Let them go first. I’ll come back for you later,” he said. I calmly stepped out and watched as the car slowly pulled away from the pack. Three hours later, they arrived at the amusement park for the fireworks and feast. When a friend asked Drew why he still hadn’t come back to get me, Drew was patiently helping Laura light a giant firework. He wasn’t in a rush at all and even said, “It’ll be fine if I pick Sienna up later. She won’t mind. I’ll coax her a bit, and she’ll stop being mad.” Anger only worked on people who cared about someone. My dad, mom, and brother never cared, and now, not even Drew cared anymore. It was time for me to leave for good.

On my 30th birthday, my boyfriend of seven years asked to meet at the City Hall. He even told me to bring my ID and wear a wedding dress. But when I showed up just as he asked, he was laughing and looked really excited. “Pay up, pay up! I told you all. No matter how embarrassing it is, Wrenna will always do what I say!” I just looked at him wordlessly. Matthew Young raised his eyebrows at me. “Come on, it was just a joke. You’re not mad, are you?” When I stayed quiet, he got annoyed. “Alright, alright. I said I’d marry you, and I will. Just not right now.” His good-for-nothing friends started laughing and making fun of me. They said I was his simp and would never get angry. And they were right. I was not angry. I did not come here today for him anyway. After everyone left, I walked into the City Hall. “Sorry I’m late. Let’s go get married.”

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

I'm already half-blind in my left eye, but Cedric Thompson forces me to donate my right cornea to his childhood sweetheart. Her parents berate me. "She's blind now! It's not like you'll die without one eye's cornea!" Cedric consoles me. "We're only taking the cornea for one eye. It won't affect anything." I'm forcibly placed under anesthesia. I lose all hope in life before my eyes slide shut. I would never have married him if I'd know he would treat me like this. He has no idea I can barely see with my left eye now.