Mutants At Table 9

Meet Hera Julius, popularly known as the daughter of the NightWalker pack's traitor, but she's far from your typical damsel in distress. With her beauty and fierce spirit, she's a force to be reckoned with. But when she publicly rejects Alpha Lucien, she sets off a chain of events that will test her strength like never before. Just like other Alphas, Lucien's ego is crushed by Hera's rejection. He vows to make Hera pay, but how far will he go to make her suffer? Fate takes a sharp turn, sparing Hera from the pack's wrath after being accused of a murder she didn't commit. She's handed over to Lycan Damien as his breeder, with a precarious deal on the table threatening her life. Can she convince Damien to break the deal, despite his icy demeanor? What if there's more to the situation than meets the eye, particularly given her position as his breeder?

Without Kaelen's knowledge, I had his little plaything sent out of North America. That same night, he cast a blood-vine curse on my parents, banishing them to the wilds—a wasteland prowled by rogues. He was going to trade my parents' lives for the whereabouts of his plaything. Kaelen pushed a communication crystal in front of me. Inside it, my parents were ensnared by blood-red vines, the thorns digging deep into their flesh. Drops of dark crimson blood fell, one by one, onto the barren earth. A countdown timer pulsed in stark red digits on their chests. 23:59:59 23:59:58 He sat across from me, a black suit tailored to perfection molded to his lean, powerful frame. His long fingers tapped a light, steady rhythm on the solid wood table, as if he were waiting for a trivial business deal to close. "Estelle, you have twenty-four hours." His voice was low and calm, laced with a venomous tenderness. "Tell me, where did you send Cassandra?"

Isadora didn’t want to come to Ashwyck Academy. It wasn’t the haunting towers or the iron gates that unnerved her. It wasn’t the students—dark, beautiful, terrifying things cloaked in magic and menace. It was what it meant. Coming here was a last resort. A whispered admission from her parents that something was wrong with her. That despite being born of a temptress and a mind-bending killer, despite all the bloodlines and rituals and whispered prophecies—Isadora was still painfully, tragically human. She was quiet, clever, and careful. Not powerful. Not wicked. Not like the others. Her parents called it “late blooming.” The High Table called it “defective.” But no one said it out loud. Instead, they tucked her into Ashwyck like a final gamble and hoped the academy could awaken whatever dark inheritance slumbered beneath her skin. She hadn’t wanted to come. She still doesn’t belong. But Ashwyck has its own secrets. And Isadora is about to discover that the parts of her she’s most afraid of are the ones they’ve been waiting for.

“Sign it.” The divorce papers slid across the table, along with the pieces of my heart. I married Shawn Black against my family’s wishes believing his love could survive anything. I was wrong. When his ex came back, I became invisible. And the man I gave everything to walked away without looking back. One druken night, lost and heartbroken, I met him Slade Knight, the reclusive billionaire everyone feared. Cold. Mysterious. Untouchable. He offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse. A marriage built on lies, meant to destroy the man who broke me. But fate had other plans. Because before I ever said “I do,” I was already carrying his child. Now, trapped between revenge and forbidden desire, I’m learning that the most dangerous thing about Slade Knight isn’t his power… It’s the way he makes me wish the lie was real

"Meet my sons, Mia. Sons, meet Mia, your soon-to-be step-sister." Then three tall, sturdy, muscular men joined us at the table and I had no doubt that they were my step-brothers. They looked just like their father. I gasped, shrinking in fear as I remembered where I had met them. Quinn, Jack and John, the triplets of misery in my high school life. I would be a fool if I ended up liking the boys who had bullied me and treated me like I wasn't worth . They are different at this time from the wolves in my dream. They are playing the role of a gentle older brother. I heard that they were in the Navy and I must admit that was where fitted them. I hoped that they met with men who were stronger than they were who could give them a taste of their own medicine and bully them, just as they had bullied me. Later, they claimed that I was their mate. "Keep it a secret from our parents, okay? We'll cherish you, Sis."

I had become the Luna of the pack. Mom called it a blessing. She said I'd married up, and that I should bring my sister, Ruby, into the same circles. Ruby was already scheming for a noble match. That was the whole point of her come-of-age celebration. I hated all the schemes. And the lilies on the table made it hard to breathe. My throat began to swell. My chest tightened. I realized I was allergic But I couldn't rest. "Bring Ruby around. Say hello to the wealthy families. You're the Luna. They'll treat you with respect," Mom said. I stayed. The wine she handed me made things worse. And my pampered sister, out of jealousy, forced an handful of allergy medicine down my throat. It was the kind forbidden for pregnant women. And I was six months carrying a wolf pup. In tearing, gut-wrenching pain, my pup left me. Mom cried again and again, begging for forgiveness. I pulled my hand away. Whatever love I had for her was gone.

As soon as my husband sat at the dining table, he couldn't stop himself from talking. The humiliations of my school days had become his favorite entertainment, served up to his drinking buddies like appetizers. "Back then, she got her clothes torn off in the bathroom, beaten so badly she crawled on the ground like a dog, too terrified to make a sound. If it weren’t for my kindness—" That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him I wanted a divorce. He laughed it off, utterly unbothered. "Seriously? It’s just a joke! That was ages ago. You’re way too uptight—it’s just for a laugh, right?" For a laugh? Was I the only one with a past? Did he think he was untouchable? Maybe I should tell a few embarrassing stories about his precious childhood sweetheart. Fine. If it’s all about “fun,” I hoped his sweetheart found it equally hilarious when her turn came.

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.

Under the Moon Goddess, I was once the happiest Luna of the Black Pack. Alpha Mike cherished me, cradled me in his palms, and bestowed upon me a name and glory. But on that day— I lay on the operating table as he slit open my abdomen himself, offering my liver to his white moonlight, Lina. My husband held Lina’s hand, whispering tenderly in her ear: "Don’t be afraid. Anna’s life is worthless—yours is the one that matters." As the anesthesia wore off, agony seared through me. The doctor gasped: "She’s in her differentiation phase! Forcing the surgery will cripple her for life!" Yet Mike didn’t even glance back, leaving with Lina in his arms: "Just an Omega. Saving you is her privilege." Later, I knelt before the witch Jery, trading all my memories for freedom. When Mike stormed into the shop, roaring at my amnesiac, bubble-blowing self— I shrank into the witch’s arms, trembling: "Sister… who is this madman?" His eyes burned crimson as he tore our contract to shreds.

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.