Panic

In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt. All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables. The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me. I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn't answer. He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter. Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone. A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster. The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs. The one who'd orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie. Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, "Forget it. It's handled." Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere. But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar. His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead. "This is for family traitors," he hissed, his voice pure venom. "The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch's prize!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right in the middle of the fire and the blood. This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room. And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.

SAVAGE LOVE GENRE: Romance By, Tamar writes PROLOGUE Amour sniffed back her tears as she watched the scene before her. Never in her life would she have imagined getting herself in this situation she currently was. It felt like a never ending nightmare. The sound of footsteps was what rented the room, it was coming from a tall figure, his gaze never left the man that was tied down on a chair with both his hands chained down on the table The figure held a sharp silver colored knife in his hand, twirling as if it was his play toy, a vicious smirk playing on his lips Every step he took instilled fear and panic inside the man that was tied down. “Boss please forgive me! I was drunk so I thought she was one of the clan's whóre I swear I didn't know she was yours" The man begged like his life depended on it. "Which hand did you use to touch her" Aurelio spoke calmly. "My.. My.. L-Left-" He wasn't chanced to finish his sentence when Aurelio cut off his left hand completely. Blood splashed on his cheek as it began bumping out of the man's hand. "Aargh!!!" The agonizing cry from the man echoed in the room as he peed on himself. Aurelio turned to Amour who looked horrified with the scene she just witnessed. His hands found his way to her neck and he gripped it tightly, bringing her face close to his so he could have a clear view of the terrified look on her face. "This Is just the highest level of my kindness compared to what I can do. Remember this, you're mine! Mine to touch, mine to f**k, mine to do whatever I want with... No one else... But me"

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

“ Take off your robes,” Ava heard the command and the other slaves obeyed almost immediately. They took off their robes, and their almost naked body came into view except for the tiny little lace that covered nothing but their nipples and balls. The male slave's dick dangled and Ava looked away, still clutching her robe to herself. How could she undress in front of this multitude? What kind of humiliation was this? The audience erupted into murmurs, indecent comments flying from every corner. “ Steele, you slave seemed to be a disobedient one,” Ava heard the man's stern words and she turned to see Jacob’s stern gaze on her. She gulped and slowly let go of her robe. It fell to the ground and the audience gasped at the sight of her nakedness. Her hands clenched into fists by her side, resisting the urge to pick her robe from the floor and cover herself from their lustful eyes. “ Shit! How did Jacob get himself such a perfect slave?” Panic gripped Ava. No. It cannot be what she is thinking. She wasn't about to fuck these people. No. Jacob cannot make her do this. I was only his tool for power and revenge. I should have known he was no ordinary man but knowing wouldn't have changed anything. I was helpless, trapped with no choice and he was my savior from the Slave den back then. My hatred for him wouldn’t have allowed me to go with someone else. It’s not like I had a choice to choose my buyer. He was the highest bidder and I’m a commodity he bought from an illegal market. A commodity he has great plans for. His tool for power and revenge but I hate that my heart palpates for him.

As a male Omega, stepping onto the ice was never supposed to be my dream. Hockey belonged to Alphas—strong, dominant, born to conquer both the rink and everyone on it. Omegas like me were meant to stay hidden, protected, controlled. But hiding had never been enough. The World Hockey Academy was the only place powerful enough to shield my identity, the only place my adoptive father—its Dean—believed I could survive. To the public, it was an elite sports academy. To those like me, it was a prison disguised as opportunity. To them… it was Alpha Academy. From the moment I arrived, I swallowed suppressants like oxygen. Every breath had to be measured. Every movement controlled. A single slip—one flare of Omega scent—and I would be exposed. I had to skate like an Alpha. Fight like an Alpha. Bleed like one. On the ice, weakness wasn’t forgiven. That was when I noticed him. The strongest Alpha in the academy. The storm everyone feared. His presence alone made my knees weaken, my instincts scream in panic and hunger all at once. His golden eyes tracked me every time I touched the puck, sharp and suspicious, as if he already sensed something was wrong. During practice, we crashed into each other. The impact sent us both sprawling across the ice—but it was his hand gripping my jersey, his scent crashing over me, that shattered my control. My suppressants burned uselessly in my veins. His lips curved slowly, dangerously, as he leaned close enough for his breath to brush my ear. “Funny,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “For an Alpha… you smell like prey.” My heart slammed against my ribs. If he figured it out, everything would end. And yet— my Omega instincts whispered something far worse. I wanted him closer.

“What made you think you had the right,” he asked softly, dangerously, “to question me, little omega?” Her pulse thundered in her skin, loud enough she was sure he could hear it. Hunter inhaled. His eyes darkened. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Such a dirty little vixen,” he murmured slowly. “I can smell your arousal.” Her head shook frantically, panic flooding her features. “No— I—” “I’m here asking a question,” he continued, his voice low and intimate, “and you’re getting aroused?” ****. Athena had always been the outcast of her pack, the omega with a weak wolf and no value. Her pack used her, beat her and worked her like a slave. And when her fated mate, the Alpha’s younger brother rejected her, whatever remained of her spirit shattered. She became invisible. But her life took an even darker turn the day she was kidnapped and auctioned off to a beta of black moon territory as an offer to the most feared being in all the packs—THE CURSED LYCAN KING. A dragon and lycan hybrid. Hunter, the Cursed King, needed a breeder. Every woman in the realm feared even hearing his name, terrified of the curse that lived within him. So when an omega, a weak wolf was offered to him, he cursed the moment his beta was ever born. She was too fragile and too breakable that carrying his child could very well kill her. What he didn’t know was that Athena was the last Silver Wolf alive. And the moment his teeth grazed her skin, her power exploded to life. Now, enemies and Alphas are plotting. And Hunter, the monster everyone fears finds himself willing to burn kingdoms to nothing in order to protect the one woman he never expected to want…

I stared down at the contract, a wave of defiance bubbling up in me. I turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. "I never asked for your help," I said, "I would've found a way to save my mother on my own. You may think you own me, but I'd rather die than marry you." A slow smile crept across his face, a smug, knowing look that sent a chill down my spine. He knew exactly what I was thinking, as if my resistance only entertained him. "Look at me," he commanded. I reluctantly turned back, locking eyes with him. His face had shifted, his expression darkened, and for the first time, true fury was etched in his eyes. "I’ll count to ten," he said, "If that contract isn’t signed by the time I reach ten, I’ll make the same call I made to pay those bills. Only this time, the instructions will be different. Your mother... your sister…they’ll both be gone." He took a breath, settling back as if the threat were a mere matter of routine. "So… ONE!!" I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Could he be bluffing? No, I'd seen him kill before, seen how casually he turned life and death into sports. "FOUR," he counted. My hands started to shake. What could I do? If I signed, I'd be bound to him forever, trapped as his wife. But if I didn’t... my mother and sister’s lives hung in the balance. "SEVEN." I closed my eyes, fighting the panic rising in my chest. He wouldn’t do it, I told myself. He couldn’t be that monstrous. But even as I thought it, the doubt crept in. I wasn’t sure. Then, he hit "TEN" himself

On Independence Day, I was on my way to my boyfriend's house when a car slammed into me. The stretch of road was deserted. The collision jammed my door shut, and the acrid smell of gasoline filled the air. My car was about to explode. I scrambled for the emergency hammer, only to find it had been swapped out for a pink toy mallet. Panic rising in my chest, I dialed my boyfriend's number. To my horror, his ringtone sounded from the very car that had crashed into me. He stepped out, arm wrapped around his childhood sweetheart. She put on a pitiful face, tears in her eyes. "Oh no, I'm so clumsy. It's my first time driving, and I hit someone." When my boyfriend realized the victim was me, he didn't hesitate to console her. "Don't worry. She must have collided with you on purpose." I pounded on the window, desperate. "Nick! The emergency hammer's been switched out. Help me get out of here!" His childhood sweetheart lit up with a mischievous smile. "Katie, I swapped it! Isn't the pink hammer super cute?" Disgust flickered across Nick's face. "It's just a little crash. Get out on your own." By now, thick smoke was pouring into the car, and the heat was searing my lungs. I begged him to save me. But the girl only giggled, covering her nose in mock annoyance. "Katie, why are you cooking in there? The smoke is awful." Then she patted her stomach. "Oops, my tummy is rumbling. Nick, let's go home and eat." He tightened his hold around her and turned to leave. "Enough already. Stop pretending. My parents are waiting for us at home." Just as suffocation closed in on me, I slammed my hand against the car's emergency distress button.

My stepmother, Mary, hated me to the bone. All because when I was little, I went to a classmate’s house to play and forgot to close the courtyard gate. Her son ran onto the road and was hit to death by a car. My father loved my younger brother the most. After learning what happened, he was heartbroken. “Were you jealous of your brother? That’s why you deliberately left the gate open?” I desperately explained that I had closed the gate, but Dad didn’t believe me. He locked me in the basement and raised me like a dog for the rest of my life. Until one day, when Dad went on a business trip, Mary didn’t give me any food for three days. Starving, I crawled upstairs to the kitchen to look for something to eat. That was when I saw Mary sitting on a man’s lap, saying softly, “If you hadn’t forgotten to close the gate back then, I wouldn’t be living in fear every day of my husband finding out… We’re the ones who killed Ethan.” Only then did I understand that I wasn’t the one who had forgotten to close the gate and caused my brother to run outside, but my stepmother’s lover. Just as I was about to sneak back to the basement, my stepmother noticed me. “What did you hear? No! I can’t let your father find out that I killed our own son!” In a panic, she grabbed me and threw me down the stairs, killing me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the car hit my brother. I blinked my innocent, childlike eyes and pointed upstairs, speaking in a soft, baby voice, “Dad, I closed the gate. It was the man in Mom’s bedroom who didn’t!”

" You're mine, little bird." My blood thrummed loudly in my ears as I crawled away from him on the floor. With long strides, he was already standing above me. He pulled me up and covered my mouth with his palm. Panic set in, my limbs shaking in terror. "You need a reminder of who you belong to." His mismatched eyes boring into mine. I shook my head, violently, tears wetting his hand over my mouth. He brought the knife to my face." Tell your lover, Zayden, not to get involved. I already graced you with the wedding. Marry him, but 7 days after the wedding, come back to Denver, where you belong." I nodded desperately, hoping he wouldn't hurt me. " I'll leave a souvenir." He chuckled and then dug the pocket knife into my side. **** Lillain's life is a delicate mess. Having survived her traumatic childhood by suppressing her memories, she has to do everything to survive, which includes agreeing to a contract marriage with her boss to have access to his wealth. Engage to Enigmatic and wealthy Zayden, she hides a dark secret. She's been threatened by a mysterious figure from her past. Her past was coming back to haunt her. Zayden eventually discovers her secrets and confronts her. But Lillian can't confide in him - she's trapped in a web of fear and trauma, leaving Zayden devastated with the fear of losing her. The biggest shock comes when the mysterious figure appears, his menacing presence threatening to destroy Lillian's carefully constructed plans. With her world spinning out of control, Lillian must make a choice: confront her demons or risk losing everything including the man she had fallen in love with. But Little did she know that she wasn't the only one keeping secrets. Zayden had secrets, secrets darker than hers.