Post Apocalyptic Seattle Novels & Stories

Seven years ago, Raven Sterling lost everything when her family was massacred and her pack destroyed. Soon after, she was publicly rejected by her fated mate, Ash Blackwood, Alpha of the Blackwood Pack—breaking her bond and forcing her into exile. She fled to Seattle, suppressing her wolf and rebuilding her life as a human trauma counselor, determined to forget the supernatural world. But the past never stays buried. Raven begins to experience strange, uncontrollable power—ice forming at her touch and emotions affecting the world around her. She discovers the truth: she is not just a werewolf, but a rare Starborn with Celestial Ice Magic tied to an ancient bloodline. Her awakening pulls her back into danger. Ash returns, no longer the powerful Alpha he once was, but a leader on the brink of collapse. His pack is failing, and he needs Raven to survive through a true mate bond. But forgiveness is not easily given. Meanwhile, Kade Torrent, a rival Alpha who has secretly protected Raven for years, steps forward. Unlike Ash, Kade never abandoned her—and now wants her for himself. As a hidden enemy begins hunting Starborn, the truth behind Raven’s family massacre starts to surface, revealing a deeper conspiracy tied to her bloodline. Now Raven must choose between the Alpha who broke her, the one who protected her, and the power awakening within her—before everything is destroyed.

As soon as I get off the surgical table after my miscarriage, my husband, Presley Quinn, sends me a text message. "You were ten cents short when you paid your share of the power bill this month. Transfer the money to me immediately." I can only sit on the cold bench in the hospital on my own. The anesthesia has yet to wear out, but my belly is already hurting so much that I can practically feel it constricting on itself. The next thing I know, a new post appears on my social media homepage. It's a post made by Vivienne Ashford, the intern Presley is in charge of tutoring. In the photo, Vivienne can be seen holding a bouquet of flowers folded from money bills. A bright and radiant smile blooms on her face. The four-leaf clover necklace adorning her neck is the same necklace I've seen in Presley's purchase history two days ago. The caption of the photo writes, "I don't want a lot of money. I want a ton of love instead." Only then do I remember that today is Valentine's Day as well as my fifth-year anniversary with Presley. Over the past five years, Presley and I have been splitting every single bill, down to two decimal places. If I take a shower for more than 20 minutes, Presley demands that I pay extra for the water heater's power bill. When I cook myself some supper in the middle of the night, Presley wants me to split the gas bill generated by the stove. Even when my mom is hospitalized due to kidney failure and is waiting for her surgical bills to be settled, Presley refuses to lend me a single cent. Instead, he sends me a few links leading to web loans. As I stare at the social media feed, I chuckle all of a sudden. It turns out that Presley does know how to spend money. It's just that he doesn't have the heart to spend it on me. I smile once again as I leave a like on the post. Then, I transfer the ten cents to Presley. From now on, I don't owe him any single penny.

On the same day I was admitted into the hospital for my pregnancy, my husband, Charles Page, received 108 missed calls on his phone. It was from Sue, his mentee, a girl who had cancer. I asked if he was going to pick up, and he replied impatiently, "All she does is call me all day! Doesn't she have any other family? She's so annoying." Later, that very girl posted a photo of herself on the hospital rooftop, wearing a white dress. The caption said: [If I jump down from here, will I become a butterfly in my next life? Maybe then, everyone won't hate me.] Charles only glanced at the post before chuckling mockingly. "What does she mean, turn into a butterfly? Is she delusional?" But after that, he grew visibly restless, before rushing out and not returning all night. That night, I hemorrhaged and was taken into emergency care. When the nurse asked if I wanted to keep the baby, I looked at the empty space beside me and answered calmly. "No, I don't."

At our class reunion, my husband, Calvin Vance, threw the game on purpose so his friends could "force" him to get a marriage certificate with his ex, Molly Rowan, and post it online. Everyone piled on. Calvin was already pulling out the divorce papers, practically shoving them at me. "It's just a game. Don't make a big deal out of it." I stayed quiet for a long moment. They all looked like they were waiting for me to lose it. Instead, I took the papers. "Divorce is fine. But you have to do three things for me." He agreed without hesitation and pushed me to sign. "Three things? Forget that. Three hundred, whatever. Just sign it. When we get remarried, I'll make it up to you with a huge luxury wedding." What he didn't know was that the second he chose to divorce me, my mission had already failed. The System would erase me. The only way to survive was to complete the three tasks it gave me.

I was six months pregnant when my husband, Michael Greene, shoved me off the edge of a yacht during a birthday party. Why? Because Lily Clement, his childhood sweetheart, had fallen into the water, and apparently, the yacht was too small for all three of us. After being pulled from the ocean, suffering from hypothermia and shock, I was taken to the hospital. Doctors determined that emergency surgery was necessary and required a family member's consent. However, no matter how many times they called, Michael never picked up. At the same time, lying in a hospital bed, I scrolled through Lily’s Instagram and saw the post she shared just hours earlier. It was a photo of the two of them, soaked but clinging to each other like lovers out of a movie. "Sometimes love comes from the most unexpected places. Thank you for always being there for me—quietly, selflessly, unshakably." That was all I needed. The day I was discharged, I left Michael a signed divorce agreement. If he wanted to be her knight in shining armor, I’d let him.

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

Out of the blue, I get a call from the Department of Labor. The officer tells me they received a complaint, accusing me of gender discrimination. Apparently, my treatment of the male and female employees is extremely unequal. I'm left feeling utterly bewildered. Out of compassion for my employees, I give the female employees paid leave during their periods and pregnancy. I also give the male employees the benefit of a family support allowance. I've never discriminated against anyone because of their gender, and neither have I ever mistreated any of the employees. But then, I proceed to see the social media post that has gone viral. "A certain company gives male employees an additional allowance of a thousand dollars a month! Male and female employees are given different treatment!" Having caught on right away, I call a staff meeting and announce, "All of the company benefits have been canceled. You will only receive the basic benefits listed in your employment contract." Everyone goes up in arms.

Jackson “Jack” Bennet is the new Beta of the Greenway Pack. He immediately accepts the post after graduating from the Beta course, a four-year training program at the university for high-ranked wolves. Ashley is a lovely Omega with a childhood trauma Jack shares a backstory with, and now that he has seen her again, he is obsessed with perusing her attention. But Ashley is looking to have an independent life away from Greenway Pack. “Leave her alone. She never asked for your help, Beta.” Unexpectedly, Jack finds himself trapped in the hands of an evil Beta. And is Ashley who saves him choosing him as his fated mate. Not long after, Margaret appears in the picture recognizing him as his fated mate. Can a bond between three souls exist? “Am I a prick for loving two women at the same time? What would you do if you can't decide between the woman your heart wants and the woman the Moon Goddess created for you?” The Beta’s Unexpected Mates is Book Two in The Wolves of Greenway Series. The first part is a prequel, and the second part is about the Beta's poly relationship.

My lawyer wife’s assistant got into trouble again. This time, he had been driving at nearly sixty miles an hour in a residential neighborhood and crashed into my seventy-year-old mother, sending her flying. My mother had gotten paralyzed from the accident after suffering fractures in dozens of places. She would be bedbound for the rest of her life. My wife represented her assistant in court again. She claimed that my mother had intentionally gotten in the path of her assistant’s vehicle to get compensation money, and that was how the crash happened. She pushed all the responsibility back on my mother. In the end, her assistant was pronounced innocent and released, while I had to pay him for damages. “Tyson, he’s just a twenty-five-year-old kid. He knows nothing. If he got sent to jail, his life would be ruined. Don’t pursue this with him.” After the lawsuit, the assistant rushed to make an online post. [My lawyer’s so gorgeous. She’s an angel of justice!] Florence liked the post right in front of me. Meanwhile, I stayed so calm it was scary. “Let’s get a divorce, Florence.”