Predator Vision Novels & Stories

For a decade, my world had been measured in laundry cycles, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remnants of another family meal, when it happened. A sudden, silent cascade of text flickered at the edge of my vision, like subtitles for a movie only I could see: [Gosh, the heroine is so tragic. Her husband's entire family has been feeding on her luck like parasites!] [Her husband stole her graduate school admission and her career!] [The in-laws are literally siphoning her health away. No wonder she's always sick.] [And the sister-in-law took her "romance" stat! No wonder her love life is a desert.] [Heads up! Her husband's about to give her another "gift." Let's see how much more he takes from her this time.] My hands, clutching a greasy plate, froze. Right on cue, my husband, Tristan, sauntered into the kitchen. A smug, self-satisfied smile was plastered on his face as he took my wet hand. He slid a flimsy, garishly colored plastic bracelet onto my wrist. "Look what I got for you, sweetheart," he announced, his voice dripping with pride. "I made a special trip after work. Found it at the dollar store. It's romantic and economical, just like you always say you want. You love it, don't you?"

After my father-in-law, Oswald Leyton, is diagnosed with a complicated form of heart disease, I rush to Germasia for an intensive training on the most advanced medical technique just so that I can operate on him and treat his condition. When I return home after the training three months later, I gleefully find my husband, Nicholas Leyton, to tell him about the good news that I have mastered the technique. The plane lands. However, the luxury car that should have come for me turns out to be a broken-down van instead. Someone throws a sack over my head, and I can hear Nicholas' cold laughter next to me. "Did you have lots of fun with your boytoy overseas for the last three months, Victoria Rosewood?" After he and a few other men force themselves on me multiple times, Nicholas slides open the door, planning to abandon me in the wilderness. "Nicholas! You can't do this to me! I'm pregnant…" I try to explain myself, throwing myself at him despite all the cuts and bruises on my body. However, Nicholas gets even angrier after hearing that and forcefully shoves me aside. I feel an excruciating pain coming from my lower abdomen. Warm, sticky blood starts flowing down my thighs. Then, my vision blacks out, and I lose consciousness altogether.

News of my groom's death arrived, but I shed no tears. Instead, I quickly reclaimed his shares and had his death officially recorded. Why? I was reborn. In my previous life, my family had adopted three boys to accompany me since childhood, all of whom were potential candidates to be my husband. As the heiress of the wealthiest family in the country, my father feared I wouldn't be happy marrying someone else we weren't familiar with. I chose Jayden, the most capable of the three brothers—but just three days after the wedding, he passed away. In my grief, I gave up on remarriage. With Jesse and Joel's persuasion, I lived the rest of my life as a widow. Upon reaching eighty, I went to Massalia, where we once pledged our love. There, I encountered Jayden…who had supposedly died sixty years ago! He was living with my maid, who had gone missing decades ago, surrounded by children and grandchildren, living a happy and contented life. When I realized I had been deceived my whole life, I was so enraged that my vision suddenly darkened. I died of a brain hemorrhage on the spot. When I awoke, I had returned to the day the news of his death had arrived. Let's see how a man who should have died intended to continue living!

“What do you want, Aria?” I swallow hard, my palms sweaty. “I need to talk to you. About... us.” His look doesn’t alter, and for a second, I worry if he’s just going to walk away again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens up, his gaze never leaving mine. “There is no ‘us,’ Aria,” he replies, his voice flat and cold. I feel a knot building in my throat, but I go forward. “You felt it, didn’t you? The tie between us. You can’t refute it.” He approaches closer, and for a minute, I think I see something flicker in his eyes, something that nearly seems like sorrow. But it’s gone as swiftly as it appeared. “You’re not my mate, Aria,” he replies, his voice tightening. “Don’t fool yourself.” The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I take a step back, my vision fading as the weight of his rejection slams over me. My heart feels like it’s being pulled apart, piece by piece. How can he say that? How can he deny what’s so painfully clear to me? “Damian, I...” I whispered, but he cut me off, his voice colder than ever. “I don’t want you, Aria. You mean nothing to me.” And with that, he turns and goes away, leaving me standing there, crushed.

Katherine Salazar. A girl from Spain whose life changed the day she first held a knife. She learned early that silence can be sharper than any blade. Her weapon a slender knife, always hidden beneath her clothes. Her adopted parents named her "Ghost Knife". She moved like a shadow—silent, precise, deliberate, clean. As she grew into a woman, her beauty captivated—and haunted— people around her in ways almost impossible to resist. When she took a mission she wasn’t supposed to handle herself, it tore her world apart, everything changed. She was caught by two brutal twin—opposites in behavior, different in power, identical in blood. Instead of ending her life, they chose to use her skills for their own dirty work. But then things got complicated. When both twin fell in love with her. A forbidden love, dangerous and consuming. Her next mission was supposed to be simple: eliminate the twins’ greatest enemy. But the target… was her “dead” father. "Dad?” My voice barely escaped, thick with disbelief, my vision blurred by unshed tears. “Kat?" His voice trembled with shock, more startled than I had ever seen him. In a fluid motion, he lifted his left hand, swift, precise—and the guards froze, stopped as if caught in a web of unseen power. " Y..You , I saw..." My words faltered, the knife quivering in my grip.

Damien Voss catches the hacker tearing his empire apart and forces a brutal deal: one year as his live-in shadow, total obedience, including his bed, or Riven’s little sister loses the treatment keeping her alive. Riven signs because he has no choice, even though the man he’s sworn to destroy is the same one who’s secretly paid for that treatment for years. What starts as cold revenge turns vicious the moment they touch. Damien’s hidden condition triggers a vision of his own murder — with Riven holding the gun. Now the contract that was supposed to give Damien control has become a cage neither man can escape. Every kiss, every night in the same bed, brings the death prophecy closer and sharper. Riven keeps telling himself he still wants Damien dead, but the longer he stays, the harder it gets to remember why. Damien watches the man he’s forcing to submit and realizes he’s falling for the only person fate keeps showing him as his killer. In the end they don’t break the prophecy by fighting it. They break it by choosing each other anyway — knowing one of them might still have to die for the other to live. Some contracts can only be paid in blood or in surrender, and Damien and Riven are running out of time to decide which one they’re willing to give.

Thirty days. One month. A single, heartbeat-stopping wager. Benjamin Parker was the sun. A golden-haired scholarship recruit with flour on his hands and a heart that he wore—vulnerable and beating—on his sleeve. He spent weeks chasing the school’s "Ice Prince," offering handmade tarts and a smile that could melt the coldest winter. He thought his persistence finally paid off when Jonathan Hayes—the obsidian-eyed, terrifyingly beautiful heir to a tech empire—pinned him against the school gates and claimed him in front of everyone. But the "Golden Romance" was a lie from the very first kiss. Jonathan didn't choose Benjamin because of his heart; he chose him because he was a convenient target for a cruel poker-room bet. The stakes? A vintage motorcycle. The duration? Thirty days of manufactured affection. Now, the countdown is ticking. Between the silk sheets of Jonathan’s penthouse and the shadows of the St. Jude’s library, the line between the game and reality is blurring. Jonathan is the predator who accidentally caught himself in his own trap, growing addicted to the very light he’s destined to extinguish. Benjamin is the lamb who is slowly realizing the wolf isn't just at the door—he’s in his bed. When the moon turns red and the thirty days are up, the truth will do more than just break Benjamin's heart. It will shatter his soul. One month of sweetness. A lifetime of ruin. In the game of hearts, the house always wins... and Jonathan Hayes never plays fair.

For ten years, Xender Stormriven loved Tristan Blackmoor. For three years, he served as the Blackmoor Pack’s secret weapon—a master strategist known in the underworld only as "The Ghost." He played the role of the devoted, submissive mate, enduring Tristan’s coldness and the stinging scent of another wolf on his husband’s skin. He thought loyalty would eventually win Tristan’s heart. He was wrong. Caught in the act with his ex-lover, Tristan throws a divorce decree at Xender’s feet, choosing a "delicate" omega over the soldier who bled to keep his borders safe. He strips Xender of his title and kicks him out of the Blackmoor Pack House into the rain, calling him a "useless drain on the pack." But Tristan made one fatal mistake: He forgot that Xender wasn't just a discarded mate. He is the most feared architect in the Nightfall Territory. Now, the Blackmoor Syndicate is facing a multi-billion credit collapse, and there is only one man who can save them. When Tristan crawls to the legendary Moonshade Atelier to beg for help, he doesn't find a faceless contractor. He finds Xender—flanked by the world’s most powerful Alpha, Lucien Varkane, and looking ready to watch the Blackmoor empire burn. Xender is done playing the victim. In this mafia werewolf world, if you aren't the predator, you're the prey—and the Ghost has finally come to collect his debt.

BLURB The first time I looked into Kael Draem’s eyes, I knew he wasn’t a man made for happy endings. He wasn’t crafted from kindness or tenderness. He was a wolf carved from scars and ink, a predator whose heart beat only for power. And yet. When his gaze pinned me in that crowded hall, when his voice claimed me as though the word mine had been written into his very bones, my entire world shifted. Every instinct told me to run. To fight. To hate him for the chains he wrapped around me. But wolves are not creatures of reason. We are bound by instinct, by bond, by a pull stronger than any vow. I told myself I despised him. That I would never bend, never surrender, never let his hands brand my skin with ownership. But then there were nights when the fire between us burned too bright to deny. When the anger blurred into something sharp and breathless. When his lips hovered just above mine, and I hated him so much that it felt like hunger. Kael was chaos. He was violence. He was the darkness I swore I would never crave. And yet every time he touched me, every time he whispered in that low, ruthless voice that I belonged to him, the fragile walls around my heart cracked a little more.

So this is how the mate bond feels. A rush of energy, a pull like gravity tightening around us, and an almost maddening awareness of the other person. I wasn’t about to let it sway me though. Sure, the man in front of me is ridiculously perfect, but I wasn’t some love-struck fool who’d drop everything at the first spark of fate. I had a life, plans, and a fiancé waiting for me upstairs. I raised an eyebrow, forcing myself to stay calm even as my heart raced. “Take a number and get in line, sweetheart,” I said coolly, flashing the engagement ring on my finger in front of his gray eyes. “I’m otherwise occupied right now.” …Five years later, when I pushed the door open, my mate remained motionless on a leather couch, his piercing gaze boring into me with a cold detachment that sent shivers down my spine. He leaned back, the casualness of the gesture at odds with the intensity in his eyes. His arms rested lazily on the backrest, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His body was coiled tight, like a predator ready to pounce, and the air between us crackled with tension. “Is my number finally up?” he asks, his tone laced with bitter amusement. “My dear mate.” The words sting, but I can’t deny the truth in them. He is my last chance.