Queen's Justice

Sean McNally I'm the captain of the Irish Rabbits in Boston. We've been here a long time. The Russians are the interlopers. But they come with power and strength I can't hope to fight. I gotta get me some leverage in the form of Irina Dobrev, Bratva princess and the Pakhan's sister. A marriage between us would mean this war is over. I just have to kidnap her first and leave her with no choice. Irina Dobrev This war is tiresome especially since the Rabbits keep trying to ambush me everywhere I go. Now Roman, my brother and the Pakhan of the Boston Bratva, wants me to stay locked up in a safehouse. I don't even have my favorite sweat pants with me! I am not about this life. So I decide to take matters into my own hands and make a deal with the Irish. Anything to get them to stop chasing me all over town. This is book one of a series: The Bratva Chronicles. It ends in a cliffhanger.

Matilda and Torpedo started out as werewolf mates—dominant, brilliant, arrogant, and determined who recognized with the same sharpness and ambitiousness for their goals. For their goal, they shared a fake relationship as mates. They faced several near-death experiences, challenges, and seemingly unexpected events revealing intriguing dark secrets behind their Kingdom. But when their fake relationship advances towards love, things go extremely hard as they break several rules which no one ever broke before and hence fall into a deep curse. Years later, Matilda breaks out of the dark land from which she was gone due to the curse, determined to get her kingdom back, which her father left after his death from her evil cousin, aided by her ex-boyfriend who once broke her heart. Meanwhile, Torpedo is on a mission to eradicate the evil super-powered person in a war for freedom—aside from his brother who was determined to defeat his brotherhood for his love for Matilda. Armed with terrible power on both sides, driven by the memory of pain, betrayal, and loss, the antagonist has set a course for revenge—but who will be left alive at the end?

For 16 years Olina has been hiding in plain sight at the pack of her future mate. As a royal, she has known who her mate was since the first time she met him, even if she was only 2. Now it's two days past her 18th birthday, and the man she has loved all her life, marked another. As she reels with the pain of the rejection and marking, she returns to her original pack, her home. Along with her best friend and guardian, Waryn, who came with her to her mate's pack as toddlers, Olina returns only to find that her new plan of avoiding any possible future with a mate won't be that easy. Her mother has a plan, and as the next full moon passes and her bond breaks with Syn, it seems so does fate. But as she comes face to face with all shes ever wanted, she realizes it comes with a price. Facing a future unlike the one she spent 16 years preparing for, Olina steps up against a new mate, a new role in her pack, and a new enemy in the form of a familiar face, one who wants her royal bloodline to end at her.

After the great war between humans and beasts, both sides agreed to let the half-beasts govern the world. Every hundred years, a union between humans and beasts would be arranged. The first half-beast child of the generation would be the next ruler of the Human-Beast Alliance. In my past life, I chose to marry the eldest son of the wolf clan, renowned for his unwavering devotion. I was the first to bear him a child—a rare half-beast white wolf. Our son was named the next ruler of the Human-Beast Alliance, and my husband, by extension, rose to immense power. My younger sister, who had chosen to marry into the fox clan out of vain admiration for their beauty, was not so fortunate. The fox clan's heir, a notorious philanderer, eventually contracted a disease and lost his ability to father children. Jealous and resentful, my sister set a fire that burned both me and my young white wolf son alive. When I opened my eyes again, it was the very day of the human-beast mating ceremony. This time, my sister was quicker—she climbed into the wolf clan heir Jacob's bed before I had the chance. I knew then: she had been reborn too. But what she didn't know… was that Jacob's nature was cruel and violent. He worshiped bloodshed, not love. And he was anything but a worthy mate.

A flicker of hope, a spark amidst the neon grime of New Shanghai. Anya, a slave to the Volkov Mafia, had long buried her emotions under layers of calloused defiance. Years of servitude had carved a burning desire for vengeance into her soul. Then, a whisper of rebellion arrived – a message smuggled in a package, hinting at a Volkov family secret. Anya's heart, long numbed, stuttered awake. This wasn't just a chance to escape; it was a weapon. A weapon to dismantle the empire that had stolen her life, her family, everything. But the path to freedom was a razor's edge. Fear gnawed at her, a constant companion in the Volkov's watchful gaze, their merciless enforcers lurking in every shadow. Yet, a flicker of something else bloomed – a strange, almost forgotten warmth, a sliver of the person she used to be. Could she trust it? As Anya navigated the labyrinth of lies and high-tech security, a deeper truth unfolded. This Volkov secret wasn't just about her escape; it was a key to exposing a far-reaching conspiracy, one that could reshape the city's criminal web. Suddenly, Anya's burning desire for revenge transformed. It wasn't just about herself anymore. It was about a sliver of justice, a chance to dismantle a system that preyed on the weak. But with this newfound purpose came a terrifying weight of responsibility. Was she strong enough to risk everything, to ignite a war she might not survive? The weight of human emotions – fear, anger, and a desperate yearning for freedom – threatened to suffocate her. The price of vengeance was steep, and Anya had to decide if she had the strength to pay it.

After my daughter was seriously injured in a car accident and suffered heavy bleeding, she was rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment. When it was time to sign the surgical consent form, the nurse suddenly snapped the medical file shut and pressed it down firmly. "Hospital regulations state that only immediate family members can sign the surgical consent form. What proof do you have that you are the child's father?" I was stunned. "She is my biological daughter. Do I still need to prove it to you?" The nurse retorted, "Birth certificates can be forged. How do we know the child wasn't abducted by you? If you cannot prove it, we cannot proceed with the surgery." Seeing the nurse's self-righteous expression, I trembled with anger. "I am signing the surgical consent form for my own biological daughter. Do I need to provide DNA evidence as well?" She curled her lip. "These are hospital regulations. We are being responsible for the patient. If you cannot prove the child is yours, we will report you to the police for child trafficking." After saying that, she actually called security to report it and loudly accused me of being a human trafficker. Report me to the police? I took out my police uniform from my bag and put it on. I'd show her what a split-second response was.

On the day Yara Cullen was released from prison, it was raining. A chilly wind carried the drizzle, striking her as the media swarmed the prison gates. "Ms. Cullen, in the Crestwood Estate sexual assault case, your client lost the lawsuit and took her own life six months ago. Her mother is demanding accountability. Do you have anything to say?” "Ms. Cullen, your attorney's license has been revoked, and your mentor was forced to retire. What are your thoughts on this?" No matter how the reporters pressed, Yara kept her head down and pushed forward, forcing her way through the crowd. A black G-Wagon was parked by the roadside, where Westley Langston leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Beside him, Elena Cullen tugged at his arm. He turned, glancing toward the prison gates.

Campus food deliveries vanished so often that no one even commented anymore. Then it happened to me again and again. I never identified the thief, but by New Year's Eve I was finished with being an easy mark. I set out a bowl of soup as bait and soaked it with water wrung from an old bathroom mop. I meant to make whoever stole it regret touching my food. A week later, the police did not come for the thief. They came for me. The counselor slid a penalty notice across his desk—600 dollars for food costs and medical fees, due next week. The person who ate my food had been hospitalized for "poisoning." The school was already discussing a major demerit, the cancellation of my first-class scholarship, and the loss of my needs-based stipend. That stipend was the money keeping my sick mother alive. They planned to pin everything on me, shield the real culprit, and bury me under paperwork. Unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong target. I was the law department's resident argument addict, and I intended to turn their dirty little mediation into a public collapse.

My grandfather is hit by a car, and his skull is shattered. I take the driver to court. That's when I find out my husband, Stuart Creed, who was supposedly abroad on a business trip, is suddenly at the hospital. He looks at me coldly and snaps, "Do you have any idea how important Maddy’s valedictorian announcement is? Her future can't be ruined by some car accident! Drop the case right now, or I'll cut off all your credit cards and have your grandfather kicked out of the VIP ward!" He slams the door and storms out. Before that, he snarls, "Come home when you agree. Until then, forget about calling yourself Mrs. Creed!" While I'm out desperately trying to gather money for my grandfather's surgery, a team of lawyers contacts me. Turns out the patent my grandfather once authorized to Creed Group has expired. And now, I'm the new legal owner.

My in-laws were hit by a car crash. I called my husband, begging him to give me some money to pay the hospital bill. He said, "Oh, if you want money, just come out with it. That excuse is terrible!" He hung up on me. Despite how unfair it felt, I had to call him again. This time, a voice I was familiar with hit my ears. A woman's voice. "Chris, I got a bit too much sunscreen on my hand. Can I smear the rest on your abs?" Lovingly, my husband said, "You little troublemaker." His parents died that night. Overseas.