Re Zero Pride If

My mate, Andrew Claude, is the Alpha of the Celestial Pack, the sworn rival of my father’s Venus Pack. For three years, we have hidden our bond, knowing that our union could either bring peace between the packs or ignite war. On Lunar Year's Eve, beneath the full moon’s silver glow, we stand on the castle terrace, whispering promises of our future. Tonight, we finally agree to perform our bonding ritual, sealing our fates before revealing our love to our parents. My wolf stirs in anticipation, her instincts urging me toward him. But then, Andrew leaps down into the grand fire-dance festival, his powerful wolf form shifting mid-air before landing in a flourish. The scent of burning pine and roasted venison fills the air, warriors howling in celebration. The pack’s bonfire crackles with enchanted flames, casting shadows of prowling wolves against the towering stone walls. I watch from above, heart pounding with joy—until my smile fades. In the heart of the revelry, Carol Sinclair, an Omega maid, clutches a bundle of enchanted fireworks. Andrew strides to her, a warm, easy grin on his face. With a flick of his fingers, golden flames dance from his palms, sparking the firework in her hands. "A little fire magic to help you, Carol," he chuckles. She gasps in admiration, giggling as the firework ignites—only for it to spiral out of control. It veers wildly, the enchanted embers lashing through the air. Searing pain blooms across my arm. The stench of burning flesh fills my nose. I barely react before Carol bursts into tears and flees into the crowd. Before I can speak, Andrew turns on me, his golden eyes flashing with rage. The onlookers fall silent, ears twitching to catch their Alpha’s words. “Did you bully her, Bella?” His growl rumbles deep in his chest. “Just because you’re an Alpha’s heir doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want!” The warriors glance at each other, their tails stiff with tension. I stagger back, stunned. He doesn’t even ask if I’m hurt.

Brianna Lester, with her unusually platinum blonde hair and grayish-blue eyes, is impossible to miss wherever she goes. Her bubbly personality, hyperactivity, innate talent for tripping even while standing still, and her knack for always causing trouble ensure that she immediately catches the attention of the coolest tattoo artist around. Unfortunately, it's not her rather unique appearance that gets noticed, but her clumsiness. The moment she closes the door of the tattoo shop, one of the pictures hanging on the wall-the owner's favorite, and quite valuable-unexpectedly falls down. To make up for the damage, she ends up working at the shop until she can pay off the cost of the picture. It would all be pretty easy if a sexy tattoo artist didn't enjoy teasing her about her bad luck. By now, Brianna has resigned herself to the idea that her life is stuck in the "never a joy" zone, and her birthday is proof of that. Who can be considered lucky if they were born on a day that only comes once every four years? No one. Some people are kissed by fortune at birth, while others are kissed by bad luck. Brianna definitely falls into the latter category.

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

With a sharp gunshot, my husband of twenty years, Marcus De Luca, rushed in front of me and took the bullet for me. As he lay dying, he spoke gently. “Nerina, live well.” I held him in my arms. My tears kept falling as I pressed hard against the wound in his chest. But he only touched my hair. His eyes fell on Vivian’s body. “She’s dead. I have no reason to live either.” It felt like a bullet had gone through my head. All the blood in my body froze. “She suffered in Sicily for twenty years.” “She finally came back, and now she died in front of me.” “Please stay alive. Bury me with her.” “If there is another life, don’t let her go to Sicily in your place again.” “Please make us whole.” His hand fell. My world collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of Marcus’s father. The old Don looked at me. “Your wedding with Marcus is set for three days from now.” I lifted my head and spoke calmly. “Marcus’s bride should not be me. It should be Vivian.” “As for Sicily, I’ll go.”

Layla Xander was gravely ill, with little time left. From that day forward, she had a revelation—when confronted with life and death, nothing else mattered. Selfish, leeching family members? She cut them off. A fiancé who proposed one day and cozied up to her 'good sister' the next? Out of her life. With nothing holding her back, she was finally free. Rumors about her slowly began to spread through her social circle. “Miss Xander has landed herself a wealthy benefactor.” “Miss Xander was seen vacationing with a young heartthrob.” “Miss Xander’s fortune has skyrocketed. She’s throwing around millions like it’s nothing.” Later, when the truth came to light, those who had abandoned her were left in tears, begging for forgiveness. Her leeching parents wept, “You’ll always be our sweet daughter. Come back home, won’t you?” Her scumbag ex-fiancé pleaded, “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved. Please, give me another chance.” But it was too late! A man stepped in, blocking everyone from getting near her. His face was cold and menacing as he growled, “Anyone who dares disturb Miss Xander again will leave here with broken legs.” And then, later still, that same man—once so untouchable and feared—knelt on one knee before her. His voice was deep and unwavering. “Whether in life or death, you’ll always be mine.” … William Lucas never claimed to be a good man. As the head of an elite and powerful family, his path had been paved with blood, and his decisiveness struck fear into anyone who dared cross him. No one could have guessed that this untouchable figure, feared by all, had been hiding away a tender place in his heart—for a girl. A secret he had carried for eight long years. Every ounce of gentleness he had was reserved solely for her.

"What if... what if I had gotten pregnant back then? What if we had a child together? What would you do in that situation?" Ms. Julia leaned in, moving close to my ear, and whispered with a chilling intensity, "I would have killed him without a second thought." My eyes widened in shock, but the devil woman nodded with a cold smile. "That's right. Collin's heir can only be born from a woman who is exceptionally beautiful and exudes class, someone worthy of standing beside my handsome son. You, my dear, do not meet our standards. We have high expectations, girls." Marissa Bennett was left reeling from her mother-in-law's chilling words. Her elder sister, Renee, had abandoned her disabled fiancé on their wedding day, leaving Marissa to step in and marry him under the guise of Renee, all to save the family's reputation. The cruel twist? Marissa was forbidden from revealing her true identity to her new husband, Tyler Collins. After Tyler's surgery restored his health, Marissa's world was shattered when Renee returned, demanding her place as the rightful wife. Desperate to tell Tyler the truth, Marissa faced a dire threat from her mother-in-law, who vowed to kill her if she exposed the deception. Now pregnant and determined to protect her unborn child, Marissa must navigate the treacherous waters of the Collins family, seeking a way to escape and start anew, far from the lies and danger that surround her.

Clayton Amos finally agrees to marry me during my fifth year as the antagonist of a novel. On the day of my wedding, the chandelier in the middle of the hall suddenly snaps and falls. At the most critical moment, he shoves me aside and runs over to protect Gladys Dawson, the protagonist of the novel, and his first love. Clayton's arm is slashed as a result, and blood pours out of the wound, dyeing his pristine white suit red. Meanwhile, Gladys remains unharmed in his arms. I hold a hand against the bleeding wound on my neck and finally accept the fact that Clayton never loved me. This is when the system appears and asks me, "Hailey Paltrow, would you like to abort your mission now?" I nod in silent response. "Since he's going to end up losing all four of his limbs and ultimately wish for death, I'll let him have it."

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

The day Calista Everhart gets divorced, her divorce papers end up splashed online, becoming hot news in seconds. The reason for divorce was highlighted in red: "Husband impotent, leading to an inability to fulfill wife's essential needs." That very night, her husband, Lucian Northwood, apprehends her in the stairwell. He voice was low as he told her, "Let me prove that I'm not at all impotent …"

I was the firm’s star. The one they called for the impossible cases. My latest miracle? The “Titan Project” patent case. I made the firm a billion dollars. My cut was supposed to be a two-million-dollar bonus. But today, a fresh-faced intern waltzed off with it. I thought payroll had made a mistake and stormed straight into the senior partner's office. “Preston. My two-million-dollar bonus. Tell me there’s been a mistake.” Preston didn’t even bother to look up. “Victoria, I’ve looked into it. We won this case because of Chloe’s client management.” “She was schmoozing clients. Late-night golf games. Weekend yacht parties. While you were what, exactly?” “You never showed your face outside the courtroom. Teamwork is everything.” I almost laughed. It was absurd. “She’s a rookie who can’t even recite the rules of discovery.” “Enough!” Preston cut me off. “The firm doesn’t make mistakes. I see what everyone contributes.” “If you're not happy, you can prove your worth somewhere else.” He tossed a severance agreement on the desk. My heart went cold. I signed it on the spot. Before I left, I got the last word. “Preston, next time the firm has a real fight on its hands, you’d better call your social butterfly, Chloe. Don’t bother me.” He blew a perfect smoke ring, smirking right through it. Unfazed. Soon later, my phone blew up. It was him. Begging me to come back and save his ass.