Steel And Flesh

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.

At nine months pregnant, I was in the final stretch of my term, and my body heavy with a baby due any day. But my husband, Vito Falcone, underboss of the family, had locked me away. He held me in a sterile underground medical room and injected me with a labor suppressant. As I screamed in agony, he coldly told me to endure it. Because his brother's widow, Scarlett, was expected to go into labor at the exact same time. A blood oath he'd made with his late brother declared that the firstborn son would inherit the family's lucrative West Coast territory. "That inheritance belongs to Scarlett's child," he said. "With Daemon gone, she is utterly alone and destitute. You have my love, Alessia. All of it. I just need her to deliver safely. Then it's your turn." The drug was a constant, agonizing torment. I begged him to take me to a hospital. He grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to meet his icy gaze. "Stop the act! I know you're fine. You’re just trying to steal the inheritance." "To get ahead of Scarlett, you'll stop at nothing." My face was ashen. My body convulsed as I managed a desperate whisper. "The baby's coming. I don't care about the inheritance. I just love you, and I want our child to be born safely!" He sneered. "If you were really that innocent, if you had an ounce of love for me, you wouldn't have forced Scarlett to sign that prenup, waiving her child's inheritance rights." "Don't worry, I'll be back for you after she's given birth. you're carrying my own flesh and blood, after all." He kept a vigil outside Scarlett's delivery room all night. It was only after seeing the newborn in her arms that he remembered me. He finally sent his second in command, Marco, to release me. But when Marco finally called, his voice was shaking. "Boss... the missus and the baby... they're gone." In that moment, Vito Falcone shattered.

After my stepsister, Jennifer Nichols, died in a tragic accident, Julian Asher hated me for ten whole years. He was the youngest star attorney in Vaxton Bay. He was always calm and composed, yet he never once hid his disgust toward me. I gave up everything for him: my education, my family, my friends, even the inheritance I was meant to receive. I stayed by his side through the grueling bar exam and the brutal early days of his career. But all he ever said was, "Miley, if you really want to please me, go ahead and die." The only woman he ever loved in this lifetime was my stepsister. And I realized that far too late. It wasn't until a fire broke out unexpectedly in the courthouse archives and I was trapped upstairs that something changed. Julian ran in to save me. The blaze devoured everything in its path. In the end, he shoved me out of the rubble. The collapsing steel beams crashed down on him. Blood spilled everywhere. Outside the operating room, I fell to my knees, begging the heavens to let him live. Before he died, he left me one final message with the doctor. "Miley, I hope we never meet again in the next life." At his funeral, his mother slapped me hard across the face—again and again. "You're a cursed wretch. Killing Jennifer wasn't enough for you; now you've killed my son too. I never should've agreed to let Julian marry you." His father dragged me to my knees by my hair, forcing me to kneel. "This is all my fault. I was too soft-hearted. Julian saved you three times, and all you ever brought him was misery!" Everyone believed I was the reason Julian died. And deep down, I believed it too. In the end, I slit my wrists and took my own life—only to awaken back in university, at the very moment we was supposed to get engaged. This time, I made a choice. I would not chase after him again. I would step aside and let him be with the one he loved most—my stepsister, Jennifer.