Straight Jacket

During the annual awards gala, I stepped out to use the restroom. When I came back, my year-end bonus was gone, canceled for allegedly assaulting a new coworker, Elan Crowe. In my first life, I desperately tried to prove my innocence by showing my fitness tracker’s movement data, proving I had been in the bathroom. Calder Roane, the department head, flew into a rage. "Everyone in the department saw you hit him. And you still want to deny it?" I struggled and explained frantically, but in the chaos, I accidentally fell down the stairs and died on the spot. In my second life, I took medical leave and skipped the gala entirely. I never expected that just past noon, the police would surround my home. "Lyra Vale, you’re suspected of intentional homicide. You need to come with us." Elan’s enraged family had then rushed forward and stabbed me repeatedly. I died again. In my third life, I ran to the city plaza, started a livestream, and rapped on camera, turning every viewer into my alibi. That night, the police still came. "The evidence is conclusive. Please come with us." At the station, they pulled up surveillance footage. It clearly showed me sneaking into the gala hall, arguing with Elan, then picking up a knife and stabbing him straight in the back. I was completely stunned. Three days later, I took a bullet. After endless rebirths, I finally laughed in anger. This time, I stormed straight into the gala hall, pressed a knife across Elan's throat, and said, "This is a kidnapping."

The werewolves and the witches did not see face to face, never wanting to interact with each other, despite both being a creature of magic and Goddesses. For two generations, two Alphas were paired with witches for a mate and the second better half, that was the Goddess's way of putting friendship between her children, but the wolves being an animal of instinct, the first generation did not fare well, and spoiled things further. It was then left to the second generation to set things straight, or perhaps the third. Alpha's Wilson and Quinton, are both paired with witches, one hot-headed, the other level-headed, but, what did their attitude get them? Nowhere!. That's where.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

"M-Master… I-I want to…" "Touch yourself? No. You're not allowed to." It's now lunchtime, and I'm hiding in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, video calling a stranger who isn't showing his face. He's dressed mysteriously in a suit and tie, nonchalantly toying with the remote control in his hand. Meanwhile, I am at my wit's end on the bathroom floor, feeling the foreign item inside me pulsing rapidly and sending me straight to the edge. None of this is consensual. It all begins with the mysterious "Love Mission" app I accidentally downloaded and installed on my phone.

I begged my husband ninety-nine times to go with me to Jay Boone's concert. On the hundredth time, he finally bought two front-row tickets. Dressed to the nines, I was stopped at the entrance by security because I couldn't produce my ticket. By the time the concert ended, I still hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone. News broke that my husband and his young girlfriend were at the concert, requesting "Sunny Day" from Jay Boone. The story shot straight to the trending charts. There's no rain in the lyrics of "Sunny Day." Because the only world caught in a torrential downpour was mine.

A week before my bonding ceremony, my younger sister traveled from a distant pack to be my maid of honor. While she was trying on her dress, the phone she had left outside suddenly rang. “Florence, can you answer that for me? I can’t get it right now.” I picked it up, and a male werewolf’s voice came through the line. “Baby, I bought you a gorgeous lingerie set. Tonight is going to be amazing.” I didn’t make a sound. A cold chill sliced straight through me. That voice belonged to none other than my mate-to-be, Dylan Conner.

When certified straight fuckboy Valentine kissed the closeted Dominic, he began craving for more.Confused feelings will force Valentine to pursue Dominic. Little did he know, Dominic was on his mission to destroy him.How to Destroy a Fuckboy1. Steal his attention.2. Make him kiss you.3. Make him want moooooore.4. Surprise him.5. Make him ask you on a date.6. Make sure that your first date will be memorable.7. Seduce him and leave him hanging.8. Make him introduce you to his parents. 9. Make him ask you to be his boyfriend.10. Destroy him.Note: Don't ever fall in love with him.

​Daphne Clarke has spent her life keeping her head down. Juggling classes, part-time jobs, and dreams of a better future. One impulsive night at a party shatters her careful routine when she wakes up next to Zachary Moreau, the enigmatic heir to a billion-dollar empire. Years later, as a single mother struggling to rebuild her life, fate leads her straight back into his world. Only this time, she’s working for him, and he has no idea they share a son. Bound by secrets, a looming arranged marriage, and undeniable chemistry, Daphne and Zachary are on a collision course that could change everything.

“I’ll keep you safe, Anya. Even if I have to lock you away.” * * Her brother kept her away from the Bratva’s bloody world. But the night he was killed, Anya Vasiliev was thrown into it. Straight into the arms of his best friend, Roman Sokolov. Now the new Pakhan, Roman swears she’s safest with him. But his protection feels like a prison… and his obsession, like chains tightening around her throat. He says he’ll burn Moscow to the ground for her. But will she ever escape the man who swore she’ll belong to him? No matter the cost?

Famously known as the Ice Queen, no nonsense secretary to the famous ruthless president, Yelena had always her head straight and focus on what she wanted. And what did she actually want? Her boss, the tyrant of the business world. No one knew of her crush except her best friend. But that would be until Cayden, her male friend and younger brother to her crush, knew of her feelings and tries to get both of them together through an arranged marriage. Yelena is now faced with either to choose marrying her crush through an arranged marriage, or wait till forever when he MIGHT reciprocate her feelings ....