Tragic Ending Novels & Stories

My name is Sarah Holloway, and I'm the best warrior in the Snowlight Pack. I've been telling everyone in the pack that my mate hails from another pack, and that he's died in a battle. That's why I have no choice but to raise my daughter, Nora Holloway, on my own. No one knows that Nora's biological father is Alpha Larry Grayback of the Snowlight Pack. Seven years ago, after I accidentally spent a night with Larry, he warned me to never vie for the Luna position. After all, the Snowlight Pack's Luna should never be a shameless and power-yearning she-wolf like me. Since then, he forbids me from becoming his mate. Heck, not even Nora is allowed to call him "daddy". For so long, I've endured Larry's outrageous demands. When he misses Nora's birthday once again, I turn in the application to leave the pack so that I can leave with Nora permanently. Larry, who has always been calm and composed, suddenly loses his mind. He rushes into the admistration center and demands where we are. But this time, both Nora and I are never coming back.

At the Hunting Festival, Cynthia Whitefang flashes a stack of cash and demands that my mate, Simon Fenwick, become her bodyguard. "Just accept it, Layla." Simon flashes his fangs and tells Cynthia to get lost in a rude tone. Our son, Noah Fenwick, who's chronically poisoned by silver, waves his fists angrily as well to chase Cynthia away. But I just stare at the stack of cash quietly. Memories of a conversation I had overheard last week surge into my mind at that moment. That time, Noah was tugging at the hem of Simon's shirt while standing under a tree. "Daddy, can I keep pretending to be poisoned? That way, Mommy will keep giving me money to treat my poison. I wanna buy gifts for Cynthia!" he said coquettishly. Simon had replied dotingly, "Of course! But you must remember to never tell Mommy that I'm not hurt. Only when she's filled with guilt will she love us forever." It turns out that my husband is faking his injury, while my son is faking being poisoned. They've played me like a fiddle the whole time. I, on the other hand, have to risk my life time and again to earn money just to treat their imaginary illness and wounds. To think that all of my earnings are used on pleasing another she-wolf… I raise my head, soon meeting Cynthia's confident gaze. "Okay. You can have him."

When Cora Shepard's husband's first love, Kimberly Hayes, came back, her first move was to make Cora sign a wager. The terms were simple. If George Lambert abandoned Cora nine times for her, Cora would give up her place as Mrs. Lambert. Cora agreed.

“Help me fake my death and arrange a completely new identity.” “Donna,” the man was clearly shocked. “Why? The Don dotes on you. The whole of Sicily knows—” “That’s none of your business,” I interrupted him. “I’m leaving in five days.” Walking out of the black market, the LED screen in the square was still showing footage of my lavish wedding with Don Alexander three years ago, a ceremony that cost over $500 million. Everyone thought Don Alexander loved me deeply, and I thought so too. Until this afternoon, on our third wedding anniversary, I returned to Sicily early, hiding in the lounge of my husband—Don Alexander’s—office, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I saw his secretary hiding under his desk. While the underboss Marco was reporting the losses from the dock smuggling operation, Isabella was kneeling between Alexander’s legs, skillfully unbuttoning his trousers. Her head bobbed up and down. After Marco left, Isabella smiled seductively. “Could your Donna serve you like this during a meeting?” Alexander’s voice was filled with desire. His hands kneaded her breasts. “Sophia is too conventional, too boring. You’re much more exciting in bed, you little slut.” I covered my mouth, completely devastated. But when I actually left, the Don, who had found me boring, was the one who completely broke down.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

Being a war correspondent, I spend all my time searching for any trace of Damian Calloway. Through countless close brushes with death, only one thought keeps me going—I want to die by his side. Four years later, I receive a phone call from him. "Evelyn, Camille finally forgave you," Damian says, his voice coming through the receiver with jarring clarity. In the background, the peaceful, mundane sounds of life drift through the line, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield around me. I freeze. "What are you talking about?" Damian chuckles. "I left the military a long time ago. I've been back home with Camille this whole time. You made her cry before you left, and she has a temper. She wanted to teach you a lesson, but she's over it now, so you can come home and marry me." The wedding date we decided on is exactly one month away. It turns out that he has been keeping track of the dates the entire time, treating the danger I survive daily as if it's a joke. When I step into the terminal, his friends don't even bother hiding their smirks. "Look at her," one of them mutters. "She's a total simp. As if she could actually stay mad." "One phone call from Damian, and she drops everything to fly across the world—" Just then, everyone freezes. The smile vanishes from Damian's face as every eye locks onto the unfamiliar wedding ring on my finger.

I've been in a five-year relationship with my mate, Alpha Callum Nash. However, he has delayed the Luna Coronation Ceremony 52 times so far. The first time it was held, Seraphina Vance, an outsider Omega whom Callum had taken in, lost control of herself and shifted into a wolf on the training grounds. He quickly returned to the grounds to soothe Seraphina, but in doing so, he abandoned me in the sacred grounds for the entire day. The second time it was held, Callum had sensed that an elder was making Seraphina's life difficult halfway through the ceremony. He immediately interrupted the vowing ritual and headed back to the pack just to defend Seraphina. As I stood on the altar on my own, I could hear the rest of the pack making fun of me. Since then, whenever the Luna Coronation Ceremony is held, Seraphina will keep coming up with different problems that require Callum's immediate attention. In the end, I've completely given up on Callum, so I decide to sever our mate bond. On the day I leave the pack territory, Callum, who's no longer able to pick up my scent, goes crazy.

Everyone in Moonveil Pack knew our Alpha, Eric, worshiped his Mate. When he loved, he went feral. To keep me—an infertile she-wolf—on the Luna throne, he once painted the Elder Council in blood. Stood in front of the whole pack and swore he hated pups. Said he'd end his own bloodline before he let me hurt. Yeah. That was his version of forever. Until my body changed. Then one day he walked into our territory holding a young she-wolf's hand—Velda—and built her a little love nest right next to our home. I asked for an explanation. "My pack needs an heir. You can't give me one." Velda smiled all sweet. The second he looked away, she flipped me off. "Zara, you're fat as a pig. What makes you think you can compete with me?" I looked at her young, perfect face and finally got it. Those vows? Not love. Just lust in a crown. I didn't cry. Didn't cause a scene. I called the witch through mind link. "Do it. Forcefully sever my mate bond with him." If he hated this body so much, then the thousandfold pain I'd held back for five years? Yeah. It was time to give it back.

Three days before my wedding, my fiancé let his childhood friend alter my wedding dress. She even took the eighteen-carat blue diamond from my engagement ring and turned it into a pendant for herself. My fiancé, Lewis Chase, the most powerful mafia boss in Napels, was so afraid I would be angry that he boarded a cruise ship with his childhood friend, Quinn Turner, and left on an around-the-world voyage overnight. Lewis told me, “Eve, Quinn was just being cheeky. Don’t be upset. I’ll get you a new wedding dress and a new ring—the best money can buy. Once you've calmed down, I’ll come back, and we'll have our wedding.” He assumed I would argue and cry like I always had before, but when he returned a month later, he discovered that I had changed. I no longer got angry when he favored Quinn. I even allowed her to move into what was supposed to be our marital home. Lewis thought I had finally become more understanding, so he promised to give me the grandest wedding Napels had ever seen. What he didn’t know was that I had already given up on him. In three days, I would be boarding a flight to Switz. I didn't want the wedding anymore, and I didn't want him, either.

I am Ayna Radolf, the only White Wolf in Moonshadow Pack. Everyone says I grew up cherished by Carlson Moonclaw, the Alpha. When I was three, my father died in battle. Carlson held me in a pool of blood and swore to protect me for life. When I was five, I was bullied in the pack because of my unusual fur color. He announced to the entire pack that anyone who touched me was his enemy. For 15 years, I have lived under his protection, offering him my heart and my life without reservation. At 18, Carlson falls under the vampires' death curse. I willingly sacrifice half of my lifespan and beg a witch to use a forbidden spell to transfer the curse onto me. With that, I take on his certain death. On that same day, as I watch his unconscious form and tightly furrowed brows, I cannot help but kiss the corner of his lips. He wakes up. Unexpectedly, there isn't any tenderness or any trace of emotion—only overwhelming rage and disgust. He grips my chin with horror in his eyes, as if he is looking at a filthy maggot. "Ayna, I am your brother! How dare you have such disgusting thoughts?" From that day on, Carlson has avoided me like the plague. This goes on until Selena Fang, his so-called fated mate, returns. She cries and tells him that she is abused and abandoned by her former mate. Now, she is blind and covered in injuries. The healer declares that only my White Wolf's eyes are a perfect match for her. So my Alpha, the brother I loved for 15 years, comes to me. Carlson stands in front of me and says solemnly, "Ayna, I know this is unfair to you. But if Selena doesn't have eyes, she will live in darkness for the rest of her life. As long as you give her your eyes, I will do anything you ask—except give you my love." I snap back to reality and dig my fingers hard into my palm. The sharp pain clears my mind instantly. I am not dreaming. I am reborn and back to the day Carlson forces me to give up my eyes. In my previous life, I refused to the end. During the struggle, Serena "accidentally" fell off a cliff, and her body was never found. Carlson blamed me for everything. On my birthday, he gouged out my eyes and threw me into the dungeon where rogue wolves were imprisoned. There, I was assaulted endlessly. In the end, I died in the cold, damp darkness like a piece of discarded trash. The despair and pain from before my death still linger in my bones. I look at the man in front of me. The love that once filled my chest completely fizzles out into nothingness. I will give him these eyes as repayment for the 15 years he has protected and raised me. From now on, we will go our own ways, and we owe each other nothing.