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My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

Lux Hale is the princess of the Royal Pack. She has everything that you would want in a princess and future Luna Queen. There is only one problem with her... she was born blind. Lux doesn’t want to leave her pack and she gets more nervous as her eighteenth birthday approaches, wishing the mate bond didn't exist. Unbeknownst to Lux, her best friend Silas has always had a massive crush on her. Will Lux be cherished by her mate? Will Silas be able to move on if it turns out Lux is not his mate? Join Lux and Silas on their journeys in figuring out their lives!

Revenge. It's all Violet Stone has ever desired. After losing her parents, she will stop at nothing to avenge them. She goes to her cousin, Magnolia Knight, knowing that the two of them would work better together than apart. But seeking her cousin's help isn't easy because it means she has to put aside their differences to work together. Magnolia has the picture perfect family, is going to be the first female Alpha in her pack, and is beautiful and smart. Is Magnolia willing to sacrifice her life to help her cousin? Will Violet ever get the revenge she seeks? And just when things can't get any more complicated... mates come into the picture. ***There are characters that will be mentioned from "Alpha's Slave Mate" and "Saved By The Alpha" you do not have to read these books to understand this one it just gives some extra background!***

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.

Steven Zimmer, the assistant of my wife, Lucy Quinn, has lost in a truth-or-dare session. Lucy doesn't hesitate to file for a divorce from me for the ninth time. In the courthouse, I hear the staff member asking Lucy curiously, "Your husband is like a well-trained dog now. You've already married and divorced him nine times! Aren't you worried that your husband might ditch you for real?" Lucy merely smirks at her. "Do you know that the more ruthless you are when you abandon your pets, the harder it'll be for them to live without you? In fact, they will just become more obedient and docile. As long as I curl a finger at him, he'll definitely sink down to his knees and beg me to remarry him." Everyone bursts into laughter after that. They bet that I'll plead pathetically to Lucy to remarry me for the tenth time in less than a day after I've obtained the divorce certificate. Lucy even declares that she'll stream the tenth wedding proposal on the Internet when it happens. But the next day, Lucy keeps waiting for me to show up at the city hall while clad in a wedding dress. All she gets is a text from me. "No more proposals. This is the end between us, Lucy."

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."

I'm the Alpha's eldest daughter and the rightful heir to the Grimwood Pack, but I'm cursed. Every boyfriend I brought to the Shrine of the Moon for the mate test walked out and did the exact same thing.They don't reject me. They try to kill me. By the time I turned thirty, I'd survived ten murder attempts from ten different men. My own father, Alpha Damian, screams at me every time it happens. He beats me until I'm covered in bruises and claims my blood will atone for my sins to the Moon Goddess. The entire pack says I'm too sinful to deserve a mate. Even my grandmother, the woman who raised me and loved me most, came out of the temple and tried to strangle me. I finally couldn't take it anymore, so I needed to see what was inside that temple. But when the truth appeared in front of me, I broke down.

My wife has suffered from hereditary migraines for years. After three years of marriage, I finally developed a specialized medication just for her. Carrying a lunchbox, I headed to her company, intending to deliver the medicine to her in person. But her secretary mistook me for a kept man. He dumped the contents of the lunchbox over my head, stripped off my clothes in front of everyone, and even made me swallow the only dose of that specialized medicine. "A mere food delivery guy, and you dare dress so indecently? Today, I'll show you exactly what happens to a homewrecker." Then, with a smug grin, he turned to claim credit with my wife. "Ms. Milstein, I took care of that food delivery guy who was trying to seduce you. How are you going to reward me?"

My mom, Susan, had a habit of sending me to get her shopping. However, she would always leave out a zero when paying me back what was owed, blaming on her poor eyesight. I never minded. In fact, I would just cover the cost without another word. Then, Summer, my sister, had to throw shade. “Mom sends you money whenever she wants something. You never show us the actual costs, though. I bet you’re making a nice little profit off Mom behind our backs.” Susan smiled and didn’t even bother to defend me, as if confirming Summer’s accusations. My heart sank. Over the years, I had bought her things from major appliances to the smallest groceries, and each time, the payment she sent was short. Susan would just brush the whole thing off by saying, “Oh, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. My bad.” I had poured hundreds of thousands into her expenses, only to end up with a reputation as a thief who cheated her own family. When Susan sent me money for the New Year’s Eve catering, I simply booked food that fit the budget she paid for.