What Was The Strongest Empire

Every day since I was born, I've been trained to kill The Alpha. The one that killed my parents and burnt the city I once called home to ashes. However, fate has a twisted sense of humor. Just when I was about to ruin him, the moon called him mine. Will I stab his heart, or would he win mine?

Rogues suddenly attacked the werewolf hospital. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, rushed over. Everyone thought he had come to protect me. But he rushed straight to his teammate Ayla, completely oblivious to the rogue behind him raising a dagger. Without thinking, I lunged forward and pushed him out of the way. But to my surprise, he grabbed me and held me in front of his childhood friend. The dagger pierced my abdomen, killing our pup. When my colleagues tried to save me, my mate, Paolo Greco, pulled them away. “Save Ayla first! If anything happens to her, I’ll sue your hospital in the werewolf court!” My colleagues looked at him in shock. “But your mate is bleeding heavily! She can’t even stand up now! Ayla only has a cut on her arm; her condition isn’t critical.” I clutched my bleeding abdomen. Heartbroken, I told my colleagues to save her first. “Forget it. Save her first.” Paolo, you saved my life once. I am returning the favor. From that moment, we owe each other nothing. We should never meet again.

Three years ago, Arthur swore a blood oath at the Moon Altar. No other she-wolf would ever touch him. Only me. Forever. Three years later, he drugged me with wolfsbane wine, stole my Alpha Seal, and opened Silver Moon's borders to the Rogues himself. My parents took silver to the heart. My sister was sold to the Crimson Court. My pack burned. He crushed my jaw and forced me to watch. "They called me your lap dog. I destroyed you to prove I was no dog." He thought he had all the time in the world to break me. He didn't know. When I had pulled him from that Rogue ambush in the ice, a moonstone shard had pierced my heart. I had three days left to live.

Despite being the Alpha Damien's mate on paper for the last seven years, Astrid knew that she could never come close to Taylor, her step-sister, and fated mate. Sadly, Taylor had been sickly from birth despite the Beta blood that ran in her veins. In order to strengthen the power of the Beta family her father pressured her into an arranged marriage with Alpha Damien, acting as a replacement for her step sister. Nearly a decade passed and Astrid continue to show undying devotion and loyalty to Alpha Damian yet he continued to treat her coldly. Taylor's already poor health worsened and the only thing that could save her was an immediate kidney transplant. Damien got down on his knees, shedding tears for the first time since she met him and promised Astrid that he'd forget all about Taylor if Astrid donated one of her kidneys for the life saving surgery. Astrid agreed to this but Damian did not keep his own part of the bargain, rather he framed her for infidelity once Taylor had recovered, rejecting Astrid and making her an object of ridicule. She fakes her death and disappears then returns with a with the deadly Alpha King by her side, thirsty for revenge.

One day before my wedding, my fiancé, Tristan, declared, “you can no longer be my bride." The reason? My sister, Victoria, had been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Her dying wish was for me to give up my place as the bride, so she could marry my fiancé instead. And Tristan agreed without hesitation. He even turning on me, "How can you be so heartless? She's your own sister!" The mocking smiles from my sister and the righteous anger from my fiancé left me broken. Little did I know, I would turn to the man I never anticipated—Rowan, my fiancé's uncle. He was the true power behind the family. Rumored to be ruthless, politically powerful, and never interested in women. However, I had never expected that he would took me in his arms tightly."Don't leave me."

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Research Center, and the only person in the world with experience in deep-sea rescue. When my sister’s submarine malfunctioned and was stranded ten thousand meters below the surface, I hung up on her distress call. Then I calmly walked into a police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research. A few minutes later, my father called. His voice was frantic and furious. “Your sister is missing. Where the hell are you? I’m ordering you to get to the site immediately and save her, or you won’t see a cent of the family inheritance!” I calmly pulled the blanket over my head and said into the phone, “I don’t have time, and you’re interrupting my sleep.”

Attending a high school reunion, I rode my motorcycle to the venue. By the time I arrived at the Moon Valley Hotel, most of my former classmates were already there. Everyone seemed to be doing well for themselves. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars belonging to high-ranking pack members. There was even a Rolls Royce that belonged to the son of an Alpha. As I dismounted from my motorcycle, a former male classmate I barely remembered looked at me with disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't our former class president. Still riding a basic bike like an omega, I see." During dinner, everyone was fawning over the Alpha's son while completely ignoring me in the corner. Only Derek, our former class monitor and now a beta, sat beside me with a sympathetic look. "Don't worry about it. Even though you're still just an omega like your parents, I'm sure one day you'll rise up in the pack rankings." I couldn't help but smirk, whispering under my breath: "This isn't just any motorcycle. It's the Royal Guard's official vehicle."

When I was three months pregnant, my Don husband’s so-called step sister, Ruby, showed up at my door. Her swollen belly was impossible to miss, “Donna, since my due date is so close, I thought you should know… the Don’s heir is in my belly.” She laid everything in front of me—intimate photos of her and Caleb, records of the weekly money transfers he sent her, even the deed to a mansion. The earliest dates traced back to the time I lost our first baby, when the doctors told me it would be difficult for me to conceive again. All these years, I had been enduring IVF treatments, desperately trying to carry our child once more—while he was fooling around with his so-called step sister. Well, if Caleb wanted another woman so badly, he could have her. I had no intention of staying anyway. I was already planning my leave.

"Ms. Rowe, are you certain you want to delete all identity records? Once they're erased, you'll be completely removed from the system. No one will be able to find you again." Eva Rowe pauses for a moment before nodding with quiet resolve. "Yes. I want to disappear from this world. I want to make sure no one can ever find me." Two seconds of silence follow on the other end, as if they're giving her one last chance to reconsider. "Understood, Ms. Rowe. The wipeout protocol will be completed within 14 days. By then, you'll be officially 'dead' in all databases. Please make the necessary arrangements." With that, the call ends. Eva books a one-way ticket to Felnor, scheduled for 14 days later. Then, she turns off her phone, watching as the screen goes dark. She stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the endless city lights, and lets out a soft, cold laugh. She is no longer anyone's Eva.