Shi Liu
18 Published Stories
Shi Liu's Books and Stories
Too Late For The Alpha's Regret
Werewolf I spent seven years in a frozen outpost as punishment for saving my fated mate's life. My family called my sacrifice dark magic, a crime that shamed our name.
When I finally came home, I found my adoptive sister, Briar, wearing my life like a stolen dress. She had my parents' love and my mate's devotion, all built on the lie that she was the one who had saved him.
They forced me to sleep in the attic and serve champagne at the party celebrating her. My own mother called me a disgrace.
My mate, Alpha Ryker, planned to formally reject me and bond with her in front of the entire pack. He demanded I stand by and bless their union.
He looked at her feigned weakness and called it a noble sacrifice. He looked at my broken spirit and called it a stain on his honor.
Then my brother found the old medical files proving I was the one who nearly died for him. The truth came out at the altar, right as Ryker was about to bond with my sister. But by then, I was already gone, a rogue wolf with nothing left to lose. The Unwanted Wife's Revenge
Billionaires Seven years married to the tech CEO New York adored, I was the picture-perfect wife in a gilded cage.
Nine months pregnant, I stood beside him at a glamorous gala, watching as his mistress caused a humiliating scene.
Instead of managing her, he hissed, "Sarah, fix this," forcing me to apologize while my water broke.
He dismissed my agonizing labor as "dramatic," then celebrated his mistress's birthday while I bled out, alone, in the hospital.
Days later, he brought her into *our* opulent penthouse, where she staged a vicious fake attack.
When she cut herself, he roared at me to apologize for her bleeding.
Looking at my own wrist, I pressed a letter opener to old scars, a silent cry for help.
He saw it, then sneered, "What, self-harm for attention now? Pathetic."
His methodical abuse, his casual cruelty, had stripped away every shred of my self-worth.
How could the world’s most celebrated man be such a soulless monster in private?
Why was I, the victim, always to blame, discarded at will?
My heart, once broken, solidified into a cold, unbreakable resolve.
There was only one way out of this living hell.
I orchestrated a final, humiliating public confession, painting myself as the villain.
Then, I meticulously staged my own dramatic death, vanishing from the world's stage.
Sarah Hayes was officially gone.
But Sadie? Sadie was just beginning to live, finally free. The Caged Canary Finds Her Sky
Modern My hands shook as I stared at the pregnancy test: "Pregnant." My dream of a family, born from a lonely orphanage childhood, was finally coming true. Then, a woman's laugh on the intercom, followed by Holden's cold voice revealing I was just a "tool" he'd dump with a check.
The digital screen glowed, announcing the life growing inside me. After years in sterile orphanage rooms, I was finally going to build the complete home I always craved. I planned a romantic surprise for Holden, eager to share our news.
But then, a piercing static from the intercom panel shattered the quiet. A woman’s purr, Estella’s voice, cut through the air, asking Holden when he’d dump "that boring, common woman upstairs." Holden’s reply, flat and calculating, revealed I was merely a spotless tool to clean up his family's image, to be discarded after next month's charity gala.
My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the freezing tile, the pregnancy test now a disgusting joke. Holden’s footsteps approached, forcing me to hide the symbol of my shattered future deep in my makeup bag, dreading his discovery.
He later presented a brutal prenuptial agreement, ensuring I'd leave with nothing. At a family dinner, Estella, adorned with the diamond necklace Holden bought for his "future wife," publicly humiliated me by spilling wine on my gown, while Holden embraced her and coldly ordered me to clean myself up.
My tears stopped. The pathetic, frightened mask melted away, revealing a woman no longer naive, no longer controlled. Wiping away the ink of his false promises, I clutched my flat stomach, a silent vow forming. He thought I’d leave with a check and my shame, but I would make Holden Dalton learn what a real price was. Kaitlynn and her two children
Romance Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it. Wrong Room: The Ruthless CEO's Captive
Romance I stumbled into the wrong hotel room while drunk and accidentally lost my virginity to a stranger in the pitch black.
I fled at dawn, hoping to erase the painful mistake. But when I went to a private clinic for a checkup, the "doctor" who walked in and locked the door was him—Cain Reed, a billionaire who coldly declared my body was now his "responsibility."
When I tried to escape, he cornered me in the parking garage, threw me into his bulletproof Maybach, and locked me inside his high-security Tribeca penthouse.
He had already investigated my entire life—my abandoned childhood, my dead grandmother, my student loans.
"You took my first time, and I took yours," he whispered, pinning me against the glass. "You belong to me now."
He demanded my complete submission, threatening to stalk my job and my apartment if I dared to run again.
I was terrified and suffocating. Why me? Out of all the women in New York, why was this ruthless, powerful man so dangerously obsessed with a nobody who made a drunken mistake?
His possessive need felt like drowning, a gilded cage I would never escape.
I couldn't let him consume me. Pretending to surrender, I negotiated a public date and watched his luxury car drive away.
Then, I pulled out my phone and texted an old college acquaintance.
If Cain Reed wanted to control my life, I was going to create a "serious boyfriend" to fight back. The CEO's Secret Son, My Betrayal
Modern After years of failed fertility treatments, I finally got the news I' d been dreaming of: I was pregnant with my husband' s baby.
That same day, I discovered my perfect CEO husband, Harrison Ellis, had a secret. A five-year-old son with his high school sweetheart, a woman from his past I thought was long gone.
This wasn't just an affair; it was a parallel life he'd meticulously hidden for years. He gave the private island he promised our baby to his other son. His entire family celebrated the boy's birthday, calling the other woman "Mrs. Bradshaw" while I watched from the shadows, completely invisible.
He told me I was his everything, that he'd never betray me. But every promise was a lie, every touch a performance. I was just a placeholder in a life that was never truly mine, a trophy wife to maintain his perfect public image.
To protect my unborn child from his world of lies, I had to disappear completely.
So I faked my own death in a fiery plane crash, leaving him with only a pregnancy report and the video of his betrayal to remember me by. He Chose The Dog; I Chose Empire
Modern My masterpiece perfume launch ended in chaos, with my creation blamed for a mass allergic reaction that sent people to the hospital.
My fiancé, Blake, the man who had promised me the world, was the one who framed me.
He exiled me to a remote cabin for three years, claiming he was protecting me. In reality, he had his twin brother impersonate him, stealing every new formula I created and giving them to my foster sister, Carly, who became a star with my work.
When I finally confronted them, the building we were in collapsed. I was trapped under rubble, bleeding out.
Rescuers gave Blake a choice: save me, or save Carly's dog from a different, unstable area.
"Save the dog," he said. "Emily is strong. She can wait."
He left me to die.
But I survived. Rescued by the powerful parents I had pushed away, I was given a new identity and a new life in Switzerland. Now, I'm building my own empire, and I'm coming back to burn theirs to the ground. The Fiancé's Treachery: A Dancer's Vengeance
Modern My brother, Douglas, and my fiancé, Connor, were the two people in the world I trusted most.
And they were the ones who destroyed my life. They hired thugs to attack me, leaving me paralyzed from the waist down and ending my career as a Broadway dancer.
In the hospital, I overheard them confess it was all for my jealous cousin, Isla.
When their guilt became too much, they orchestrated a public scandal to ruin my name, turning me from a tragic victim into a freak.
Finally, they left me to die in a yacht explosion, choosing to save Isla instead of me.
I was their family's princess, but they sacrificed me on the altar of their pity for a manipulative liar.
But a mysterious benefactor offered me a deal: a new, perfect body and the power to destroy them all. Now, I've returned, pretending to be a long-lost twin with amnesia. They think they've been given a second chance. They have no idea I'm here to collect a debt. The Billionaire's Perfect, Plastic Wife
Billionaires For five years, I played the part of the perfect wife to Knox Steele, heir to a media empire. My life was a curated masterpiece, a reward for surviving the car accident his stepsister, Gemma, caused-an accident that was meant to kill me.
At a charity gala, I saw her. Gemma, supposed to be locked away in rehab, was glowing. She was holding the hand of a small boy. And next to her, laughing as the boy tugged on his jacket, was my husband.
Hiding in the shadows, I heard the boy call Knox "Daddy." I heard them planning his birthday party for the next day at our lake house-a "family-only" trip I was, as always, excluded from.
Then I heard Gemma' s voice, laced with poison. "What about Adelaide? Will she be a problem?"
"Don't worry about her," Knox said, his tone dismissive. "I'll tell her it's a business retreat. She'll stay home like a good little wife. Poor thing."
My entire five-year marriage was a performance. A carefully constructed cage to keep me quiet while they lived their real life right under my nose. I wasn't family. I was the cover story.
But the final betrayal was discovering their plan to drug my morning coffee, to keep me sedated and "unwell" so I wouldn't interfere with their celebration. They weren't just lying to me; they were going to incapacitate me.
That's when the woman he married died. I signed the divorce papers, walking away from billions. I wanted nothing from them but their ruin. And as I watched them cut the birthday cake at the lake house, I smiled. My gift was on its way. Replaced: A Husband's Revenge
Modern "Mr. Phantom, are you sure you want to enter the national street art competition?" the voice on the phone asked, echoing in my lavish penthouse. I, Ethan Hayes, the true Phantom, stared at my reflection, the city lights blurring like the last ten years of my life. I was back.\n\nThe memories hit me-the alley, the sickening crunch of bone, the mangled hands. Olivia, my wife, her eyes cold, furious, saying, "This competition can only be won by 'Phantom'! Anyone who threatens him will be eliminated, and that includes you!" She thought Mark Jensen, my ambitious assistant, was Phantom, my savior. She bought him this penthouse. My art saved her from suicide, but she mistook my pain for jealousy, then had my hands broken when I tried to reclaim my identity.\n\nAt the charity auction, she introduced Mark as Phantom, spending millions on his "art." When my own painting, "Three Days"-a raw depiction of my torture during kidnapping-came up, I desperately bid for it. But she outbid me, buying it for Mark, whispering, "This painting belongs to a true artist. It belongs with Mark."\n\nLater, she orchestrated a horrifying re-enactment of my kidnapping, breaking my hands again for Mark's "inspiration." My own wife. She then forced me to sign a contract in the hospital, giving up my identity as Phantom and agreeing to a divorce, all to save my hands. I signed, but not before telling her, "After this, we are nothing. You are not my wife. I am not your husband. We will be strangers."\n\nI was worthless to her, an embarrassing attachment. But I was Ethan Hayes, the true Phantom, and I wouldn't be destroyed again. I left, starting fresh in a new city, fueled by a promise: the world would see the real Phantom's work, and my revenge would be swift and quiet. His Cruel Betrayal, My Dying Wish
Romance My husband, Liam, locked me out of our bedroom for the third night, a faint murmur of voices audible from inside-his low and soothing, hers soft and appreciative. Chloe, eight months pregnant with his child, was in my bed.
But I had just finished massaging Chloe' s swollen feet, even making her warm milk. This was the same husband who had built our ten-year marriage on the unwavering foundation that we would be child-free. And when the baby cried from the nursery down the hall, it wasn' t Chloe who rose, but me, spending the entire night caring for their child.
The next morning, I learned Chloe had a "dying wish": to be Liam's wife. He presented me with divorce papers, asking me to sign. He believed I had finally understood what it meant to be a selfless wife. He thought he had broken me, that this was his ultimate victory.
He was wrong. I wasn' t broken; I was dying. Stage-four stomach cancer, inoperable, aggressive. Three days to live.
As I nursed his child, listening to him make love to Chloe in our bed, the pain in my stomach sharpened. The irony tasted metallic. The next morning, Liam handed me black coffee-the kind Chloe liked, the kind that upset my stomach-and again, the divorce papers.
When Chloe later appeared, wrapped in my silk robe and wearing the "Star of the Ocean" necklace I had coveted, she taunted me with Liam's dismissal of my desire for it. Overwhelmed, I collapsed, but when Liam appeared, he slapped me, then had his bodyguards drag me away. He called me a jealous, bitter monster.
Why would he, the man I loved, turn so cruel? How could he believe such lies? Why did the universe allow me no peace, even in my final moments?
I refused to be his broken toy. With the last of my strength, I offered him my entire company, signed over with a bloody thumbprint. Then, in an act of final defiance, I cut down the magnolia tree-the symbol of our love-and burned all my memories. My death was not just an ending, but a deliberate unmaking of his world, a final, painful act of rebellion. The Roommate From Hell
Young Adult My college life started with a simple rule from my roommate, Mark: "We split everything fifty-fifty, Alex. It' s the only fair way."
I soon learned his definition of "fair" was a twisted, one-way street designed for his benefit, starting with my Dr. Pepper and escalating to demanding half the cost of my brand new MacBook.
He' d use my things, then insist I pay him for the privilege, always with the same infuriating phrase: "It's only fair, Alex. We AA it."
I was trapped, spending every day swatting away his increasingly absurd demands, from "sleep taxes" to "sunlight fees," all while the university' s housing office dismissed my pleas, saying they couldn' t help without a "documented, serious incident."
Then he decided to create one himself, turning his petty schemes into a public spectacle that would ruin my reputation.
I rushed to the Student Life building to find Mark slumped in a chair, crying theatrical tears, while a mountain of expensive groceries sat before him.
He pointed a trembling finger at me, wailing, "He made me buy all this food and then refused to pay! I don' t have any money left!"
The school counselor, Mr. Harrison, listened, his face etched with concern, while the crowd whispered, judging me.
They saw an unfeeling rich kid, a jerk who' d exploited his poor roommate, all based on Mark' s carefully orchestrated performance.
I felt a hot surge of anger, a hundred rebuttals caught in my throat; I was on trial and already convicted.
But this time, I wasn' t going to just take it: "I' m not paying one cent, Mr. Harrison, because he didn' t use his money. He used mine." The Capitol Wife's Revenge
Romance For five years, I played the silent partner to Matthew's rising political career, sacrificing my MFA, my novel, and my own dreams for his ambition.
Our grand Georgetown apartment, that rich smell of my slow-cooked short ribs—it used to be the scent of home.
Then came the text: "Completely buried. Not going to make it home."
An hour later, scrolling in my dark apartment, I saw the Instagram post.
Matthew, arm casually draped behind his young, beaming mentee, Gabrielle, at a dive bar.
"Grateful to have a mentor who gets that the real work happens after hours."
My stomach churned, but something cold settled in my chest.
This wasn't just a missed anniversary; it was a public declaration of where I ranked.
When he called, sharp with annoyance about the single word I'd commented—"Impressive"—accusing me of overthinking, a chilling clarity descended.
I saw the years of excuses, the skipped family funerals, the career-first mentality that always left me second.
Was I crazy?
Was I really "overthinking" how my own dreams were dismissed as a hobby while his were a calling?
Was I just the "homebody," the one he occasionally "fit in"?
But that night, as if a spell had broken, I didn't cry.
I didn't confront.
I walked past the cold coffee machine, looked at the cheap, afterthought anniversary gift, and realized: the quiet woman who put Matthew first was gone.
And it was time to write a new ending, for myself. The Scorned Bride's Masterpiece
Romance My fiancé, Ethan, and I were planning our dream wedding in a country club brimming with lilies and privilege. Then, I saw her: Molly, the intern, visibly pregnant, looking distraught. Ethan rushed to her side, his gesture possessive, his absence a familiar sting.
He returned, announcing her pregnancy was "a one-time mistake" but "she carries the child, and you don't have to go through the trouble. We'll raise the baby as ours. It's a perfect solution." His words hit me like a physical blow, a callous disregard for the miscarriage I' d just hidden, caused by his own genetic issue.
Despite the humiliation and public admonishment from Ethan later, I was forced to play the part of the compliant fiancée. I watched as my life was moved to a guest room in the penthouse that was supposed to be our home, while Molly, propped up like a queen, directed movers and even demanded I cook her seafood risotto – knowing full well I knew about her shellfish allergy. My attempt to expose her resulted in Ethan violently attacking me and dragging me to the hospital to apologize.
How could he be so blind? So cruel? How could he not see the manipulation, the cold calculation in her eyes? Why was I, his fiancée, being punished for their secret?
But in that hospital room, a flicker of light: Molly' s O-negative blood type on her medical bracelet. Ethan' s AB-positive. A baby couldn' t inherit that combination. The child wasn't his. In that moment, something inside me shifted. The love died. The war began. Beneath the Uniform: A Soldier's Betrayal
Modern As a military wife, I simply wanted to get my son, Les, an ID card at the Fort Cypress DEERS office so he could finally access vital medical care for his persistent cough.
But the clerk's chilling words revealed a nightmare: my husband, Captain Michael Turner, had fraudulently listed another child, Tyler-Brenda' s son-as his dependent, effectively denying our own son access to military benefits while living a brazen double life.
This current betrayal was a devastating echo of a past I now remembered, where Michael's neglect led to Les' s abduction and my utter despair, as he continued his cruelty by dismissing Les' s worsening illness and even slapping him for crying over a destroyed toy.
The burning injustice solidified within me, leaving me furious and bewildered at how this military officer could so callously betray his family, neglect his child, and brazenly defraud the very system he swore to serve, especially as town whispers and Michael' s legal threats tightened their grip around me.
No more: Michael' s final, cruel slap on Les' s innocent face wasn't a defeat but the ultimate catalyst, igniting an unyielding resolve within me to fight back, expose his every lie, and ensure that armed with the bitter lessons of a nightmare past, Captain Michael Turner would face true justice at Fort Cypress, securing my son a future he deserved. Watching My Family Burn
Fantasy I woke up floating.
Not in a dream, but tethered to a nightmare.
My body lay cold on the bed, while my son, Leo, whispered, "Papa won't wake up."
My wife, Eleanor, stood by the door, her face a mask of ice. I was a ghost, able to watch, but powerless to intervene.
Then Julian Croft appeared, oozing charm and false sympathy. The man who'd received my liver, the root of my demise.
Eleanor dismissed Leo's desperate pleas, accusing *me* of manipulation, of using our son. She chose Julian, leaving Leo behind, a small, trembling figure in our empty home.
What followed was agony. I watched my seven-year-old journey miles to her office, only to be publicly humiliated, framed by Julian, and then viciously beaten.
Eleanor, blind to the truth, abandoned him again, leaving him bruised and alone in a dark alley.
My spirit seethed, consumed by a cold, useless rage. How could she believe such lies? How could she discard her own child so easily?
The injustice was unbearable. I was murdered, my son brutalized, and the woman I loved stood by my killer. I longed to warn her, to protect Leo, but I was just air. A silent scream.
Then Julian delivered the final blow: my little boy was tossed into the freezing Hudson River.
But as Leo's small form sank into the darkness, a desperate hope ignited. A stranger, an angel, pulled him from the depths.
My death was real, my son's suffering unbearable. And now, the true battle for justice, and for Leo's future, was about to begin. You might like
Forsaken by the Pack, Mated to the Secret Lycan King
Da Lanlan For two years, I was Alpha Jase Davenport's loyal assistant and secret bed-warmer. Because I was a wolfless Omega, I trusted his empty promises instead of instincts I didn't possess.
Then, a push notification from a notorious gossip blog shattered my world.
Jase was pictured in Paris, his hand intimately resting on the waist of my cruel stepsister, Kira. The headline screamed that he was finally claiming his fated Luna.
Before I could even process the betrayal, Jase texted me a cold command to update his schedule, treating me like a soulless employee.
Immediately after, my mother called to gloat.
"Did you honestly believe an Alpha like Jase would settle for a defective creature like you?"
She threatened to freeze my late father's Pack trust fund unless I agreed to marry an abusive, elderly Alpha to be his breeding mare. If I refused, I would be cast out as a penniless stray, easy prey for any Rogue.
I was nothing but a convenient placeholder to Jase, and a piece of livestock to my own family. They thought they had me completely cornered, ready to steal my inheritance and leave me to die.
But as the panic subsided, a cold clarity took its place. My father's will only required a legal mating bond to unlock my millions; it never said my family had to approve of the groom.
I wiped my tears, opened my laptop, and searched for a disgraced, debt-ridden Rogue named Babe Vincent.
If I needed a husband on paper to secure my freedom, I was going to buy one. Rejected Luna, Claimed by the King
Rabbit As a wolfless charity case at the Hyde Pack's celebration, my world shattered when Braydon, my supposed protector, publicly announced Katherine Parrish as his Luna, erasing me.
Heartbroken, I fled into a terrifying contract marriage with Alpha King Dallas Marshall for protection. Braydon's public assault and threats forced me to reveal my secret marriage, challenging the King.
My "protection" felt like a prison. Braydon revealed I was a "key" to power, not a mate, confirming my fears. Enraged by my attempt to take a morning-after pill, Dallas forced me to swallow it, then branded my lips with a furious kiss.
His chilling silence hardened my resolve. I immediately drafted an addendum to our contract, setting strict boundaries to reclaim control.
Rejected by the Heir, Claimed by the Lycan King
Annabell Seto I was a wolfless Omega, sold to the powerful Blackwood Pack to save my bankrupt family from ruin.
But on my wedding day, as I walked down the aisle alone, my groom didn't show up.
Braden, the Alpha heir, had abandoned me at the altar. He boarded a private jet with his scentless human mistress, leaving me to face the cruel mockery of the most powerful Alphas in North America.
To clean up his mess, the Dowager Luna offered me two humiliating replacements to fulfill our sacred marriage treaty: a brute who despised me, or a trembling coward who couldn't even look me in the eye.
The pack members sneered, publicly screaming that I was nothing but "leftovers" and a rejected stray.
They expected me to lower my head, accept their scraps, and remain a pathetic pawn in their political games. They thought a fragile, wolfless girl would just break down and cry.
But a white-hot pride ignited in my soul. I refused to be their victim.
I rejected both of their pathetic options and pointed directly at the most terrifying man in the room—the Lycan King himself.
"I demand a replacement. I choose him."
I didn't just escape humiliation; I forced the ruthless King to make me his Queen.
Now, I am the Luna of the entire pack, wielding the power to control their fate, and stepmother to the coward who threw me away.
It's time to teach these beasts exactly who they are dealing with. Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan
Kellie Brown When I woke up with a hangover, I found a handsome and naked stranger sleeping beside me.
---
I'm Tanya, a surrogate's daughter, an omega with no wolf and no scent.
On my 18th birthday, when I planned to give my virginity to my boyfriend, I found him sleeping with my sister.
I went to the bar to get drunk, and accidentally had a one-night stand with the handsome stranger.
I thought he was just an ordinary werewolf, but they said he was Marco, the alpha prince and the most powerful Lycan in our kingdom.
'You slut, you're pregnant! Fortunately, Rick is kind enough to let you be his mistress and save you from shame.' my stepmother said, tossing a pregnancy strip on the table.
Rick was an old pervert. No she-wolf could keep up with his sexual demand. No she-wolf could survive with him more than 1 year.
When I was in despair, Marco came to my rescue. He got down on one knee, took out a ring and said he would marry me.
---
I thought Marco married me because he loved me, but later I found that was not the truth... The Moonless She-Wolf: Rejected By The Pack, Desired By The Alpha
Canal In a world where weakness could cost someone their life, Ava Grey had been born without a wolf, and all she had ever faced was rejection and suffering. Her own kind had cast her aside, and a strange scar marked her with a secret she still didn't understand.
More than anything, she had wanted to break free from it all. Then, on the night of the Lunar Gala, everything changed.
It started with a single glance. One brief encounter. A bond formed against all reason and tied her to Lucas Westwood, the Alpha of the rival pack, the very man she should've stayed away from.
Surrounded by hatred, rising conflict, and a fate she couldn't escape, Ava came to realize that what made her different wasn't a curse at all. It was a power others both craved and feared.
As tensions grew, the packs moved closer to war. Alliances began to fall apart. In the middle of it all, one truth slowly revealed itself. The real danger wasn't the monster they thought they were fighting. His Rejected Omega, The Cruel Alpha King's Mate
Yi Shi I am the Fated Mate of Alpha Damien Blackwood, but because I was born a wolfless Omega, I was kept as his dirty little secret.
The constant rejection from my mate was literally killing me. The Pack Healer handed me my death sentence: Terminal Soul Wither. My life was ticking down to its final months.
While I sat in the dark, dying and gasping for air, Damien threw a twenty-million-dollar fireworks festival for his chosen future Luna, Isabelle. When he finally came home, reeking of her perfume, he only looked at me with eyes as cold as winter ice.
"It's your ovulation window. Let's get this over with."
He only wanted to use me to breed a powerful heir. He threatened to exile my only remaining family if I didn't comply, and even ordered me to draft a legal petition to invalidate my own existence so Isabelle could take my place. Even my adopted brother Jax, whom I suffered for years to protect, publicly threw me to the dirt just to ally with a powerful Pack.
I sacrificed my brilliant future as a top strategist to marry Damien, enduring three years of abuse and isolation. Why did I have to rot away in agony while they celebrated my replacement on glossy magazines?
I wouldn't let them watch me die in their golden cage. I signed the ancient Rejection petition, dropped the manor keys, and walked out into the freezing night.
This time, I chose to sever the bond myself. Alpha's Regret: Losing His True Mate
Only_Shila For years, I belonged to him. Not his mate. Not his love.
But his bedmate. His Gamma. His shadow in the night.
Alpha Calhoun made sure no man dared touch me, no wolf dared look at me. I was his possession, his secret, his sin wrapped in skin. And I endured it all-his rough hands, his dark devotion, his kisses that tasted like fire and chains because at least, for a while, he was mine.
Until she returned. His destined mate. His so-called true love.
And suddenly, I was nothing. Cast aside, silenced, left to wither in the shadows of a love that had never been mine to claim.
But the thing about being claimed by a man like Calhoun. is that he never truly lets you go.
"Try to leave me, Elodie," his voice had been a snarl against my throat, his grip bruising my waist. "I'll burn down every border, tear apart every wolf that stands in my way, until you crawl back to me. You're mine, even if the Moon Goddess herself wants to rip you away."
He didn't know then that I already had one foot out the door.
And when I finally left his pack.
I took more than just my broken heart with me. 
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