Marked By Fate

Marked By Fate

Nancy Robert

5.0
Comment(s)
60.5K
View
115
Chapters

Selene has spent her entire life as an outcast-a wolfless omega at the bottom of the Silver Claw Pack. Beaten down, used, and treated like nothing, she stopped dreaming of freedom a long time ago. Until the night she ran. With no pack and nowhere to go, she crosses into Black Oak territory, knowing it could mean her death. The Black Oak wolves are brutal, their Alpha even more so. But instead of being torn apart, she's given a chance-a chance to fight, to survive, to become something more than the weak girl everyone saw her as. For the first time, she's in control of her own fate. Until everything shifts again. Two months after her eighteenth birthday, the impossible happens-her wolf awakens. But the real shock comes in the dining hall, when she locks eyes with the last person she ever expected. Alpha Black. Feared. Ruthless. Untouchable. And now, her mate. But Selene has spent too long being unwanted, too long fighting for herself. She doesn't know how to trust this bond-or the man fate has tied her to. Because belonging to the most powerful Alpha in the region doesn't mean safety. It might just mean the most dangerous thing of all... giving someone the power to break her.

Chapter 1 Act 1

Grin, grin, grin, grin.

The alarm wouldn't shut the hell up.

I groaned and slapped around blindly, hand smacking the nightstand until I found the damn thing and hit it. Silence. Thank the Moon. My eyes were still closed, my body glued to the thin mattress like I could sink through it and vanish. I didn't even need to look to know it was still dark outside-no one else in the world was up at this hour unless they had a death wish or, like me, they were cursed with omega duties in the Alpha's house.

Five in the morning. Every single day.

No wolf. No rank. No future. Just me and the bottom of the pack, kissing dirt with a smile.

I laid there for another minute, staring at the ceiling even though I couldn't see it. The air was cold and stale. It smelled like wood and forgotten dreams-whatever that smells like. I could hear the quiet wheeze of the heater trying to work. It didn't. It hasn't in years.

Whatever.

I sat up slowly, every muscle in my back stiff from the rock-hard cot. My room was a closet. Four walls, no personality. One dresser, barely standing. A cracked mirror I refused to look in most days. What was the point?

If you're wondering who I am-fine. I'm Selene. Eighteen in three days. Five feet of nothing special. Sleek black hair that does what it wants, hazel eyes that don't sparkle, and a face people only remember to sneer at. My wolf has never showed up

In a pack like Silver Claw, that makes me a joke. An embarrassment. The kind of girl people think it's okay to shove into lockers, dump their food on, trip in the hallways, whisper about like I can't hear them.

I hear everything.

My mom died when I was little. I don't remember her much-just the smell of her perfume when she hugged me and the sound of her humming at night when she thought I was asleep. She was warmth.

Dad... he tried. For a while. Then he met Lilian.

She was human, which was rare enough in this world, but somehow, she made him smile again. Made our house feel like it had walls instead of just shadows. I expected her to hate me, like everyone else did. I waited for it. But she didn't. She loved me. Really loved me. Not out of pity. She just... did.

Then Rhea came along-my little sister. Eight years old now, all sunshine and toothy grins, like the world hasn't bitten her yet. She's everything I'm not. She looks at me like I'm someone worth loving.

I'd burn the world down before I let anything happen to her.

I got dressed in the dark, like always. Same pants, same shirt, same tight braid pulling my red hair back so no one could grab it when they got bored at school. I knew how to dress for survival, not attention.

I moved through the hallway quietly, careful not to wake anyone. Lilian didn't deserve to be up this early, and Rhea-she needed sleep. She had a field trip today or something. I'd promised I'd try to get home in time to hear all about it.

If no one beat the crap out of me before then.

Outside, the cold slapped me in the face the second I stepped off the porch. The sun wasn't even up yet. Just that icy blue nothingness before dawn. My breath fogged in front of me, and the path to the Alpha's house stretched ahead like a trail of punishment.

Up the hill. Past the guards who never looked at me. Through the servants' door like the help I was.

The Alpha's quarters were all stone and glass, luxury stacked on top of power. Even the damn floor smelled expensive. I didn't belong there. But I still had to clean every inch of it like my life depended on it. Because it kinda did.

Kitchen. Dining room. Polishing the staircase banister. Scrubbing bathrooms used by people who wouldn't even spit in my direction unless it was on purpose. That was the routine.

And if I missed a spot?

They'd make sure I knew.

Some days it was verbal. Most days it wasn't.

They liked keeping me bruised and quiet. It made them feel stronger.

By the time I was finished, my shirt was soaked with sweat, my fingers red and raw, and the sun was finally dragging itself up over the treetops. I still had to get to school. Because gods forbid I miss a day of being reminded just how unwanted I was there too.

Silver Claw High. A beautiful blend of fake smiles, real claws, and endless reminders that I was less than everyone else. Classes were half normal subjects, half pack training. Everyone else trained with their wolves. I sat in the corner, watched them shift, and took notes like a loser.

"Selene," someone called as I stepped into the courtyard.

Damian

Of course.

Continue Reading

Other books by Nancy Robert

More

You'll also like

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

The Billionaire's Cold And Bitter Betrayal

Clara Bennett
5.0

I had just survived a private jet crash, my body a map of violet bruises and my lungs still burning from the smoke. I woke up in a sterile hospital room, gasping for my husband's name, only to realize I was completely alone. While I was bleeding in a ditch, my husband, Adam, was on the news smiling at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. When I tracked him down at the hospital's VIP wing, I didn't find a grieving husband. I found him tenderly cradling his ex-girlfriend, Casie, in his arms, his face lit with a protective warmth he had never shown me as he carried her into the maternity ward. The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. Adam admitted the affair started on our third anniversary-the night he claimed he was stuck in London for a merger. Back at the manor, his mother had already filled our planned nursery with pink boutique bags for Casie's "little princess." When I demanded a divorce, Adam didn't flinch. He sneered that I was "gutter trash" from a foster home and that I'd be begging on the streets within a week. To trap me, he froze my bank accounts, cancelled my flight, and even called the police to report me for "theft" of company property. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a charity case he had plucked from obscurity to manage his life. To the Hortons, I was just a servant who happened to sleep in the master bedroom, a "resilient" woman meant to endure his abuse in silence while the whole world laughed at the joke that was my marriage. Adam thought stripping me of his money would make me crawl back to him. He was wrong. I walked into his executive suite during his biggest deal of the year and poured a mug of sludge over his original ten-million-dollar contracts. Then, right in front of his board and his mistress, I stripped off every designer thread he had ever paid for until I was standing in nothing but my own silk camisole. "You can keep the clothes, Adam. They're as hollow as you are." I grabbed my passport, turned my back on his billions, and walked out of that glass tower barefoot, bleeding, and finally free.

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

The Scars Behind My Golden Dress

Catherine
5.0

I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind.

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

Rising From Wreckage: Starfall's Epic Comeback

Huo Wuer
4.5

Rain hammered against the asphalt as my sedan spun violently into the guardrail on the I-95. Blood trickled down my temple, stinging my eyes, while the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers mocked my panic. Trembling, I dialed my husband, Clive. His executive assistant answered instead, his voice professional and utterly cold. "Mr. Wilson says to stop the theatrics. He said, and I quote, 'Hang up. Tell her I don’t have time for her emotional blackmail tonight.'" The line went dead while I was still trapped in the wreckage. At the hospital, I watched the news footage of Clive wrapping his jacket around his "fragile" ex-girlfriend, Angelena, shielding her from the storm I was currently bleeding in. When I returned to our penthouse, I found a prenatal ultrasound in his suit pocket, dated the day he claimed to be on a business trip. Instead of an apology, Clive met me with a sneer. He told me I was nothing but an "expensive decoration" his father bought to make him look stable. He froze my bank accounts and cut off my cards, waiting for the hunger to drive me back to his feet. I stared at the man I had loved for four years, realizing he didn't just want a wife; he wanted a prop he could switch off. He thought he could starve me into submission while he played father to another woman's child. But Clive forgot one thing. Before I was his trophy wife, I was Starfall—the legendary voice actress who vanished at the height of her fame. "I'm not jealous, Clive. I'm done." I grabbed my old microphone and walked out. I’m not just leaving him; I’m taking the lead role in the biggest saga in Hollywood—the one Angelena is desperate for. This time, the "decoration" is going to burn his world down.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book