Fritz Heaney
14 Published Stories
Fritz Heaney's Books and Stories
From Rejected Omega to the Supreme White Wolf
Werewolf I was dying at the banquet, coughing up black blood while the pack celebrated my step-sister Lydia’s promotion.
Across the room, Caleb, the Alpha and my Fated Mate, didn't look concerned. He looked annoyed.
"Stop it, Elena," his voice boomed in my head. "Don't ruin this night with your attention-seeking lies."
I begged him, telling him it was poison, but he just ordered me to leave his Pack House so I wouldn't dirty the floor.
Heartbroken, I publicly demanded the Severing Ceremony to break our bond and left to die alone in a cheap motel.
Only after I took my last breath did the truth come out.
I sent Caleb the medical records proving Lydia had been poisoning my tea with wolfsbane for ten years.
He went mad with grief, realizing he had protected the murderer and rejected his true mate. He tortured Lydia, but his regret couldn't bring me back.
Or so he thought.
In the afterlife, the Moon Goddess showed me my reflection. I wasn't a wolfless weakling.
I was a White Wolf, the rarest and most powerful of all, suppressed by poison.
"You can stay here in peace," the Goddess said. "Or you can go back."
I looked at the life they stole from me. I looked at the power I never got to use.
"I want to go back," I said. "Not for his love. But for revenge."
I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, my wolf roared. Signed The Papers: Watch Me Shine Now
Billionaires For six years, I was the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Hartwell Ware, enduring his coldness because I thought my love could eventually thaw his heart.
Then, my friend sent me a photo. Hartwell was at the airport, tenderly holding the waist of his first love, Eveline Craig.
He came home smelling of her synthetic rose perfume, accused me of stalking him, and coldly demanded a divorce.
His lawyer handed me a thick settlement agreement. It offered astronomical alimony and luxury properties, but it came with a humiliating ten-page non-disclosure agreement.
He wanted to buy my silence. He wanted to strip me of my rights to our son and gag me permanently, just so he could parade his new life with Eveline without any PR backlash.
Even now, he still thought I was a gold digger who had orchestrated a media scandal to trap him into marriage.
I stared at the man I had worshipped for two thousand days. My six years of desperate devotion had been nothing but a humiliating, one-sided delusion.
Hope was finally dead, and with it, my tears had completely dried up.
He expected me to cry, to beg, to negotiate for more millions.
Instead, I snatched the pen, crossed out the massive alimony, and signed my name on the dotted line.
"I am taking the basic child support, and not a single red cent more."
Leaving my five-carat diamond ring on the marble table, I walked out the door with nothing but my old suitcase. The Jilted Heiress And The Cold CEO
Romance For five years in London, I held onto the Carlisle patriarch's promise: when I returned, Ethan and I would finally get married.
But when I rushed into Ethan's arms at the airport, his phone rang, and everything shattered.
"Just picking up my sister," he cooed to the woman on the other end.
He didn't take me home. He drove straight to his girlfriend, Morgan, letting her passionately kiss him right in front of me. At my welcome party, Morgan deliberately rigged a game of Truth or Dare to publicly humiliate me. She forced Ethan to choose between his girlfriend and his "ward" of a sister. Under the flashing club lights, the man who had chased away every guy I ever talked to just sat there, letting his friends tear me apart as a pathetic joke.
I didn't understand. If I was just a sister, why did he call me every night? Why did he spend years giving me false hope, only to trample on my dignity so casually?
Standing outside the club, shivering and utterly disillusioned, I made my choice.
I turned my back on Ethan and walked straight toward Damien Carlisle—the ruthless, terrifying family CEO everyone feared.
"I want to work in your department," I told him.
I was done being their fragile little ornament. It was time to build an empire of my own. Rejecting The Pack: I Need One Mate
Fantasy In our beast world, females are treated as nothing more than precious breeding stock to keep the pack strong. As the pack's best Mender, I spent all my time focusing on my healing herbs, completely ignoring my maturity ritual.
But tonight, the blind pack elder grabbed my wrist and delivered a chilling ultimatum.
If I don't choose my mates by the next Full Moon, the Council of Elders will force a match and assign them to me.
The threat is already suffocating. Arrogant, elite warriors like Caleb Quinn are pacing outside my door like starving wolves, stalking my porch and using pack business to corner me. At home, the reality of multiple mates is even worse. My mother has two mates—my father, the strongest Alpha, and my cold, intellectual step-father. Their toxic, murderous jealousy turns our house into a daily war zone. They literally unleash suffocating killing intent on innocent cubs just for hugging my mother.
I am disgusted by this sick, possessive obsession. I refuse to let my life become a battlefield of jealous males fighting over who gets to guard my door, and I absolutely refuse to be forced into a harem by the Elders.
So, I made a declaration that shocked my entire family and broke every pack tradition.
"I will only ever take one mate."
And to make sure none of those predatory warriors can touch me, I set an impossible trap.
"Whoever wants me must defeat my father first." His Unwanted Wife Is A Genius Designer
Billionaires For six years, I played the perfect, submissive wife to Wall Street titan Francis Castro. I suffocated my own ambitions to fit into his conservative world.
But while I waited alone at a Michelin restaurant, a news alert popped up. My husband had just dropped millions on an aquamarine diamond necklace for his "muse," Chanelle.
The real nightmare began when I rushed home to find our five-year-old son in severe anaphylactic shock. I frantically called Francis from the ambulance, but he manually rejected my calls. He couldn't leave the bidding war for Chanelle's PR launch.
When he finally arrived at the ER, Chanelle was right beside him, wearing that blinding multi-million-dollar necklace. He didn't ask about our dying son.
"Why weren't you watching him?" he demanded, his voice hard and accusing.
And when my son woke up, hazy from the drugs, he rejected my touch and reached for Chanelle instead. Francis just stood there, praising Chanelle for knowing exactly how to calm him down.
I stared at the three of them looking like a perfect, happy family. Six years of swallowing my pride, only to realize my husband would let our son choke to death just to buy another woman's smile.
The last thread of my heart snapped. I handed him the divorce papers, demanding zero alimony. Then, I drove to a hidden Brooklyn loft, cut off my hair, and unlocked my safe.
It was time to resurrect my true identity—the legendary fashion designer, Ember.J. I am going to burn her empire to the ground. One Night With The Possessive CEO
Billionaires Bridget left the office early on her anniversary, her pocket heavy with a custom velvet ring box meant for her fiancé.
But when she pushed open the bedroom door, she found him tangled in their bed with her best friend, Chloe.
"Bridget! Wait, it's not what it looks like!" Jacob stammered, his eyes wide with panic.
"Evidence," Bridget stated coldly, snapping a photo of their naked bodies before fleeing into the freezing New York night.
Desperate to numb the betrayal, she got blackout drunk at an underground lounge and threw herself at a dark, terrifyingly handsome stranger.
She woke up in a penthouse suite alone, finding only a limitless black credit card left on the nightstand.
Humiliated and feeling like a cheap escort, she ran away, swearing to forget the nightmare.
But the nightmare had just begun. When she rushed into the office, she discovered the stranger was Jevon Rocha—the ruthless billionaire CEO of her company.
He didn't fire her. Instead, he trapped her in a twisted, obsessive power game, forcing her into his private life and demanding she report to his penthouse.
Bridget couldn't understand why a ruthless billionaire was so dangerously fixated on a low-level employee.
Until she stumbled upon his secret social media account and saw a crayon drawing of a little kid, captioned with a single word: "Finally."
A wave of absolute horror washed over her. He wasn't just playing games; he was hiding a secret child and a messy, high-stakes family drama.
She refused to be the naive collateral damage in a billionaire's twisted life.
Trembling, Bridget hit "Block" on his profile, determined to escape his dangerous web. Ex-Wife, Please Have Some Self-Respect
Modern I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary." The Soufflé of Sweet Revenge
Modern I spent seven years sacrificing my own culinary dreams for my boyfriend, Collin. For our fifth anniversary, I baked his favorite soufflé and waited for him to come home to the romantic dinner I' d prepared.
He never showed. Instead, a video surfaced online of him at a party with his rival chef, Frankie. He was laughing as he mocked me to a crowd. "Emma's probably at home crying into her pathetic little soufflé," he slurred.
The next morning, he tried to apologize with a "make-up gift." It was a cheap silver necklace, an exact copy of one Frankie always wears.
He' d forgotten I'm allergic to silver.
In seven years, he never even learned that about me. I wasn't his partner; I was just a dress rehearsal for the woman he really wanted.
I packed my bags and flew home to Chicago. When Collin texted, demanding to know what "stupid designer bag" I wanted to make things right, I sent my final reply.
"I'm engaged. And trust me, he's everything you're not." Betrayed By His Cruel Lies
Romance I finally picked out the perfect gift for Jake, a vintage watch, for our third anniversary. I believed he loved me unconditionally, despite his busy schedule and our private relationship.
But that night, at our favorite restaurant, I overheard his voice from the booth next to mine. He called me a "dog" and laughed, telling his friend that he' d never marry me. He was marrying heiress Chloe Peterson; it was "good for business."
The words shattered me. He had bought me love and a career, only to discard me. I was publicly shamed, my career destroyed by his blacklisting and Chloe' s malicious smear campaigns. I went from a rising actress to an unemployable pariah, even my agent believed I was a gold-digger.
I couldn' t understand how the man who once whispered sweet nothings could turn me into a cruel joke overnight. What had I meant to him? Was I truly just a plaything, easily replaced by a better "investment" ?
Just as I felt completely defeated, an anonymous invitation to a high-society gala with a cryptic note: "Your enemies will be there. You should be too. Sometimes the only way out is through," ignited a fierce resolve in me. I would prove them all wrong. The Betrayal at West Point
Modern The suffocating darkness of the barracks was my constant companion, a heavy blanket of dread thick with the smell of sweat and fear.
Every whispered threat, every sneer from Caleb Blakely, my squad leader, was a reminder of the impossible secret I carried.
I wasn't "Matthew Johns," a plebe at West Point; I was Molly, a woman masquerading as my injured brother, desperately clinging to his scholarship to save my family from financial ruin.
Then came the night in the communal showers. A broken water main meant no privacy, nowhere to hide my true identity from fifty other men. Caleb had me cornered, his cruel smile promising public humiliation and the end of my impossible dream.
I pictured the headlines, the disgrace, my family' s hope shattering before my eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a frantic plea for an escape that didn't exist.
Just as panic threatened to overwhelm me, a defiant spark ignited. I couldn't let him win. I couldn't let him break me. My voice, surprisingly steady, cut through the night: "I have a proposal for you, Sir. A bet."
I challenged him to West Point's most brutal endurance course, the "Recondo," wagering my entire future on a desperate gamble.
Either I finished, and he' d keep my secret, or I' d publicly expose myself and surrender everything.
This was my last stand, my only shot to reclaim control and prove that even a scrawny plebe could fight back. The Fifty Million Dollar Secret
Billionaires I just won fifty million dollars, enough to finally shed my quiet librarian life and embrace true freedom.
Bursting with generosity and eager to share the news, I rushed back to my childhood home, the beautiful house my deceased mother had left to me.
But instead of a warm welcome, my stepbrother and his pregnant girlfriend treated me like a parasitic squatter, demanding rent and arrogantly claiming my house was theirs.
Then, my world truly shattered when I overheard my stepmother hiss about "getting rid of the problem" – me – with the same slow-acting "supplements" they'd used on my mother, whose fatal "accident" was, in fact, a calculated murder.
My own father, complicit in my mother's death and now mine, was poisoning me daily.
The naive Chloe died in that musty basement; a cold, calculating survivor emerged, armed with fifty million dollars to expose their deadly conspiracy and ensure justice for my mother and myself. The Discarded Heir: A Self-Made Empire
Billionaires Prologue: Echoes of a Shattered Past, Seeds of a New Beginning
Ethan Miller dedicated his life to his beloved wife, Isabelle, and the Montgomery industrial empire, believing he was building a shared future.
Then, in his sixties, his world crumbled: Isabelle, with cold eyes, confessed their Ivy League son wasn't his, but his rival Liam' s.
Decades of unwavering loyalty and sacrifice were shattered, the betrayal so crushing it literally killed him.
But death was not the end.
He woke up younger, back on the very day his arranged future with Isabelle was about to be sealed.
The cold animosity in her eyes confirmed his worst fear: she remembered their past life too.
Refusing to relive the heartbreak, Ethan chose a different path, pulling out of the Montgomery family entirely.
His choice only fueled Liam' s malicious glee, who orchestrated a public spectacle.
Stripped of every possession, Ethan was forced to cycle away from the mansion on a rusty old bike, his humiliation broadcast to the entire city.
How could such profound devotion lead to such public disgrace, twice?
Was he destined to suffer under Isabelle's shadow forever?
Just as despair threatened to consume him, a sleek black Maybach materialized, offering an unexpected lifeline from a New York titan of industry.
This time, Ethan Miller vowed to reclaim his destiny and build an empire of his own, leaving the specter of his past firmly behind him.
Ethan Miller had dedicated his life to two things: Isabelle Montgomery and Montgomery Industries.
He was the protégé, the one they said was brilliant, the one who would carry the family name forward even though he wasn't born with it.
He married Isabelle, the love of his life, or so he thought.
He poured his soul into the business, transforming it, making it a powerhouse in their Midwest city.
Decades passed, filled with work, with a quiet devotion Isabelle rarely seemed to notice.
Then, in their sixties, the world shattered.
Isabelle stood before him, her eyes cold, a stranger.
She wanted Liam Walker's name added to the Montgomery family foundation's main charter.
Liam, the other protégé, the one who vanished years ago after a scandal, now "posthumously rehabilitated" in her mind.
She wanted Liam's name to replace Ethan's.
Then came the final blow.
"Alex isn't your son, Ethan," she said, her voice flat.
Their Ivy League son, the boy Ethan raised, was Liam's. Conceived before their marriage, a secret kept for a lifetime.
Decades of lies, of a stolen life.
The betrayal was a physical force, crushing his chest.
Ethan Miller clutched his heart and fell.
Darkness.
Then, light.
Confusion.
He was younger. Much younger.
He knew this day.
The day the Montgomerys would formally announce Isabelle' s chosen husband.
The day his first life truly began, and also, the day it was all a lie. The Dice That Tamed A Tyrant
Billionaires My dad and I always dreaded Christmas Eve at Uncle Tony’s mansion, a yearly spectacle of his over-the-top wealth, always making us feel small.
Tony, owner of a modest pizzeria chain, never missed a chance to mock Dad's bus driver past or my "grease-monkey" mechanic job.
This year, however, Tony’s arrogance reached a new low.
He brazenly set up a high-stakes craps game, demanding $500 a throw, openly intending to publically humiliate his working-class family and assert his dominance.
His cutting remarks about our "small wallets" and direct jabs at Dad’s sacrifices hit hard, watching my father shrink.
Even my first few dice rolls, intentionally clumsy, led to quick losses, only intensifying Tony’s cruel mockery and predictions that I'd be "begging for bus fare home."
The decades of quiet disrespect and open disdain for our honest lives boiled into an unbearable fury.
Was family just a stage for his ego?
This wasn't a game; it was an insult to everything we stood for.
But as his taunts echoed, I remembered Sophia’s secret dice control lessons.
Tonight, enough was enough.
I stepped forward, voice steady, ready to use my hidden skill to make Uncle Tony pay—not just for tonight, but for years of casual cruelty. The Senator's Unexpected Bride
Romance My wedding day. Hundreds of guests, media vans outside. The Sterling family chapel, hushed, expectant. I was finally marrying Jackson Sterling, scion of a powerful political dynasty, the man I’d loved since childhood. It was meant to be my perfect happily ever after.
Then he walked in. Not alone. A garish woman clinging to his arm, a wide, triumphant smirk on her face. "The wedding is off," Jackson announced, his voice steady. "I'm with Brandy now. We're leaving."
My world shattered. Jilted at the altar, in front of everyone. The whispers rose, a tidal wave of shock, pity, and cruel amusement. I was Emilia Winston, the society joke. The humiliation was a physical ache. Jackson and his new "wife" continued to taunt, publicly disgracing me and demanding my inheritance, treating me like discarded property.
How could the boy I adored become this arrogant, callous stranger? The endless insults, the blatant disrespect from him and his new flame. They sought to finish what they started, to grind me into dust and claim everything. I was left exposed, vulnerable, and furious.
Just as I thought I was utterly ruined, a figure stepped forward: Senator Alexander Sterling, Jackson’s formidable uncle. He held out a document, his steady gaze meeting mine. "Perhaps you would consider marrying me instead?" A madness. Or a miraculous lifeline. I said yes. And that was just the beginning. You might like
Moon-Born Outcast: The Alpha's Broken Mate
Ghostly Mode Fear follows Alpha Samson wherever he goes. As the ruthless leader of the Blackthorn pack, he and his beast, Savage, bow to no one. But when a haunting scent leads him to a neighboring pack's dungeon, he finds his fated mate-bloody, broken, and chained to the wall.
Alora is a half-wolf, half-witch hybrid falsely accused and left to die. But her abusers made one fatal mistake: they touched the mate of a monster.
Rescued by the fierce Alpha, Alora begins a journey of healing that uncovers a lifetime of lies. She isn't just a survivor; she's a weapon. Together, Samson and Alora will unleash hell on those who wronged her, unearthing dark family secrets and claiming the crown that was stolen from her birth. His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King's Chosen Luna
MAINUMBY I was waiting at the Registry Hall to formalize my mate bond with Gabe, my childhood sweetheart and the Alpha of our pack.
He was thirty-two minutes late.
When I finally found him in a private VIP lounge, his hands were buried in my cousin's hair, their lips locked together.
Hailee was supposed to be my maid of honor.
Instead of apologizing, Gabe looked me dead in the eye and used his Alpha authority to publicly reject me.
The severing of our ten-year bond tore my soul apart, but the nightmare didn't stop there.
My grandfather immediately called, demanding I clean up a mess Hailee had made.
When I refused, he disowned me on the spot, froze every single one of my bank accounts, and stripped me of my family name.
Within hours, my entire pack erased my existence, gleefully announcing Hailee as their new Luna.
I had given my entire life to a family and a man who discarded me like worthless trash the second I became inconvenient.
I was left broken, humiliated, and utterly penniless in the blink of an eye.
But as I stumbled out of that sterile hall, a terrifyingly beautiful stranger stepped out of the shadows, radiating a primal power that made my knees weak.
He was Caden Sinclair, the ruthless Lycan King, and he was dodging a forced political union of his own.
"You need a shield. I need a wife. Marry me."
Without hesitation, I signed the Eternal Vow. The Alpha's Discarded Luna
Velvet Piston I was three months pregnant when the car hit me.
Lying there, barely hanging on, I called my husband-Alpha Ethan-over and over. No answer. When I finally woke up from the pain, I saw a post from his first love, Ivy. "Thank you, Alpha, for knowing how scared I am of the dark and staying with me all night. He even cleared his whole schedule today to take me to the auction, just to give me the best gift in the world. I'm so happy!"
Right then, it hit me. While I was fighting to protect our child, he was with another she-wolf. I calmly liked her post and put my phone away.
Since he chose his first love, I chose to let go.
Seven days from now, I'd leave his world for good-with our child. Alpha's Regret: The Hybrid's Royal Contract
Lila For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises.
Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body.
Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union."
Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family."
Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless.
But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place.
Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms.
When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route.
What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected.
He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years.
And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely. From Wolfless Omega To The Rival Alpha's Queen
Jun Shangye For three years, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into building Blackwood Group for Alec, my Alpha and the man I thought was my mate.
But on the day of our work anniversary, I stood outside his office door and heard him talking with his Beta, shattering my entire world.
"Kay is just a wolfless Omega, useful for paperwork," Alec sneered coldly.
"The bonding ceremony is just a show for the elders. The real Luna, the one who carries the bloodline that matters, is Breanne. I'm transferring all of Kay's core project files to Breanne tomorrow. Let her take the credit."
He even texted me later, telling me to wear a blue dress to the upcoming gala because it made me look "obedient."
I had turned down a Wharton scholarship for this man. I had spent countless nights fixing his mistakes, building his empire, and giving him my youth.
Yet to him, I was nothing but a disposable placeholder, expected to smile and bow while another woman stole my life's work and my place by his side.
The agonizing pain in my chest didn't break me; it forged me into ice.
I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't beg.
Instead, I wiped his servers clean of every strategy I had ever created, left a wax-sealed resignation on his desk, and accepted a job offer from his most ruthless rival. The Alpha King's Defiant Hidden Princess
Xiao Song Shu I died once before, framed for a murder that never happened.
I am Princess Fiona Avery of the Blackwood Pack, forced by my father into a political union with Bowen Mayer, heir to a powerful house. In my first life, my husband's mistress faked a pregnancy, accused me of pushing her into a lake, and watched as I was condemned as a murderer. I spent my final days in a mental ward, broken and drugged, until a lethal injection silenced me forever.
But the dead don't always stay dead.
I opened my eyes on the very day it all went wrong. My tea was still laced with sedative. My husband's footsteps were already pounding down the hall. His weeping mistress was ready to play her part.
This time, I don't beg. I don't cry. I don't kneel.
I summon the ruthless Gamma of the royal Shadow Guard. I demand the pack doctor examine his precious lover-right here, in front of everyone. I stake my life on a wager I know I cannot lose.
They think I'm still the weak, wolfless princess they once destroyed.
They have no idea what I've become. 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. Forsaken By The Pack, Destined For The Lycan King
Escritor apalacio I was born to be Alpha Damien Carlisle's fated Luna.
Instead, I lived like a stray dog in his pack.
For one year, I watched everyone worship Lilith Vance, his fragile first love, while they mocked me as the barren mate he was too ashamed to mark.
Then I learned the truth.
His mother had been forcing brutal fertility herbs into my body.
His sister threw an illegal sterility poison at me.
And Damien, my own mate, had been secretly lacing my food with wolfsbane contraceptives for months.
When I confronted him, he did not deny it.
"I couldn't let you get pregnant," he said coldly. "If Lilith found out you were carrying my heir, the shock might kill her."
I finally understood.
I was never his Luna.
I was his bloodline. His legal womb. His family's insurance policy.
The moment Lilith coughed up blood, Damien abandoned me without looking back.
So I ran to the capital and begged the Alpha King to grant me a formal Rejection.
He threw my petition away unread.
My mate had poisoned me.
My pack had betrayed me.
And the King himself refused to free me.
Fine.
If the law would not save me, I would save myself.
In my past life, I had been a healer no one believed until it was too late. This time, I remembered everything.
In seven days, at the Royal Hunt, the Alpha King would drink a silver poison designed to kill even a Lycan.
No royal healer would be able to save him.
But I would.
I packed my surgical kit, disappeared into the city slums, and prepared the only cure in the kingdom.
When the King lay dying, he would finally listen.
And the price of his life would be simple.
My freedom. 
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