Mated to The Moon Witch

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming Kickass Heroine Comeback Revenge

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Standing atop the six-story building was Ronin, a six-foot-tall fugitive wanted for the death of the president. He faced off against Kade, the vampire prince who was determined to capture him by any means necessary.

Ronin knew he had many enemies, including Kade, who was no match for him in a fair fight. However, the law wanted Ronin dead or alive, so he sensed danger when he realized Kade was carrying wolfsbane. Ronin was a werewolf, while Kade was a vampire, and the two hated each other.

“Im going to capture you, whether dead or alive,” Kade snarled, showing his fangs. Ronin bared his fur, hair, and eyes, ready to charge at Kade.

“What will you do then? he growled. Kade smirked.

“Oh, you don't know? I'm going to kill you, he said, attempting to stab Ronin. Ronin dodged the attack with his werewolf speed and scratched Kade with his claws, causing him to scream in pain.

Kade punched Ronin with his vampire strength, but Ronin retaliated by slashing at Kade with his paws. Kade tried to compel Ronin, but he resisted.

In the end, Kade shot Ronin with a silver bullet, causing him to fall from the building.

***

Freya winced in pain as an invisible rope tightened around her neck, making it difficult to breathe. Reagan, who took pleasure in bullying Freya, had cast a spell on her.

Sloan tried to stop Reagan, warning her that Freya would die if she didn't stop. Freya struggled to speak as the rope choked her, and her legs dangled in the air.

Reagan laughed at her weakness, but Sloan intervened and loosened the rope with a spell, causing Freya to thud onto the ground.

She lay there, breathing hard and crying, feeling like a mockery in the witchcraft community.

As she walked home, she couldn't help but curse her powerlessness. Despite not being in the mood for a taxi, she made the trek. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and she felt an inexplicable force pulling her toward the source of the sound. Upon arriving, she saw a wounded werewolf lying on the ground, groaning in pain and fighting for his life.

She recognized him as the wanted criminal accused of killing the president. Her heart raced as she cast a spell to help her lift him. Though she didn't understand why she was aiding a fugitive, one thing was clear: she felt a strong connection to this werewolf named Ronin.

***

Upon opening his eyes, Ronin realized that someone had carried him from where he was shot the previous night. However, he wasn't in handcuffs or prison. Instead, he found himself in a small, intricately decorated bedroom that he recognized as belonging to a woman. As if on cue, a young woman in her early twenties entered the room, carrying a bowl of water.

“You're awake, she said, sitting down beside him and attempting to place a damp towel on his forehead. Ronin instinctively grabbed her hand, but their eyes met and he realized she posed no threat.

“It is okay, I won't hurt you, she spoke softly, causing Ronin to scoff. Despite his skepticism, he couldn't sense any danger emanating from her. As he checked the spot where he had been shot, he realized that he was already healing.

Ronin held her hand and looked into her eyes, asking,

“Who are you?

“I'm Freya, she winced in pain as Reagan's spells had cursed her neck from hurting her.

Ronin noticed the redness on her neck but didn't pry into her business. He felt a sense of calmness around her and wondered why this fragile girl had helped him, a fugitive.

“Why did you help me when you know Im a fugitive? Ronin asked, still staring at her

Freya struggled to speak and swallow before finally replying,

“Is that the thank you I get for saving your ass? A little gratitude won't hurt. Ronin smiled and sat down beside her, muttering a small “thanks.

Freya couldn't help but notice how handsome Ronin was. His sharp and masculine features were cute, but his ocean-blue eyes were mesmerizing.

“You haven't told me who you are, Ronin said.

“I already told you my name, you moron, Freya cursed, immediately regretting her words.

Ronin clarified, “No, I meant where are we? A vampire kingdom? A siren?

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