Beneath the Blood Moon's glow, a deadly masquerade begins. Lyra has three days to save her sister from the claws of the Ironclaw Pack-or watch her die in the ritual that feeds their cursed king. With scissors trembling in her hand, she cuts her hair, binds her chest, and becomes Lyr: a mute blacksmith's apprentice, shadows masking her scent, lies sharpening her tongue. The plan is simple. Infiltrate King Kael's fortress. Sabotage the altar. Escape. But the tyrant king is no fool. Kael's amber eyes pierce through every shadow, his growl a rumble of storms as he drags "Lyr" into his war room. He demands answers she can't speak, her silence a thorn in his pride. Yet when Lyra mends a blade that hums with forgotten magic, Kael's gaze lingers-too long, too hungry. "You're hiding something," he murmurs, claws grazing her calloused palm. Her pulse betrays her. The fortress is a labyrinth of teeth and treachery. Every step risks exposure: a healing potion splashing her bandages, a rogue wolf catching her true scent, Kael's voice softening in the dark as he confesses secrets no king should utter. "The ritual is a chain," he says, winebitter and weary. "One I cannot break." Lyra's resolve wavers. What if the monster she's vowed to destroy is as trapped as the slaves he rules? On the eve of the Blood Moon, Lyra shatters the altar's chains-only to find her sister's cell empty. Kael stands in the crimsonstained archway, her lies laid bare. "You," he snarls, fangs glinting, "will burn for this." But as flames rise, Lyra whispers a truth that cracks the night itself: "Your curse is a lie. And I know who forged it." The ritual begins. The moon bleeds. And somewhere in the chaos, a king's howl shakes the earth-not in rage, but agony. What price will he pay to believe her?
The dirty window of the small hut that Lyra and her sister shared let in just a little of the morning sun. For twelve hours, Lyra dug for the valuable metals the Wolf King wanted. Her back hurt and her hands were dirty from the mines. But something wasn't right. It was too quiet in the hut. "Mara?" When Lyra called, she moved the rough curtain that divided their sleeping areas. Not full. She felt like lightning struck her chest. She always said goodbye to her sister before she left. Lyra ran outside, the cold morning air biting her cheeks.
Neighbors rushed past with their heads down, avoiding her eyes. "Where's my sister?" Lyra grabbed old man Thatch by his sleeve. The old miner pulled away, fear written on his wrinkled face. "The guards came at dawn," he whispered. "In three days, the Blood Moon will appear. The Wolf King... he picked her." Lyra's legs turned to water. She stumbled back against the hut's wall. "No," she mumbled. "Not Mara." Everyone knew what "chosen" meant. Every full moon, King Kael took a human to his obsidian castle. The person never returned. People said the Wolf King needed blood to keep his powers. Without the sacrifice, his pack would lose control and slaughter every person in Vargen. Lyra slid down to the dirt, holding her knees. Mara was all she had left. Their parents died in the mines years ago. They'd promised to protect each other always. "I failed her," Lyra whispered. A scrap of paper fluttered near the doorway-Mara's handwriting. Lyra snatched it up. Don't follow me. Stay safe. I love you. -M Clutching the note, Lyra felt something harden inside her chest. Fear turned to fury. "No," she said, louder this time. "I won't let him take you." Inside the hut, Lyra dumped out her small box of treasures-items stolen from the mines over years. A pair of rusty knives. Black cloth scraps. A stolen knife with a chipped blade. A map of the fortress a dying guard once swapped for water. Her eyes fell on Mara's part of the hut. Her sister's herbal medicines sat in neat rows-potions that could mask smells, heal wounds, or bring peaceful sleep. Mara had always been the smart one. Lyra's hand trembled as she lifted the scissors. She grabbed a handful of her long brown hair and cut. Snip. Snip. Locks of hair fell around her feet like fall leaves. She bound her chest tight with strips of cloth until it hurt to breathe. Next came the dirt-rubbed into her skin, hiding her feminine features. Coal dust blackened her eyebrows. A deep breath, and she practiced lowering her voice. "I'm Lyr," she growled, then tried again. "I'm Lyr." Better. The mirror-a small piece of shiny metal-showed a stranger's face. A boy's face. Not pretty Lyra with the storm-gray eyes, but Lyr, a rough mine worker with a hard mouth and harder eyes. Perfect. Lyra-no, Lyr now-packed Mara's potions, the map, and the knife into a small bag. One last look around the hut that had been home. She might never see it again. Outside, the village bell sounded-the call for new workers. The Wolf King's castle always needed strong backs. Guards would march chosen workers up the mountain at noon. That was her way in. Lyr slipped into the crowd gathering in the town square. Keeping her head down, she slouched like the boys did, taking up room. No one looked twice at her. They were too busy avoiding the wolf guards' cruel eyes. "You." A guard with a scar across his nose pointed at her. "Strong enough for forge work?" Lyr nodded, not trusting her words. "Get in line." Twenty people stood in rows. Some cried quietly. Others stared empty-eyed at the dirt. They all knew some would never return from the fortress. The weak died quickly under the wolves' watch. As the guards checked each person, Lyr's heart hammered so loudly she was sure they could hear it. Wolves had amazing senses-they could smell fear, they could smell lies, they could smell... She clutched the small bottle of shadow-scent in her pocket. Mara's strongest potion, saved for situations. It masked human scent totally. Lyr had swallowed three drops before leaving the hut. If the wolves smelled her real identity, she'd be dead before sunset. The scarred guard reached her, sniffing the air near her neck. Lyr held her breath. "Name?" he growled. "Lyr," she mumbled in her deepest voice. "Blacksmith's son from the east mines." The guard stared at her face. His yellow eyes narrowed. "You smell... strange," he said. Lyr's stomach dropped. "Got burned in a fire," she lied quickly. "The healers used herbs." For a terrible moment, the guard leaned closer, his hot breath on her face. Then he shrugged and moved on. Lyr almost fell with relief. The potion worked. The march to the fortress started at noon, just as she'd planned. Twelve miles uphill, through woods where normal wolves wouldn't dare hunt. The king's pack ruled here. As they walked, Lyr listened to the other workers talk about the fortress. About King Kael. "He's seven feet tall..." "...claws like daggers..." "...eats hearts raw during the Blood Moon..." "They say he can smell your deepest secret just by looking at you." Lyr clutched her bag tighter. The plan was simple: Find Mara. Free her. Run. The castle would be busy preparing for the Blood Moon ritual. Guards would be distracted. The trees thinned as they climbed higher. Then, around a bend in the road, the fortress appeared. Lyr stopped dead. No story had caught its horror. Black towers stabbed the sky like claws. Walls of obsidian gleamed in the afternoon sun. Massive iron gates stood open like a mouth ready to swallow them. And everywhere-guards. Wolf guards with bright eyes and hands that sometimes showed claws. They walked like men but watched like animals. "Keep moving," a guard shoved her forward. Inside the gates, workers were split into groups. Lyr found herself pushed toward a burning building-the forge. Perfect. The blacksmith's tools might help with Mara's bonds. "New blood for you, Krev," the guard called to a huge man hammering metal. The blacksmith barely looked up. "Put him on the bellows. Boy looks strong enough." Lyr took her place pumping the bellows, making the forge fires roar. Her arms burned with the effort, but she didn't whine. From here, she could see most of the main plaza. A horn blew three long notes. Everyone stopped working. Guards stood taller. "King's coming," Krev whispered. "Keep your eyes down if you want to keep them." The crowd separated like water. A tall figure walked across the courtyard. King Kael. Lyr couldn't help looking up. Her breath caught. He wasn't seven feet tall, but he towered over his guards. Broad shoulders pushed against a black leather tunic. His face was all sharp angles-high cheekbones, strong chin with a jagged scar running down it. His eyes glowed orange in the sunlight. Those eyes swept the courtyard, cold and calculating. For a heart-stopping moment, they landed on Lyr. Something passed across his face-curiosity? Suspicion? Then he looked away, continuing toward the main keep. "The chosen sacrifice arrived this morning," a guard near Lyr whispered to another. "Pretty one this time. Hair like fire." Mara. Lyr's grip tightened on the bellows. Her sister was somewhere in that huge keep. Three days until the Blood Moon. Three days to save her. As darkness fell, workers were moved to sleeping quarters-straw mats in cold stone rooms. Lyr waited until the others slept, then pulled out Mara's plan. The prison was deep beneath the main keep. Getting there meant crossing the courtyard-patrolled by guards who never slept. Lyr was studying the map when the door creaked open. She shoved it under her blanket just as a guard poked his head in. "You," he pointed at Lyr. "King wants all new smiths in the royal forge. Now." Lyr's blood turned cold. Why would the king want to see new workers? She followed the guard across the moonlit courtyard, toward a smaller building near the keep. Inside, the heat hit her like a wall. This forge was different-cleaner, hotter, filled with strange tools and metals that glowed blue instead of red. And standing beside the main anvil, arms crossed over his chest, was King Kael. His amber eyes locked onto hers. "So," the Wolf King said, his voice a deep rumble like distant thunder, "you're the one who smells of secrets."
A stolen ring. A sister's lie. A prison cell. Alessia thought her fairy tale was real-until her sister, Isabella, framed her for a crime she didn't commit. With her fiancé gone and her family's name ruined, Alessia spends three cold years in prison, clinging to one vow: I will survive. But freedom is a trap. Her family sells her to Dante "Viper" Moretti, a ruthless mafia boss with ice-blue eyes and a reputation for breaking bones. Yet instead of chains, he gives her silk dresses. Instead of threats, he whispers promises. "You're mine now," he growls, shielding her from the world that betrayed her. Alessia doesn't trust his kindness. But when Isabella returns, hungry to destroy her again, Alessia must choose: hide in Viper's shadow... or let him ignite the fire of her revenge.
Rena got into an entanglement with a big shot when she was drunk one night. She needed Waylen's help while he was drawn to her youthful beauty. As such, what was supposed to be a one-night stand progressed into something serious. All was well until Rena discovered that Waylen's heart belonged to another woman. When his first love returned, he stopped coming home, leaving Rena all alone for many nights. She put up with it until she received a check and farewell note one day. Contrary to how Waylen expected her to react, Rena had a smile on her face as she bid him farewell. "It was fun while it lasted, Waylen. May our paths never cross. Have a nice life." But as fate would have it, their paths crossed again. This time, Rena had another man by her side. Waylen's eyes burned with jealousy. He spat, "How the hell did you move on? I thought you loved only me!" "Keyword, loved!" Rena flipped her hair back and retorted, "There are plenty of fish in the sea, Waylen. Besides, you were the one who asked for a breakup. Now, if you want to date me, you have to wait in line." The next day, Rena received a credit alert of billions and a diamond ring. Waylen appeared again, got down on one knee, and uttered, "May I cut in line, Rena? I still want you."
Joelle thought she could change Adrian's heart after three years of marriage, but she realized too late that it already belonged to another woman. "Give me a baby, and I'll set you free." The day Joelle went into labor, Adrian was traveling with his mistress on his private jet. "I don't care whom you love. My debt is paid. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other." Not long after Joelle left, Adrian found himself begging on his knees. "Please come back to me."
After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary—but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.
"Ahh!" She was in a moaning mess. She did not want to feel anything for this man. She hated him. His hands began to move all over her body. She gasped when he pulled down the back chain of her dress. The chain stopped at her lower waist, so when he zipped it off, her upper back and waist were exposed. "D-Don't touch m-ummm!" His fingers rolled around her bare back, and she pressed her head against the pillow. His touches were giving her goosebumps all over her body. With a deep angry voice, he whispered in her ear, "I am going to make you forget his touches, kisses, and everything. Every time you touch another man, you will only think of me." - - - Ava Adler was a nerdy omega. People bullied her because they thought she was ugly and unattractive. But Ava secretly loved the bad boy, Ian Dawson. He was the future Alpha of the Mystic Shadow Pack. However, he doesn't give a damn about rules and laws, as he only likes to play around with girls. Ava was unaware of Ian's arrogance until her fate intertwined with his. He neglected her and hurt her deeply. What would happen when Ava turned out to be a beautiful girl who could win over any boy, and Ian looked back and regretted his decisions? What if she had a secret identity that she had yet to discover? What if the tables turned and Ian begged her not to leave him?
Kaelyn devoted three years tending to her husband after a terrible accident. But once he was fully recovered, he cast her aside and brought his first love back from abroad. Devastated, Kaelyn decided on a divorce as people mocked her for being discarded. She went on to reinvent herself, becoming a highly sought-after doctor, a champion racer, and an internationally renowned architectural designer. Even then, the traitors sneered in disdain, believing Kaelyn would never find someone. But then the ex-husband’s uncle, a powerful warlord, returned with his army to ask for Kaelyn’s hand in marriage.
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"