/1/122191/coverbig.jpg?v=e5329d6dd4a5c639c96cc07f6cf0815a)
I transmigrated into the body of a wolfless girl the exact moment she was publicly rejected by her fated mate. Alpha Kane humiliated me in front of the entire pack, declaring his beautiful mistress, Flor, as his new Luna, while the original soul died from the agony of the severed bond. I was dragged away like a sack of meat, thrown into a freezing cabin, and ordered to starve to death. Flor came to my prison in her expensive silk dress just to gloat. "Trash belongs in the trash can," she sneered. Her guard brutally beat my only loyal maid, leaving her bleeding in the dirt while they laughed at my pathetic, sickly state. In their eyes, I was just a weak, useless disgrace who should have died of a broken heart. They thought their fated bonds and Alpha strength made them invincible gods in this world. But they didn't know the crying girl was gone, replaced by a top-tier biochemist bound to a pocket-dimension laboratory. I calmly infected Flor's dress with custom-engineered fungal spores, sending her into a screaming fit of agonizing hives and hallucinations. When the enraged Alpha shattered my door to tear my throat out for the antidote, I didn't beg. I simply shot a paralytic dart into his neck, and watched the mighty, indomitable beast collapse helplessly at my feet.
Contents
His Forsaken Mate: The Vengeance Of The Wolfless Chapter 1
Aubrey POV:
The rejection didn't just break my heart. It killed me.
"I, Kane Spence, Alpha of the Black Moon pack," he began, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floor, through my very skeleton.
Every wolf in the hall held their breath.
"Reject you, Aubrey House, as my mate and future Luna."
The words tore through my chest like a rusted hook. Pain. Not the poetic ache of a broken heart. The raw, searing agony of something being ripped out by the roots. My soul, severed. Half of it already thrown away.
I died on that floor.
The girl who had loved Kane Spence, who had spent years shrinking herself into something palatable, something acceptable-she died there.
Kane didn't grant me a final glance. He turned, his back a rigid wall of dismissal, and raised Flor's hand high. The hall erupted. Cheers. For her. The replacement. The sound was deafening, a joyous roar that swallowed my fading consciousness whole.
Their laughter was the last thing she heard.
Then, silence.
A void.
And then-
Fuck.
The thought ripped through the void like a detonation. Not a word-a reflex. The same reflex I'd had the moment my lab's containment field failed. Did the lab explode?
My body answered before my mind could. Cold stone beneath my cheek. The scent of pine and damp earth flooding my lungs. The distant echo of cheers. I wasn't in my lab. I wasn't in my body.
Then, the second wave hit. Not just pain-memories. A tidal wave of them. Not mine. A life of shame. A girl born wolfless, a disgrace to her family, a pawn in a political alliance. A girl who had harbored a desperate, hopeless love for the Alpha who had just shattered her.
My mind-the mind of a biochemist-kicked into overdrive. Compartmentalizing. Analyzing.
Diagnosis: Transmigration. Host body experiencing acute neurological trauma from a severed bio-resonant psychic link. Physical condition: severe malnutrition, systemic stress. Environment: hostile.
The original Aubrey House was dead. I was the stranger wearing her corpse.
The hall still reeked of pine and damp earth, a cloying thickness coating the back of my throat. I was on the floor. Cold stone. Thin dress. The witnesses were still whispering, still laughing. Flor Carr still had her hand pressed to her lips in that perfect mask of false sympathy.
Nothing had changed for them.
Everything had changed for me.
Two hulking guards stepped forward. Their hands clamped onto my upper arms, rough and unforgiving. They didn't help me up. They dragged me. My body was dead weight to them, the side of my face scraping against cold, gritty stone. The sting was a fresh layer of pain over the deeper agony.
I counted turns. Three left. Two right. Stairs down. The compound was mapping itself in my head, even now.
As they hauled me past the throne, Flor stepped into my path. She paused. Bent low, close enough that her perfume flooded my lungs-jasmine, cloying-sweet, victory-scented.
"Trash," she breathed, "belongs in the trash can."
Just for me. A silk-wrapped knife.
I lifted my head. Vision clearing. Focus narrowing.
I looked at her-through* her-and felt nothing. No rage. No despair. She wasn't a rival. Wasn't even a person, not in the way that mattered. Just a variable. A specimen. One more unstable element in a dangerously unfamiliar equation
My gaze must have been empty. Truly empty. Because she flinched.
A half-step back. Involuntary.
Good. File that away for later.
The guards dragged me out of the great hall, through a warren of dark corridors-twist after twist, cold stone bleeding into colder stone. At the edge of the pack lands, they kicked open a splintered wooden door and threw me inside.
I landed hard on packed earth. The door slammed shut. The bolt scraped home.
Prisoner.
But I didn't cry.
The girl who would have was already gone. Whatever had opened its eyes in her body-whatever I was now-had other priorities.
I pressed my back against the damp wall, closed my eyes, and took stock. Multiple soft tissue contusions. Chronic nutritional deficiencies. And the persistent, high-level neurological pain from the severed mate bond-a phantom limb, except the limb was my soul, and it was on fire.
I held up a hand, turning it over in a sliver of light from a crack in the wall. Not my hand. Mine were capable, clean, accustomed to the precise movements of a laboratory. This hand was thin, delicate, the knuckles bruised, the skin crosshatched with tiny, silvery scars.
"Transmigration," I murmured, the word tasting strange on this new tongue. "Into a werewolf pack. Rejected by the Alpha."
The logic was insane. The data was irrefutable.
My eyes scanned the tiny, dark space. A hard plank bed. A bucket in the corner. A single window, boarded over, allowing only faint stripes of light to pierce the gloom. For the original Aubrey, this was a death sentence. An absolute dead end.
But for a scientist who had run solo survival trials in the Amazon and collected extremophile samples in the Siberian permafrost-
"Alright." The word came out a dry rasp, barely a whisper. "New project. Phase one: survival. Phase two: data collection."
A pause.
"Phase three..."
I let the silence finish that sentence.
View More Comments on App
Other books by MAINUMBY
More/1/118699/coverbig.jpg?v=e35095dbd944f6e8186414455ef44681)
His Defiant Mate: The Lycan King's Chosen Luna
WerewolfI 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.
/1/102845/coverbig.jpg?v=0fe964aa6e06917cbe6b79d992e4577a)
Pregnant And Rejected: The Alpha's Cruel Choice
WerewolfI gave up a prestigious scholarship to Zurich to become the architect of the Obsidian Pack, believing Alpha Emilio was my Fated Mate. I spent four years building his walls, his training grounds, and his legacy, waiting for the Mark that never came. On the night I planned to tell him I was pregnant with his heir, he stood on the dais and publicly gave my custom-designed Luna bracelet to his mistress's son. Desperate and heartbroken, I stepped forward to reveal the truth about our baby. Emilio didn't offer comfort. Instead, he used the Alpha Command. "Sit down, Elana." The force of his voice was a physical blow. It threw me off the stage and slammed me onto the stone floor. The impact didn't just break my body; it severed the life of our unborn pup. As I lay bleeding out, Emilio didn't look at me with regret. He shielded his mistress, Hayden, from the sight of my pain. "Get her out of here," he told the guards coldly. "If she dies as a Rogue in the woods, it’s just nature." He thought he was discarding a broken tool. He thought I would die in the river. He didn't know that I would wash up on the shores of the Silver Alps. He didn't know that their Alpha, the most powerful wolf in Europe, had been admiring my designs—and me—from afar for years. Three months later, I returned to the Obsidian Pack. I didn't come back to build his walls. I came back to tear them down.
/1/117368/coverbig.jpg?v=5750a4e2f3a7b4a69aabb061c18369f2)
Beyond Death: The Ruthless Don's Eternal Obsession
MafiaThey say the Don of Chicago has ice in his veins and blood on his hands. They say he's forgotten the girl who died in a freezing apartment on New Year's Eve, clutching a velvet box he threw in the trash. They're wrong. The Don never forgot. He just didn't know I was watching. Because I'm still here—a ghost tethered to the man who destroyed my life and then, inexplicably, destroyed himself over my memory. This is the story of how the boy who promised me forever became the monster who broke me. And how, after everything, he followed my soul to the very edge of death just to ask me one question. My name is Elena Rossi. And this is how I learned that in the Mafia, love is the most dangerous weapon of all.
/1/116632/coverbig.jpg?v=3c131c0c81f48b8cd1b6e2cbe205352f)
The Jilted Wife Builds Her Own Empire
MafiaJulieta thought a quiet night might finally bring some warmth to her cold marriage with Denver Kensington. But his mistress, Aisha, shattered that illusion by staging a fake fall down the grand staircase and framing Julieta for the miscarriage. Denver didn't listen to a single word of Julieta's defense. Instead, Aisha trapped Julieta on the terrace, shoved her over the stone railing, and screamed to the staff that Julieta was committing suicide. Severely injured from the fall and secretly pregnant herself, Julieta woke up in a private clinic only to face Denver's absolute disgust. He refused to believe the child was his. "You will terminate this pregnancy immediately." Denver left her locked inside with a rogue doctor, who quickly pinned Julieta to the floor with a lethal syringe aimed at her neck. As she fought desperately for her baby's life on the cold tiles, Julieta's heart completely shattered. How could the man she loved be so maliciously blind, willingly allowing his mistress to slaughter his legitimate wife and unborn heir? Just as the deadly needle descended, the clinic door was violently kicked off its hinges by the powerful Kensington Patriarch. Saved and granted absolute authority over the main estate, Julieta watched Denver storm away, silently vowing to build her own empire and make them pay.
/1/114903/coverbig.jpg?v=9d7fb440088d28db1482756f07a6e5a5)
The Jilted Heiress And Her Lethal Comeback
RomanceClara was the despised fake heiress of the wealthy Price family. For years, she endured their coldness, desperately trying to please her adoptive mother and her fiancé, Preston. But a sudden, terrifying vision of an alternate timeline shattered her reality. In that life, the real heiress, Bria, framed Clara for stealing a priceless antique pearl earring. Her adoptive family chose blood over loyalty, watching coldly as Preston publicly dumped her. Clara was thrown out without a penny, hunted down by hitmen Bria hired, and died a miserable, lonely death. Now, as the agonizing memories faded, Clara found herself back in the exact moment the nightmare began. Bria was whimpering in Preston's arms, while the family matriarch slammed her cane against the floor. "You will call Preston," Eleanor ordered, her voice cold and absolute. "You will cancel the engagement yourself." They expected her to panic and beg. They expected her to cry over the family that never loved her and the man whose bankrupt tech company she had secretly saved with her own code. Why should she suffer for their greed? Why should she let a venomous sister and a useless fiancé destroy her life when she possessed the lethal combat skills of a brutal alternate reality? This time, Clara didn't shed a single tear. She yanked off the five-carat diamond ring, threw it onto the table, and publicly broadcasted the secret audio of Bria's vicious setup. Then, she packed a single bag and walked out the door, ready to crush anyone who stood in her way.
/1/113653/coverbig.jpg?v=b3996885feeae775f69aa669997df7f5)
The Presumed Dead Ex-Wife's Spectacular Comeback
RomanceOn the night of her seventh wedding anniversary, Annabelle waited by a cold dinner, only for her husband Julian to kick the doors open, carrying his bleeding sister-in-law, Jocelyne. Jocelyne had committed a horrific drunk driving hit-and-run, and Julian demanded Annabelle sign a plea deal and go to prison to protect the family's stock prices. What truly broke Annabelle wasn't Julian's ruthless betrayal, but her own twin sons. Her own flesh and blood stood fiercely in front of Jocelyne to protect her. "Nobody even likes you anyway, Mother. If you go to jail, everything stays normal." Julian stripped her of every cent, locked her in a remote estate, and chased her to the edge of a cliff with his bodyguards when she refused to be their scapegoat. Looking at the man she had loved for seven years and the children she had devoted her life to, her heart turned to ice. Why was her endless sacrifice rewarded with being a disposable shield for a manipulative liar? Standing on the jagged cliffs, she played the dashcam audio proving Jocelyne's guilt to a suddenly horrified Julian. "You don't deserve the truth." Then, she stepped backward off the cliff into the raging black ocean. Two years later, she returned to the city as an untouchable, powerful elite, walking right past a broken, miserable Julian without a second glance.
