Tragic

In my tenth year of being the Luna of the Nocturne pack, the first love of my mate, Alpha Stellan Caldwell, returns to the pack. With a bouquet of dead wolfsbane in her hands, Nigella Starveil barges into the anniversary of the mate-bonding ceremony between Stellan and me. "Stellan, I still remember you telling me that you're willing to endure all types of poison in the world just for my sake. Does that promise still count?" Before Nigella finishes her sentence, Stellan, my powerful yet distant Alpha, feels his expression change instantly. He doesn't even bother sparing me a glance. All he sees is the bouquet of dead flowers that are equally deadly to Nigella. Stellan rushes up to Nigella and swipes the bouquet out of her hands roughly, not caring about the fact that everyone is staring at him right now. Silence befalls the hall instantly. From my position behind Stellan, I know right away that I've been reduced to the biggest laughingstock in the Northern Territories. The fact that Stellan doesn't hesitate to protect Nigella becomes the biggest insult that humiliates me to no end. It turns out that ten years of companionship and shared struggles are nothing compared to the bouquet of dead wolfsbane in Nigella's hands. After that, Nigella shoots me a smug and contemptuous look while rubbing her reddened wrist. "Do you see now? This is proof that he loves me. You've already tried to do your part as the breeding machine, so you can now retire from your position." In the past, Stellan had barged into the forbidden lands in search of Nigella. He almost got shredded into a thousand pieces there. But now, he's still willing to humiliate me in public just for her sake.

My stepbrother hated me. He hated me and my mom for coming into his life, for ruining what he believed was his perfect family. Whenever he saw me, his face would turn cold, and he would tell me how disgusting I was, asking cruelly when I was going to die. In the end, I gave him what he wanted. But then he regretted it. He cried, begging me to come back, saying he never should have broken up with me and never should have treated me so cruelly. But I was already dead. Who was he putting on this show of affection for now?

When I drink the amber-colored poisonous wine, I can hear the joyful melody of a toast song coming from the manor. The wedding between Emanuela Romano and my ex-fiance, Benedetto Martini, is being held there right now. The elderly butler, Vincenzo Romano, puts away the wine glass with a blank expression. The way he speaks is as somber as one sounds when they give a speech at a funeral. "You know the Don's will very well, Ms. Andreotti. Five years are officially up, yet neither Mr. Andreotti, Mr. Martini, nor Dr. Foscari is willing to pledge their loyalty to you via the blood vow. According to the rules, you must take your own life within seven days. "The Don had left the Ashwine to you as a means of protecting… what little pride you have." Scorching pain begins spreading from my throat. I just smile at Vincenzo in return. Pride? Does a bastard spawn of a loose Iernian woman deserve to retain pride of any sort in the cruel Andreotti family? I begin making my way toward the banquet hall, which is brightly lit. As I walk past the shimmering waters of the pond in the family garden, I can tell that the waters are insanely cold. Then again, nothing is as cold as my icy heart right now. After taking a deep breath, I fall face-first into the pond… only to feel an iron-clad grip wrenching me backward. As such, I collapse onto the lawn heavily. My older brother, Alessandro Andreotti, has bits of grass covering his expensive suit. Disgust is written all over his handsome face. "Eva!" he grits out through his teeth, his voice lowered. "Must you spoil the mood on Emanuela's big day?" He then scoots closer to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over my face. "You want to die, huh? Go ahead and do that, but can you die somewhere further? Don't stain the Andreotti land!" Alessandro turns to walk in the direction of the radiant lights, leaving me on the lawn, completely covered in mud. I can feel the countdown of my lifespan burning my insides. Seven days… I only have seven days to live. Meanwhile, my very own brother wants me to die somewhere further away.

Claire Aniston had been in love with Calvin Bennett for a decade. In all that time, he had blown hot and cold, but she never minded. She was certain that someday, he would see how much she truly cared. That faith shattered on the night of their engagement party. Claire found him wrapped up with Iris Aniston. "Once I marry Claire and get control of the shares, I'll divorce her and marry you," she heard him tell Iris. So that was the truth. He wasn't just guarded—he didn't love her at all. Worse, he had been using her from the start. With cold resolve, Claire went straight to the head of the Bennett family. "Grandpa George, I've made up my mind. Calvin doesn't love me, and I won't force him into this. I'm not going to marry him." The old man was shocked. "But…you've loved him all these years. Did he do something wrong? Don't worry, you will always be the one I want for my grandson." "Grandpa George, the wedding date doesn't need to change. I will still marry into the Bennett family—but I'm choosing a different groom. "On the day of the wedding, seven days from now, I will draw lots among all the eligible male heirs of the Bennett family. Whoever is chosen will become my husband." After all, things couldn't possibly get any worse.

The day I went into labor with the twins, I bribed the family doctor to shoot me up with every heavy-duty suppressant he could get his hands on. Anything to stall the birth. Why? Because in my last life, Vincent—my husband, the Don—claimed to have a low sperm count. To guarantee an heir, he lined up ten mistresses and told the whole house: whoever popped out a son first, her kid would be the next Corleone Don. He promised if I delivered first, he'd ditch the others. Said our baby would inherit the throne. I bought every word. When I found out I was carrying twins, I couldn't stop shaking—I thought I'd won. But after I gave birth, he tossed me and the babies into the freezing wine cellar and locked the place down. "Lucy came from nothing. I just wanted to give her kid a name. You started rumors, pushed her into despair, and now she's dead—her and the baby. You're vile. Not fit to be the Don's wife. Think about what you've done. I'll open the door in three days." Then he had the butler seal it shut. What he didn't know? That night, the cellar caught fire. Me and my babies? Burned alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—right before labor. This time, I'm not staying. Soon as I deliver and get back on my feet, I'm taking my kids and disappearing for good.

I begged Dylan Leveson three hundred and four times to take my dying dad on one last trip out to sea. Guess what? He bailed. I stood on the shore, watching the warmth fade from my dad's body, breath by breath—alone—while Dylan played Romeo in the highlands. Millie Stone—his forever flame—posted a cozy little selfie: [Far from the world, as long as I have you.] I accidentally hit like. Dylan popped up instantly. [How many times have I told you to leave Millie alone? Can't control yourself? We're getting a divorce!] Oh, the classic divorce threat. I'd lost count. [Cool. Divorce it is.]

I died not knowing Rowan had fallen for another. So, I made a deal with the witch, exchanging my wolf heart for seven days of life. Seven years ago, during a territorial conflict between wolf tribes, I lost my sight while saving Rowan. My deal with the witch not only gave me seven days but also restored my vision. Overjoyed, I rushed to Rowan’s home under the moonlight. I was eager to share my miracle with him, even if I had only seven days left.  However, he was in the arms of another woman. Rowan’s cruel words echoed in my mind: "You know how to please me so much better than that blind princess ever did." "I’ve had enough of her lifeless eyes. Every time I look at her, I feel like I’m shackled by chains of duty and morality. I can’t breathe around her!" His harsh words and the sounds of their intimacy crushed the last of my hope. I was going to die soon, and with the short life I had traded the wolf heart of a Moonshadow Wolf Tribe Princess for, I had only lived long enough to witness Rowan’s betrayal.

For the ninth time, my wife chose to have an abortion for the sake of her ailing first love. This time, I did not stop her. Even when my grandfather flew into a fit of rage, his heart faltering as he called me a disgrace to the family, I stayed silent. The truth was that I had already decided to divorce her. In three days, I'd be leaving for Westmarch to begin my research. Until then, I have decided to grant her every wish. If she wanted me to hand over a promotion so her first love could take the credit, I gave it up without hesitation. If she wanted to bring him home to rest, I vacated the master bedroom on the spot. She beamed with satisfaction, praising me for finally learning to be "sensible." She promised that once he recovered, she would give me a child of my own. However, what she did not know was that there would be no next time.

My mate is the bravest patrol chief of the Sundara Pack. When the rogue straps a bomb laced with wolfsbane to me, I try to reach him through our mind-link. Once, twice... He blocks me 99 times. The rogue forces me to call for help, and when Aiden Campbell finally answers, his first words come blazing with anger. "Lina Rutherford! You're risking your life over jealousy again? Kate's pet snow wolf has been stuck in a tree for three days! "She loves that wolf like her own child—if I'm late to save it, that's on you! You'll be a murderer!" I laugh so hard that tears stream down my face. That so-called "trapped" snow wolf? It's simply climbed onto a slanted pine tree in the yard so it can lazily sunbathe on the branches. No one trapped it—it just doesn't feel like coming down. "Thank you, Aiden. You're amazing!" There comes a soft, delicate voice through the phone. It's Kate Summers—Aiden's late brother's widow and also his childhood sweetheart. The bomb's countdown ticks down to three minutes. With a calm heart, I send my final message. "In the name of the Moon Goddess, I sever our mate bond." And then, I cut the mind-link.

Sepharine cared for Draven, the crippled son of an Alpha, for three long years. After painstakingly helping him regain his strength, he scorned her—for she was merely a lowly maid, unworthy of an Alpha's heir. Heartbroken, Sepharine left the pack. Only after losing her did Draven realize the depth of his feelings for her.