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Skymovies and novel, Paknaan, Mandaue City (2026)

18/08/2026

Не та комната: Переспала с дядей моего жениха

Мой брак с Климом, наследником империи Павловских, должен был стать идеальной сделкой для спасения семьи.

Но незадолго до свадьбы я застала его в номере отеля - он стонал на огромной кровати вместе с моей лучшей подругой.

Я хладнокровно сняла их на видео, а затем, ослепленная болью и алкоголем, провела ночь с опасным незнакомцем из бара, оставив ему тысячу долларов на тумбочке как плату за услуги.

На официальном ужине в честь помолвки Клим и его любовница публично унизили меня перед всей московской элитой.

«Ты похожа на разлагающийся труп, от одной мысли прикоснуться к тебе меня тошнит!»

Мой собственный отец не только не защитил меня, но и пригрозил раскопать могилу моей матери, если я немедленно не встану на колени и не извинюсь перед изменниками.

Я стала главным посмешищем, жалкой пешкой, которую каждый мог безнаказанно растоптать.

Я стояла в центре зала, сжимая кулаки до крови. Почему я, преданная и униженная, должна глотать эту грязь? Почему эти чудовища смеют шантажировать меня покоем моей мертвой матери?

Я не проронила ни слезы.

Я взломала систему отеля и вывела порновидео Клима на огромный экран прямо во время тоста.

А тот опасный незнакомец из отеля? Он оказался Сергеем Павловским - безжалостным изгнанным дядей Клима и истинным тираном семьи.

На глазах у всех он застегнул на моей шее тяжелое фамильное колье, словно ошейник, сделав меня своей личной пленницей.

Раз уж меня бросили в логово зверя, я заставлю их всех захлебнуться.

https://eng.moboreader.com/G1oaj/870741

18/08/2026

Untouchable: Doctor Alpha's Miracle
… more

18/08/2026

Intouchable: Le Médecin Miracle de l'Alpha

En tant que fille légitime de l'Alpha, mais née sans loup, je n'avais que mon amour pur pour mon fiancé, Darren.

Mais à trois jours de nos noces, mon père a froidement annulé notre union pour l'offrir sur un plateau d'argent à ma demi-sœur, Charly.

Pour préserver l'alliance politique, j'ai été jetée comme une vulgaire marchandise avariée au frère aîné de Darren, Demetri.
Un Alpha estropié, le corps rongé et nécrosé par le poison d'argent, condamné à mourir dans d'atroces souffrances avant la fin du mois.
Charly est venue parader dans ma chambre, se moquant de mon sort de future v***e chargée de veiller sur un cadavre.
Mon père, lui, m'a regardée avec le dégoût d'un marchand se débarrassant d'un déchet.
Dans une vie antérieure, incapable de supporter cette trahison et le vol de mon avenir, j'avais fini par mettre fin à mes jours.

Je n'avais jamais compris pourquoi mon propre sang me traitait pire qu'un chien errant, ni pourquoi ma mère et moi devions payer le prix fort pour l'ambition d'une famille qui nous haïssait tant.

Mais ils ignoraient tous que la mort n'avait pas voulu de moi.
Pendant les sept jours de mon coma, mon âme avait vécu une vie entière dans un monde interstellaire avancé, devenant une chirurgienne de légende.
De retour dans mon corps à la veille des noces, j'ai regardé ma sœur et mon père avec un calme glacial, et j'ai accepté cet arrangement.
Ils croyaient m'enfermer dans un tombeau avec un monstre mourant.
Ils ne savaient pas que mon scalpel allait le ramener des enfers, et qu'ensemble, nous allions tous les y traîner.

https://eng.moboreader.com/Nyhsr/178AFC

18/08/2026

Отвергнутая Луна

Я была на третьем месяце беременности, когда меня сбила машина.

Лёжа на земле и едва держась за жизнь, я снова и снова звонила мужу, Альфе Игорю – но он не отвечал.

Когда я наконец отмахнулась от боли, то увидела пост его первой любви, Алисы: «Спасибо, Альфа, за то, что ты знаешь, как сильно я боюсь темноты, и остаёшься со мной всю ночь. Он даже отменил все свои дела, чтобы отвезти меня на аукцион и подарить мне лучший подарок в мире. Я так счастлива!»

В тот момент меня осенило – пока я боролась за жизнь нашего ребёнка, он был с другой волчицей.

Я спокойно поставила лайк под её постом и убрала телефон.

Раз он выбрал свою первую любовь, я решила отпустить его.

Через семь дней я навсегда покину его мир вместе с нашим ребёнком.

https://eng.moboreader.com/GPECj/905001

18/08/2026

Одна ночь с боссом: Его неожиданное предложение

Обычный дизайнер Алина Орлова совершила самую немыслимую ошибку — после пьяного корпоратива она проснулась в президентском люксе в одной постели со своим боссом, ледяным и недосягаемым Юрием Волковым.

Вместо увольнения этот безжалостный акула бизнеса хладнокровно предложил ей стать его женой в качестве «ответственности». А после её резкого отказа начал проявлять к ней пугающую заботу, лично перевязывая ей травмированную ногу. Но эта иллюзия сказки рухнула на следующее же утро.

Придя в офис, Алина случайно обнаружила под своей клавиатурой чужую папку. Внутри лежали сверхсекретные эскизы директора по дизайну, от которых зависела честь компании на грядущем конкурсе.

Не успела она осознать весь ужас происходящего, как к её столу подошёл сам директор.

«Алина Орлова, можешь объяснить, почему мои конкурсные эскизы, которые я вчера запер в сейфе, оказались у тебя?»

Его ледяной голос заставил весь офис затихнуть. Взгляды десятков коллег вонзились в неё, словно иглы. В них читались презрение, злорадство и возбуждённое ожидание расправы. В одно мгновение она превратилась из восходящей звезды отдела в грязную воровку, пойманную с поличным.

Алина стояла с дрожащими руками, чувствуя себя абсолютно беспомощной. Вчера перед уходом её стол был чист.

Кто подложил эту папку? Завистники, узнавшие о её пропуске на неделю моды? Её бывший парень-изменщик? Или именно внезапное, удушающее внимание президента Волкова превратило её в мишень для чужой ненависти?

Глядя на враждебную толпу и понимая, что весь мир отвернулся от неё, Алина медленно опустила папку на стол. Паника в её глазах сменилась холодным отчаянием, а затем — ледяной решимостью. Ей придётся самой найти того, кто пытался её уничтожить.

https://eng.moboreader.com/HBrID/183BUF

17/08/2026

⚡⚡ Novel
Title: The Betrayed Girlfriend's Secret Million Dollar Comeback

Full episode 👉💥👀https://eng.moboreader.com/1N0wRZ/178AVR

For eight years, I lived in a freezing, unheated apartment, washing the bloodstains out of my mob enforcer boyfriend's suits every day.
He strictly gave me two thousand dollars a month, saying we had to live frugally and save up enough money to escape this dark world.
But when I was washing his clothes, I found a receipt for a custom engagement ring worth sixty-eight thousand dollars.
That ring wasn't for me, but for his secret lover, Mia.
I cracked the password on his encrypted laptop and uncovered his three-year-long double life.
He wasn't a bottom-tier thug struggling to survive in a dangerous game at all. He embezzled forty-eight thousand dollars from his mob boss's accounts every month to buy Mia diamonds, cars, and a luxury apartment in Manhattan.
And meanwhile, I was drinking watery porridge just to save a little on the electricity bill.
When I confronted him, he didn't show a single ounce of guilt, accusing me instead: "You're too heavy. Being around you suffocates me."
He thought I was a pathetic parasite who couldn't survive without his protection.
But what he didn't know was that I had already quietly earned over a million dollars through legitimate antique painting restoration work.
I packed my bags. It was time to let the mob know who was really stealing their money.

Chapter 1

Sierra's POV:
While washing the bloodstains out of the suit of the Cosa Nostra family's most feared enforcer, I found a crumpled receipt.
Preston didn't seem like a normal person at all; he was a top-tier enforcer for a mob family, making gangs from Red Hook to the Bronx shut their doors in fear.
I knew exactly the kind of violence he was capable of unleashing. Every night, he would return to our room with his right knuckles split and swollen, his gaze ruthless and hollow.
But I still remembered that he was once the boy who made a vow to me. On the night my mother swallowed pills and ended her life, he pulled me out of my stepfather's house and swore to protect me.
He said he was just a low-level thug struggling to survive in a dangerous game, forcing us to live in an unheated apartment, saving every penny in pursuit of a clean future.
And I actually believed his lies without reservation.
A small folded piece of paper floated to the surface. I fished it out, wiped away the suds, and read the printed words on it.
It was a receipt for a custom engagement ring from a private jeweler. Total price: sixty-eight thousand dollars.
In that moment, a brief surge of hope swelled in my chest, as if our years of penny-pinching had finally paid off.
But soon, my eyes fell on the client information section.
The delivery address was a luxury apartment in Manhattan. The recipient: Mia Vance.
My hope shattered instantly. I tossed the suit back into the water and walked straight into the bedroom.
Preston had left his spare laptop on the desk—the one he claimed was only used for running low-level accounts.
My job restoring antiques at the city art museum had taught me not only the techniques of restoring oil paintings but also how to trace digital footprints.
In less than ten minutes, I cracked the password and opened his secret ledger.
The screen displayed a transfer of forty-eight thousand dollars; meanwhile, in the kitchen, there was a half-eaten bowl of watery porridge.
The juxtaposition of these two images was absurd and undeniably real.
Preston wasn't a bottom-tier thug making five thousand dollars a month at all. From the illegal deals he managed for his boss, he skimmed forty-eight thousand dollars every month.
I clicked open his offshore bank records, revealing his three-year-long betrayal: forty thousand dollars was transferred to an account under Mia's name every month, leaving me with a mere two thousand dollars just to survive.
He had put a price tag on my youth, loyalty, and silence, and it was nothing more than the cold scraps falling from a rich man's dining table.
At eleven o'clock at night, the door lock clicked, and I sat at the small, dark dining table.
Preston's silhouette blocked the light from the hallway, carrying the scent of stale ci******es mixed with expensive cologne.
He reached out his large, rough hand and casually brushed the hair from my forehead.
"Why are you sitting in the dark like a ghost?" his deep, familiar voice sounded.
"To save on the electricity bill to pay rent," I answered emotionlessly.
Preston let out a low chuckle, walked into the kitchen, heated up the watery porridge I had made earlier, and brought it over.
"Eat something, baby, and stop worrying about money."
I stared at the thin porridge, feeling it hard to breathe.
"I found a receipt for custom jewelry in your suit pocket."
His hand froze on the back of the chair for a fraction of a second, but he quickly regained his composure: "That was an errand I ran for the boss. Why were you going through my pockets?"
"It fell out when I was scrubbing the bloodstains off your suit," I stared at him without blinking. "Sixty-eight thousand dollars is not a small sum. Your boss is really generous to his woman."
Preston let out a deep, mellow laugh and pushed the bowl of porridge a little closer to me.
"The higher-ups make a lot," he explained calmly. "Just be patient a little longer, and one day we'll be able to live that kind of life too."
I didn't say a word. His voice turned into a meaningless hum, drowned out by the number echoing constantly in my mind: forty-eight thousand dollars.
Preston picked up the burner phone on the table and replied to a message. The pale light from the screen reflected on his face.
A new text notification popped up on the lock screen. The sender was marked only with a red heart emoji and one word: "Wife."

Chapter 2

Sierra's POV:
Preston left in the hazy morning light of Saturday.
His lips, still carrying the bitter taste of stale coffee, pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. He whispered a lie, saying he had to go to some legitimate front company downtown to run accounts for the underboss.
After the door locked with a click, I lay on the cold, hollow mattress for a full hour.
I picked up my phone and typed the address from the receipt into the search bar. It was a newly built residential tower located in an upscale neighborhood where rent cost tens of thousands of dollars a month.
I then searched for Mia Vance's name on social media. Her accounts were completely public, meticulously showcasing her luxurious life.
The latest update was a short video recording her dining at a top-tier Japanese restaurant that required reservations six months in advance. Half-hidden in the corner of the frame was Preston's signature sharp jawline and the flash of light bouncing off the polished bezel of his watch.
I remembered my birthday last year when I suggested wanting a simple sushi dinner. He scolded me, calling it a boring and wasteful idea, and then boiled a pack of instant noodles in the same pot I usually used to boil his clothes.
My thumb scrolled down mechanically.
In a post from a month ago, Mia was standing in front of a brand new BMW MINI. The caption read that her "perfect boyfriend" had bought her this car in full on a random Tuesday, just because he "wanted to."
I closed my eyes, and the image of my electric scooter breaking down in the pouring rain surfaced in my mind. Soaked to the bone, I stood helplessly by the side of the road, while Preston refused to pay for repairs, let alone buy a cheap used car. He coldly said that the subway was enough for a woman who barely left the house.
My fingers continued to scroll and found an album from their three-year anniversary three months ago.
The photos showed how Preston had upgraded her entire penthouse: a high-end refrigerator, an imported induction stove, and custom Italian furniture.
At that moment, I felt a sharp sense of suffocation—after we had shared a rundown, unheated apartment for five years, Preston had quietly started a luxurious secret life that had lasted for three years.
I stood up stiffly, put on the worn-out coat that had been mended twice, and left the house.
I took the subway and walked six blocks to stand in front of that high-rise made of smooth stone and glass. I leaned against the rough, cold brick wall across the street and waited quietly.
As night fell, a large luxury SUV with darkly tinted windows drove out of the underground garage.
Mia sat in the passenger seat, laughing uproariously, one hand possessively resting on Preston's thigh. Preston turned his head to look at her.
It was a smile I hadn't seen in five years—relaxed, open, as if completely detached from the violent world he had built for me.
I watched the car disappear into the surging evening traffic, shoved my hands deep into my empty pockets, and turned toward the stuffy, murky subway station.
At nine o'clock that night, my phone began to vibrate on the old kitchen counter.
It was a text from an unknown number, and the message was blunt and clear: she knew I had been standing across the street watching their building all afternoon.
Mia introduced herself and stated exactly that she knew who I was because Preston talked about me often.
I stared at the pale glow of the screen, my cold fingers tapping the keyboard, replying that I was Preston's girlfriend of eight years and that we lived together.
On the other end, the gray bubble indicating she was typing flickered on and off, silently torturing me for a full minute.
Her reply finally came. She wrote: In Preston's heart, your relationship died a long time ago.

Chapter 3

Sierra's POV:
The glaring white light of the phone screen cut through the darkness of the kitchen, accompanied by the buzzing sound as Mia continuously sent me long blocks of text.
She claimed Preston told her I was severely depressed and mentally unstable. He was afraid to break up with me, thinking I might do something extreme.
The words Mia relayed, piece by piece, felt like carefully calculated, cruel blades. She said that the two thousand dollars in monthly support was nothing but a little charity to ensure I stayed quiet and out of the way.
Then, she sent a message that made my blood freeze instantly.
She detailed the clinical specifics of my mother's su***de, how I struggled agonizingly to cope with it in my youth, and even commented that I was just a "broken object of pity."
Preston had used my deepest, most painful trauma as conversational fodder, handing it to his lover as an excuse to dodge his responsibilities.
Following that, Mia sent a photo: a diamond Tiffany necklace lying quietly on a pristine white card that read, "For the rest of my life, I have you by my side."
Recalling my last birthday, when Preston returned empty-handed and casually brushed it off with, "Being alive for another year is the best gift," a wave of bitterness welled up in my heart.
Mia sent a voice memo next. Her voice was sickly sweet but laced with thorns, pretending to kindly advise me to let Preston go, saying I was like a parasite and should learn some self-respect and stop humiliating myself.
I pressed the lock button and walked out onto the freezing balcony. I stood in the biting wind until my breathing steadied and the tears dried before they could fall.
I unlocked my phone and replied briefly: "Thank you for telling me."
Mia replied immediately, asking if I was finally willing to pack up my trash and tactfully bow out.
Just before I had time to reply, the front door lock clicked.
Preston walked in, casually tossing his keys onto the counter. He claimed he had just returned from a grueling business trip working for the underboss, and handed me a box of squashed pastries from a convenience store as a "peace offering" that cost less than fifteen dollars.
I looked at the grease-stained box of pastries, then looked up at him.
I calmly confronted him about where he had really been and told him I already knew he had spent the entire weekend at Mia's Manhattan apartment.
The exhausted smile Preston had practiced for years froze on his face. He stared at me, a delayed realization dawning in his eyes—his three years of lies had instantly collapsed.
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping, and without a shred of guilt, he admitted to the cheating.
He looked straight into my eyes and said: "Mia is the woman I want to marry," his tone filled with undeniable finality.
My voice trembled as I asked, "Then what have I been these past eight years? Washing the blood from your collars, enduring the darkness for the sake of your pride, suffering through poverty—what did it all mean?"
Preston covered his face with his hand, his movements carrying impatient exhaustion.
"You're just too heavy. Being with you is like drowning; it's nothing but exhaustion and suffocation."
Then, he brought up my mother's death, saying the only reason he stayed with me was out of a twisted sense of obligation.
He emphasized that being with Mia was light and easy, completely free of the suffocating shadows of mob life.
The doorbell suddenly rang, breaking the silence in the apartment.
Preston's head snapped toward the door, a clear look of panic flashing across his face. "Don't open it!" he hissed, trying to block my path with his body, but the doorknob was already turning in my hand.
I opened the door and saw Mia standing in the hallway.
She was wearing a designer silk dress, her makeup flawless, bearing an expression that was a mix of disgust and pity. She didn't even glance at me as she walked straight in and hooked her arm through Preston's.
Standing by the open door, gripping the cold brass handle, I said calmly that I wasn't going to make a scene.
Preston refused to look at me the entire time, only demanding a clean break and telling me to move out within a week.
I didn't raise my voice; I calmly agreed to the breakup, not leaking a single ounce of excess emotion.
Preston and Mia walked out the door together, their footsteps fading away.
When the heavy door clicked shut, my legs could no longer support me, and I slid down the door panel to the floor.
A faint trembling spread from my hands through my entire body, but even so, for that man who never truly belonged to me, I still didn't shed a single tear.

To continue the story click here 👉👀💥https://eng.moboreader.com/1N0wRZ/178AVR

17/08/2026

⚡⚡ Novel
Title: The Secret Awakened Bloodline Of His
Broken Mate

Full story 👉 👀 💥https://eng.moboreader.com/1N0rEz/178AQD

I was diagnosed with Soul Withering Syndrome, a high-risk condition where the wolf inside me was slowly starving to death.
Full of hope, I went to find my mate, Gideon—the top healer in the alliance—desperate to find a shred of comfort from him.
But as I stood outside his office, I heard him coldly state that I was just being unreasonable.
"Chloe is weaponizing her anxiety to force me into a mating ceremony."
He could not even be bothered to glance at my official medical scroll, instead accusing me of faking my pain just to steal his attention away from his obsession, the rogue wolf Yara.
And when Yara called, lying about an obviously fabricated poisoning incident, he abandoned me without hesitation.
He left me shivering in the freezing hallway, and eventually, due to the backlash of my withering soul, I coughed up pitch-black blood.
For seven years, I had been waiting for him to see my pain.
I could not understand how the man who had once exchanged mating tokens with me could be so blind. He let my soul rot in the dark, yet paraded himself as a loyal hero, running around at the beck and call of a woman full of lies.
I did not shed a single tear, because my heart was already completely dead.
Then, without hesitation, I threw his silver mate ring fiercely into the trash can.
I contacted my family and accepted an arranged marriage—to wed the most feared Alpha in the alliance, Silas.
This time, I chose to live for myself.

Chapter 1

Chloe's POV:
The heavy mahogany doors of the clinic were slightly ajar.
I stood in the freezing hallway, clutching a roll of parchment tightly to my chest.
It was the diagnostic scroll from the Supreme Medical Council.
Soul Exhaustion, high risk.
In our society, this meant my human shell was still alive, but the wolf spirit inside me was gradually starving to death in the darkness.
I came here wanting to get some comfort from Gideon. He was my mate and the top healer in the alliance. We had been together for seven years, but I suspected I was nothing more than a tool for his political alliance.
Today, the voices coming from his office made my blood run cold in an instant.
"Her vital signs are stable, Jace. This is nothing more than purely psychological depression," Gideon said, his tone dripping with the arrogant confidence of a future Alpha.
"Chloe is using her anxiety to create pressure, forcing me to perform the mating ceremony. She knows very well that the claiming mark can cure her little mood swings."
Beta Jace sounded a bit hesitant: "But, Alpha, she has lost so much weight, and her wolf's scent is fading. This doesn't look like she's faking it."
I held my breath, hoping Gideon would show a trace of concern.
However, Gideon only let out a cold, dismissive laugh.
"She is just a spoiled noble lady throwing a tantrum because I spend time looking after Yara."
"Yara's trauma is real. Her scent is the only thing that relieves my healer's fatigue. Chloe just wants attention."
My chest tightened so much I could barely breathe.
The wolf spirit inside me let out a weak, dying whimper in the depths of my mind.
For seven years, I had been waiting for him to see my pain.
Now, I finally understood that he never would.
I closed my eyes and opened the mind-link to my pack.
The mind-link is the telepathic bond that connects our pack members.
"Mother," I called out in my mind, my voice trembling.
"What is it, my child?" the Elder Matriarch responded immediately.
"Tell the Shadow Crown Pack that I agree to the political marriage. I am willing to accept their Alpha."
After a moment of silence, a fierce wave of maternal love and protectiveness flooded into my consciousness.
"It is already done, Chloe. The Shadow Crown Pack has been preparing in secret for months, just waiting for your decision. Come home."
The moment I severed the link, the heavy door was pushed open.
Gideon stood there, wearing a tailored suit.
He had already caught the scent of my fading, desperate aura in the hallway. His jaw was clenched tight, full of annoyance.
He didn't ask why I looked so pale, nor did he ask why I was shivering.
Instead, he unleashed a powerful burst of his Alpha Aura.
It was the Alpha Command, an absolute vocal and physical pressure that forced lower-ranking wolves to submit.
"Stop this nonsense, Chloe. Stop playing these little games." His voice echoed with heavy oppression, making my legs almost give out.
My hands trembled as I handed him the scroll stamped with the seal of the Supreme Medical Council.
"I am sick, Gideon. The wolf inside me is dying."
He didn't even cast a single glance at the scroll before swatting my hand away, his eyes full of icy disappointment.
"You grew up in a warm, comfortable manor. You have never known what real pain is. Stop trying to steal the sympathy that rightfully belongs to Yara."
Suddenly, Gideon's eyes lost their focus, turning blank for a second.
Someone was communicating with him through the mind-link.
"Yara?" Gideon's cold face instantly morphed into an expression of deep concern. "Another panic attack? Take deep breaths, I am on my way."
He grabbed his car keys from the desk.
He was leaving me, letting me stand here all alone with a high-risk death notice in my hand.
"Gideon," I called him softly, my voice barely audible.
He stopped in his tracks, but did not look back.
"If I were to die right here, right now... would you turn around and look at me?" I asked.
Gideon sighed impatiently.
"Grow up, Chloe," he said coldly, before walking past me and disappearing down the end of the hallway.
Beta Jace walked out of the office, looking at me with pity in his eyes.
I slowly rolled up the scroll and put it back into my bag.
"Jace," I said, my voice hollow, "don't tell him anything about me."
I turned and walked out of the clinic, greeted by the night enveloped in a cold, raging rain.
The raindrops fell, soaking my thin dress. The neon lights of the street reflected in the puddles, shattering into fragments of light and shadow.
I felt a coldness like never before, as if my life was coming to an end.
Just then, a pitch-black Maybach slowly pulled up to the sidewalk.
The window slowly rolled down. A man sat in the back seat, his face half-hidden in the shadows.
He exuded a faint scent, like the crispness of a pine forest after a snowfall, which warmly wrapped around my freezing soul, making my dying wolf slowly lift her head.
"Get in, Chloe." Alpha Silas's deep voice carried no oppressive aura, only a calm yet powerful presence. "My pack needs your ancient bloodline to secure our borders, and you need a way out."
I looked at the most feared Alpha in the alliance, and for the first time in years, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Chapter 2

Chloe's POV:
I sat in the back seat of the Maybach, letting the car's heater dry my rain-soaked clothes.
Alpha Silas remained silent and didn't look directly at me.
He just sat quietly, offering me the silent respect I had spent years begging Gideon for but never received.
When the car pulled up to the penthouse apartment I shared with Gideon, I thanked Silas and went upstairs alone.
This penthouse, the place I used to call "home," had now become a clash of eras: high ceilings and pointed arches contrasted sharply with modern glass tables and minimalist decor.
This was supposed to be our home.
But as soon as I walked in, my nose wrinkled, and a wave of disgust surged in my heart.
A calming incense was burning on the glass coffee table, a special incense prepared for wolves who had experienced severe trauma.
Gideon had bought it for Yara.
The entire apartment was now permeated with her scent.
Yara was a rogue, a lone wolf without a pack, and her scent carried a sour, wild, and erratic feel.
The smell made my stomach churn.
I went into the bedroom and pulled out a large leather suitcase.
Because of the extreme exhaustion of my soul, my muscles felt like they were gradually turning to ash.
Every movement left me drained, but my mind was clearer than ever before.
I opened my jewelry box.
Inside were silver cufflinks and the matching rings Gideon and I had exchanged as mating tokens years ago.
They still carried his scent.
I picked them up and threw them into the trash can without hesitation.
I was folding the last sweater when the front door was slammed open.
Gideon strode into the bedroom, bringing with him a biting cold wind and Yara's strong, sour stench.
When he saw the suitcase on the bed, he stopped in his tracks.
A sneer formed on his face, laced with mockery.
"Is this your new tactic?" Gideon leaned against the doorframe and asked, his tone full of sarcasm.
"You think packing a bag is going to force me to mark you?"
The "mark" is the most important ceremony in our society.
A male wolf leaves a permanent bite mark on his mate's neck, symbolizing the union of souls and absolute possession.
"I am leaving, Gideon," I said, zipping up the suitcase.
Gideon's gaze fell on the parchment scroll resting on the nightstand.
He picked it up, glanced at the official seal on it, and threw it on the floor.
"How much did you pay someone to forge this prop?" he sneered.
"I am the chief healer of this territory. I know when a wolf is dying. You are perfectly fine."
He took a step closer, his tall figure casting a shadow over me.
"You are just throwing a tantrum because I spend my time taking care of a real patient," he said in a tone of feigned pity.
"Listen to me, if you stop this unreasonable behavior and wait until Yara stabilizes..."
He paused, looking at me with eyes that seemed as if he were granting me the world.
"On the next full moon, I will mark you."
He reached out, trying to touch the sensitive scent glands on the back of my neck.
Instantly, an intense wave of revulsion washed over me.
I quickly stepped back, dodging his touch.
Gideon's hand froze in mid-air.
His eyes turned pitch black, and a low, dangerous growl rumbled from his chest.
An Alpha's pride could not tolerate rejection.
Just as he was about to use his command to suppress me, his phone suddenly rang.
He answered it, and Yara's weak, hoarse gasps came from the other end.
"Gideon! Save me! I drank from the chalice they sent, and my throat burns like it's been scorched by silver! There's blood everywhere!"
Silver is a metal that can burn wolf skin and stop cellular regeneration; it is extremely lethal to wolves.
His throat twitched, but he couldn't make a sound.
"I am coming right now, Yara! Hold on!"
Without even looking back, he violently slammed the heavy mahogany door shut.
Before the vibrations of the doorframe could settle, Yara's pungent, nauseating scent rushed in with the rapid shift in the air, invading the dead silence of the apartment.
"Gideon," I said softly.
He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his face full of impatience.
"If my organs were being scorched right now," I asked him, "would you stay?"
A look of anger flashed across Gideon's face.
"Chloe, you are too selfish. You don't understand how a pack works at all."
He slammed the door and left without looking back.
The apartment fell into dead silence.
I did not cry. My tears had dried up years ago.
I picked up the parchment scroll from the floor and opened my mind-link.
"Mother," I transmitted my thoughts.
"What is it, Chloe?"
"Change the bonding ceremony with the Shadow Crown Pack to tomorrow. I want it done as soon as possible."
"Understood. The Elders will prepare it."
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
This time it was a regular call, not a mind-link.
I answered and heard Silas's deep, steady voice coming through the receiver.
"I have arranged a meeting with the Elder Healer of the Supreme Council for tonight," Silas said. "I am waiting for you downstairs."
I glanced at Gideon's ring in the trash can, and a long-lost smile curled on my lips.
"I will be right down."

Chapter 3

Chloe's POV:
The Supreme Medical Council building was like a giant beast slumbering in the mountain mist.
Its long corridors were filled with the lingering scent of bitter wormwood and stale disinfectant.
I sat on a wooden bench in the hallway, feeling my inner wolf shivering from the cold.
Alpha Silas sat right beside me. He wore a long, black tailored coat, looking like a king of the night, exuding an air of majesty.
However, unlike Gideon, Silas completely restrained his aggressive Alpha aura within his own body. He ensured that the air around me was safe.
"It's our turn," Silas said softly.
I tried to stand up, but a sudden wave of weakness hit my legs. The world started spinning, and I fell toward the floor.
Before I could hit the ground, a large, warm hand firmly grabbed my elbow. Silas caught me.
The moment his skin touched mine, an intense jolt of electricity surged up my arm. It was the "Lightning Touch."
In our lore, the Moon Goddess, the guardian deity of the wolves, designed five sensory triggers to help wolves recognize their fated mates. And this Lightning Touch was one of them.
I gasped and looked up into his deep eyes.
Silas's pupils slightly dilated for a fraction of a second, showing that his inner wolf also felt that power. But he didn't pull me into his arms like a wild beast, nor did he growl and declare, "She is mine!"
He simply steadied me with absolute respect, and let go immediately after confirming I had my balance.
"Take your time," he said softly.
We walked into the consultation room.
The Elder Healer was an old wolf with gray hair, but his eyes were as sharp as knives.
I was too exhausted to speak; my throat felt as dry as gravel.
Silas stepped forward. Even though we had only been together for a few hours, he perfectly described every single one of my symptoms: the cold sweats, the fading scent, the shallow rhythm of my breathing. He didn't miss a detail.
The Elder Healer sighed heavily and handed Silas a dark glass bottle filled with a potion.
"This is an ancient, high-tier elixir that holds the power to awaken the inner wolf spirit," the Elder warned. "It will force her wolf to wake up and fight the exhaustion. But the side effects are extremely brutal; she will suffer a severe physical rejection reaction."
Silas took the bottle solemnly.
"I will not leave her side," Silas promised. "I will monitor every shift in her aura closely."
After seeing the doctor, Silas drove me back to my family's ancient manor.
The rain had stopped, but thick fog shrouded the woods, feeling particularly heavy.
Before I got out of the car, Silas formally handed me a thick folder.
"This is our alliance contract," he said as he turned on the reading light in the car. "My pack needs the white wolf bloodline to solidify our legitimate rule in the North. This is a political reality."
I looked down at the documents.
"I also added a special clause," Silas continued, his voice deep and solemn. "If this marriage brings any additional burden to your soul, you can terminate it at any time, without any explanation."
I looked at him in shock. "But your pack needs this alliance."
"Yes, I need your bloodline," Silas said, looking directly into my eyes. "But my only requirement for this alliance is that you survive."
The words "that you survive" pierced straight into my heart like a sharp blade.
My vision blurred with warm tears.
I took his pen and signed my name, without even finishing reading the rest of the clauses.
When I finally returned to my bedroom and turned on my phone, the screen instantly froze from a massive flood of notifications.
Gideon had sent me dozens of messages and had tried to force a mind-link connection multiple times.
"Chloe, did you actually move out?"
"Stop embarrassing me. Tonight is the Blood Moon Pack's anniversary banquet."
"I command you to attend. If you show up and behave properly, I will mark you. This is my final concession."
I stared at the glowing text on the screen. He still thought of himself as a savior descended from heaven, condescendingly bestowing his favors upon me.
I put the phone down and picked up the dark glass bottle the Elder Healer had given me.
I swallowed the bitter elixir.
Then, I opened my closet and took out a black evening gown.
I packed the diagnostic scroll and a thick stack of legal documents prepared by my family's lawyers.
Tonight, I would go to his banquet.
But not to beg for his pity. I was going to stand beneath his most magnificent crystal chandelier, under the watchful eyes of all his subjects, and tear his hypocritical cloak of authority to shreds.

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Skymovies and novel

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