4117 Book(s) Related to my loyal alpha

Beta Malcolm and I were at the Civil Affairs Bureau, ready to register our marriage. We were just waiting to take the final photo when he got a phone call and left.
He abandoned me right there at the marriage registration office, leaving me stuck in an impossible situation.
I called him—no answer.
I messaged him—no reply.
In the end, I had no choice but to call his childhood sweetheart’s number. Beta Malcolm answered.
“Rowena, can you stop being so annoying? Queenie twisted her ankle—I need to take care of her today. Stop calling and waking her up. We’ll reschedule the registration.”
I bit my lip and murmured into the phone,
“This makes it the seventh time we’ve rescheduled.”
“So what? The Civil Affairs Bureau isn’t going anywhere—it’s not like it’s going to disappear!”
My face was blank, but it felt like my heart was being carved open.
A staff member looked at me with pity and asked,
“Alpha Rowena, are we still doing this?”
I gave a small nod.
“Yes. Let’s go through with it.”

Amelia Dolivo has known her whole life that she would one day be the Alpha of her pack; thus making her the first female Alpha in history. The journey to get there has been long and full of hardships, but a true Alpha never backs down from a fight; a true Alpha never accepts defeat.

Whether it be enemies plotting in the shadows to bring her down, or her own soulmate who questions her very capabilities as a woman; Amelia will take them all head-on. She will show them all why you should never underestimate a woman.

A Queen Among Alphas is the first book in the Queen Among Series/The Gods' Saga. This is an interconnected series, and to see how the overall story ends, I recommend reading the full series.
Here are the books in the series in reading order:
A Queen Among Alphas - Book 1
Bite-Size Luna - A Queen Among Alphas Prequel (available under the A Queen Among Alphas book)
A Queen Among Snakes - Book 2
A Queen Among Blood - Book 3
A Queen Among Darkness - Book 4
Whole Again - A Queen Among Alpha's spin-off (available under the A Queen Among Alphas book)
A Queen Among Tides - Book 5
Valor, Virtue, and Verve - A Queen Among Tides Prequel Spin-off (coming soon)
A Queen Among Gods - Book 6
Runaway Empress - A Queen Among Snakes Prequel (coming soon)
A Queen Among Tempests - Book 7
Dark Vocation - A Queen Among Darkness spin-off (coming soon)
A Court of Arcane Souls Anthology (short stories focused on side characters within this universe, exclusive to Ream)

Matilda Fairfax
I had always believed the rule that powerful she-wolves could only serve as academy teachers was unfair, but I had no choice except to obey.
At thirty-one, I had never found my mate. Then, on the night of my students' graduation, fate played its cruelest joke. My mate turned out to be one of my own students.
A forbidden relationship could never be allowed, especially when he was a royal. Yet he pursued me relentlessly, cherished me, and promised to make me his queen.
On the day of his coronation, he shattered every promise. He rejected me before everyone and chose another she-wolf of lower rank.
As if that humiliation wasn't enough, I became the daughter of a traitor overnight, condemned to suffer for my father's sins.
Then came the king's order:
"Travel to the far north and marry the dark Lycan King. Fulfill your duty, and your family's freedom will be yours."
With no other choice, I journeyed north and stood before the feared Lycan King's pack, expecting nothing but despair.
Priel Roake
For generations, werewolves had been the sworn enemies of Lycans. Every she-wolf sent to my kingdom as a peace offering eventually took her own life, so when another arrived, everyone believed her fate would be no different.
But when I returned to the palace, she had not only survived, she had claimed her crown and begun setting my kingdom right in ways no one else ever had.
Even then, I wanted nothing to do with her. She despised everything about me and wished me dead.
Unfortunately, my wolf had other plans.
He wanted her. He wanted her wolf.
Before I realized it, I found myself craving every part of the woman who hated me.
The cruelest part was that I had very little time left because of the curse I carried.
Yet all I wanted was to spend whatever days remained making her smile... even if she could never love me back.

I thought love was enough.
I thought saving the Ember Claw Pack with everything I had—my heart, my loyalty, even my body—meant something. It led to a Moon Ceremony… and a marriage to Alpha William, the man I gave my soul to.
But love doesn’t protect you from betrayal.
Especially not when the one he truly wanted was never me.
I was glowing with the joy of carrying our pup when I walked in on him—holding her.
Quinn.
The fated mate everyone believed to be dead. Alive. Back. In his arms.
And me? Just the mistake he settled for.
"I only married you out of gratitude," he said, barely meeting my eyes.
Then, turning to Quinn with a softness I never got, he added, "If she hadn’t sold her ancestral land to save the pack, I would’ve never completed the Moon Ceremony with her."
And the final blow?
"So what if she found out? I’ll just say I thought she was you that night we slept together."
That night—The one I thought meant everything.
But it didn’t end with him.
His mother pointed her finger at m

Eighteen-year-old Princess Eleanor Anderson has always believed her future was already written·A loving family. A handsome fiancé. A peaceful life within the safety of Namalia—the last human kingdom surrounded by monsters.

But everything changes when the dreaded Bridal Selection returns.

For centuries, the humans of Namalia have survived under a fragile alliance with the Vampire Realm. Every twenty years, a human bride must be offered to the Vampire King in exchange for the kingdom's protection.

This time, the chosen bride comes from Eleanor's family.

And the sacrifice is her twin sister, Maria.

Determined to save Maria from a fate worse than death, Eleanor vows to fight the decision, even if it means standing against her kingdom, its traditions, and the terrifying Vampire King himself.

But before she could save her sister, Maria escaped from the kingdom, leaving Eleanor as her only Substitute.

Now Eleanor is being forced to become the kings fated bride.

For seven years, Rose Rollins hid her noble Silver Wolf bloodline in Blackstone City.
She saved Zack Morrigan from ruin and helped Shawn Haynes rise from disgrace. They once swore they would protect her forever—until an innocent-looking Omega, Sally, stole their attention, their trust, and finally their hearts.
Framed, humiliated, and nearly killed by the men she once loved, Rose finally stops waiting for their loyalty. She returns to Golden Oak City and accepts the arranged bond she once fled: a union with Asher Thorne, the powerful Alpha of the Golden Pack.
But Rose's return exposes more than old wounds. Sally’s lies begin to unravel. Zack and Shawn discover the woman they betrayed was never powerless. And Asher, cold and dangerous, may be the only wolf who truly respects her.
As enemies close in and regrets arrive too late, Rose must choose between revenge, forgiveness, and a future where she never looks back.

Brooke Mitchell has everything she’s supposed to want: a multimillion-dollar technology company, a powerful family, and a perfect engagement to wealthy heir Cullen Ardner.

Then she discovers what her perfect life was built on.

Hidden financial records connect Cullen’s family to criminal networks, human trafficking, and missing women, and Brooke’s own company has been used to move the money. Worse, her father’s signature is all over the evidence.

Before Brooke can confront him, he’s murdered.

And someone makes sure every piece of evidence points straight at her.

Now Brooke is the primary suspect, her home has been broken into, and someone is hunting for a secret her father left behind. Just as she prepares to run, FBI Special Agent Weston Foxx appears.

He claims he can protect her.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he was sent to capture her.

Weston has already seen the classified intelligence naming Brooke a corporate criminal, traitor, and possible murderer. He believes the case against her, until Brooke starts tearing apart evidence that looks a little too perfect.

Then armed men come to kill her.

Suddenly Weston has a choice: follow his orders or protect the woman he was sent to arrest.

With Brooke’s fiancé hunting them, federal secrets closing in, and neither sure who they can trust, running together may be their only chance to survive.

Falling for each other was never part of the plan.

What is fate? Waking up three days after you rejected your fated mates in front of the entire school, with the memories of your husband's betrayal still burning in your chest? Or finding out that the only way to save your empire is to compete for love on national television—against the man who murdered you?

Make your pick.

Odessa Montgomery died at thirty—cheated on, poisoned, and blown to pieces by the husband she trusted. Then she opened her eyes at twenty-one, three days after the mating gala where she publicly rejected the De Luca triplets. The rejection is still fresh. The whole school is still talking. And Damien Gracias, her charming hockey-star boyfriend, has no idea she remembers every lie he ever told her.

She dumps him. Publicly. Brutally. But freedom comes at a cost. Her grandfather's will is clear: find a mate or lose the Montgomery empire. With Damien out and the De Luca triplets—her humiliated fated mates—lurking in her past, her options are nothing.

Then comes Moonlit Bonds, a televised competition where unmated shifters compete for love and a life-changing prize. Win, and her inheritance is hers. Lose, and lose everything.

There's just one problem. Damien and his true mate, Sarah, have joined the show, hoping to legitimize their bond on camera. And the De Luca triplets are also contestants—three alphas she rejected, two who bullied her, and one who has never stopped watching.

Now Odessa is trapped in a villa with cameras in every corner, a public audience that votes on her fate, and enemies who want her dead.

She came to win.

She might just find revenge.

But falling for the enemy? That was never part of the plan.

My husband, Marco, in his bid for the position of Don, was forced to marry the young widow of the previous Don, Claudia.
Every night, after returning from Claudia’s place, he would hold me and swear, "You’re the only woman I love, Elena. Claudia has the connections I need. Once I have real power and secure my position, I’ll make you my wife in name and in public."
But as I waited for him to rise to power, what started as a political act turned into nights where he simply never came home.
Then, on Christmas, I was dragged to their engagement party—where I was beaten in front of everyone.
Our six-year-old daughter, Sophia, knelt on the floor, crying and begging him, "Godfather, please, let my mommy go..."
But Marco stayed silent.
"It’s okay," I whispered, picking up my wounded daughter. "Mommy’s going to take you somewhere that truly belongs to us."
What Marco never knew was this: I never cared about being the Donna of this small city.
I am the only heir of the Rossi family—the most powerful Mafia family in all of Sicily.

The End Times Came, and I Awakened the Ability to Grow Vegetables

Every time I catalyzed a vegetable, it drained my stamina and life force.

But my sister Lucy needs to eat, and everyone in the camp needs to eat.

So I gave my life to the soil, exchanging life for food again and again.

Cult leader Silas patted my shoulder and said I was God's gardener, that Eden was born because of me.

I thought I had found a home.

I distributed the vegetables I grew to everyone in the camp.

Until I discovered the blue-green veins on my sister's arm.

Until I discovered that the bottle of "holy water" I fed her every day wasn't medicine at all.

Until I discovered that my sister had been sent to their altar.

Last life, my girlfriend was trapped in a fire. I ran in, took the burns, and dragged her out alive.
When she woke up, she pointed at me first: “He’s the arsonist.”

Only later did I learn the truth—she’d been sleeping with her boss. They set the fire for an insurance payout and pinned everything on me.
Police investigations, the company cutting ties, the media turning me into a monster—I couldn’t prove a thing. I died in the rain, discarded like trash.

This time, I didn’t expose them. I didn’t call the cops.
On the night of the fire, I left early—then staged a robbery and walked myself into a police station, building the cleanest alibi possible.

They lit the match on schedule, trapped themselves, and waited for me to charge in.
As the flames grew and I never showed, she called—furious—demanding I come now.

I glanced at the officer taking my statement and said into the phone, calmly:
“Sorry. I can’t leave right now.”

At the parents' meeting, the daughter's diary was read aloud: "My father is the Grand Duke of the Night."
The room erupted in laughter.
The mentor, disregarding her daughter's dignity, tore up her diary, while the nouveau riche woman advised me , a liar, to "get out of this neighborhood."
I didn't say anything, I just stood up. Then, their knees were all shattered.

"We are denying coverage for your father's surgery. You can either pay the $240,000 out of pocket, or wait for him to be paralyzed for the rest of his life."
My father was critically injured, the insurance company denied the claim, and the regional director arrogantly threw the denial letter in my face.
I gave a cold sneer and backhandedly slapped my Juris Doctor (JD) dissertation on his desk.

My squadmates falsely accused me of being a vampire. They poured scalding water over me claiming it was "holy water," spiked my meals with garlic extract, and even splashed me with stinking goat blood. In the end, their madness drove them to plunge a sharpened cross straight into my heart...

My wife and in-laws have been acting strange lately.

They've always hated the Texas farm, but now they suddenly care about me and the ranch.

My wife, who used to complain about me spending money on the "doomsday bunker" farmhouse project, is now actually encouraging me to complete it.

They even say I've been working too hard and bought me a plane ticket to Mexico.

Just as I'm about to take the ticket, a barrage comment appears before my eyes—

【Don't go! Your wife has been reborn from the apocalypse—she wants you to die out there!】

On my first day as an intern at the zoo, the old director assigned us animals to care for.
In my previous life, my classmate Jack chose the easy-to-care-for African elephant, while I was forced to take on the brutal Siberian tiger.
A month later, the apocalypse struck, and the Siberian tiger successfully evolved, leading me to escape the encirclement.
Jack's elephant, however, couldn't outrun the mutated species and was torn to pieces. Driven
by jealousy, the surviving Jack incited a mob to brutally beat me and the giant tiger to death, dismembering and cannibalizing us.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the animals were assigned.
Jack had already taken the Siberian tiger, pushing the elephant to me, and I knew he had also been reborn.
But what he didn't know was that the Siberian tiger he had devoured was also reborn with me.

Her daughter lay dying—her only chance at survival resting in a bone marrow transplant from her biological father.
That man, the one Stella Johnson had once loved with all her heart, was nowhere to be found.
While Stella made call after call, hands trembling with desperation, Charles Hart was busy building a crystal castle for the daughter of his beloved white moonlight—lighting up the entire city with fireworks in her honor.
All Stella got in return was a cold, clipped response:
"I'm busy."
And then… silence.
She waited.
And waited.
Until the warmth left her daughter's tiny hand.
He never came.
Cradling the small urn, Stella stepped into the streets—only to be greeted by a cruel spectacle.
Every digital screen on the bustling boulevard played the same scene:
Charles, his white moonlight, and their daughter, smiling under the fireworks as they sang "Happy Birthday," basking in a future built on someone else's grave.
The love Stella once held for Charles didn't just die that night—it was burned to ash.
And from those ashes, something far stronger rose:
Hatred. Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.

Do all men lose interest in their wives after marriage?

We’ve been married for five years, and he never touched me.

At first he said he wasn’t well, so I was understanding. Later he recovered, but still kept me far away.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my sister came in for a check-up, clearly pregnant with his child.

The truth hit me hard: he wasn’t incapable. He was just incapable with me.

I drew up the divorce papers, ready to end this empty marriage.

On the reason for divorce, I wrote with my own hand:

“Male sexual dysfunction; no marital relations in five years.”

He only smiled coldly when he saw it.

A week later, in the urology clinic.

I put on my medical gloves, looked at him, and said calmly:

“Sir, will you undress yourself, or shall I help you?”

His disapproval didn’t take away my confidence.

I still embraced better things in my career and love life!

But his life started to be filled with one accident after another.

"Evelyn Drake, are you truly set on joining the FBI as an undercover agent?"
The senior officer Garrett stared intently at the elegantly dressed woman before him, his gaze laced with inquiry and faint doubt.
It was his occupational habit, even a special knack, to categorize everyone he met into distinct social ranks—and he was exceptionally good at it, never once misjudging anyone.
In his eyes, Evelyn Drake, with her flawless makeup and platinum-blonde hair all the way down to the roots, was far from cut out to be an agent.
He had seen countless such pampered wealthy wives throwing petty tantrums. Most would make a scene at the front desk, only to be coaxed home meekly by their rich husbands soon after.
If such a delicate lady were admitted into the FBI, he suspected even the Kevlar bulletproof vest alone would chafe her soft skin raw.
Lost in these thoughts, Garrett let out a disdainful chuckle, his tone brimming with scorn. "Are you really sure? You'd give up your lavish lifestyle to become an FBI agent?"
Sensing his contempt, Evelyn took off her expensive wristwatch and slipped it into her handbag, then nodded firmly at him. "I am absolutely certain."

Reborn seven days before the zombie siege, Shen Lie returns to the day he was tricked into a deadly dark web live stream. Betrayed by his wife and trapped as prey for global wealthy viewers, he uses his stunt skills to layout a counter-kill plan, turning every hunter into the hunted and exposing the bloody evil behind the apocalypse game.

My ex and I used to live inside a romance movie.

She was the heroine’s best friend. I was the hero’s loyal sidekick. When the leads got their happy ending, we—the two “extras”—ended up together like an afterthought.

Then the credits rolled, and real life didn’t. The heroine died in a car crash, the hero fell apart, and my girlfriend chose that moment to leave me.

She said she was done being a supporting role. She wanted the spotlight—she wanted the heroine’s place.

I didn’t beg. I left the city alone and started over from nothing.

Five years later, I returned with my own company group—and ran into her again at a charity gala.

She still looked flawless, moving through the room of power and money, keeping up the image of success. She assumed I was still the same guy trailing behind someone else, and she spoke to me with that familiar, pitying superiority—offering to “help” me back into the circle.

Until the lights dimmed, and the host read my name with respectful clarity, inviting me to the stage.

That was when she realized the gala’s biggest sponsor was me—and the “sidekick” she thought she’d left behind was now someone she could never reach again.

Seven years ago, my wife and son committed perjury in court, conspiring to send me to a high-security prison, all so they could elope with that fraudster.
Seven years later, I was released.
My ex-wife, with her son, arrogantly tossed a business card onto my faded work clothes:
"Go kowtow to my new husband and apologize, and I'll give you a waiter's job."
Little did she know that just hours later, at a top-tier financial summit across America, her seemingly untouchable new husband was kneeling at my feet like a dog.
And her proud multi-billion dollar empire was nothing more than garbage I could crush with a flick of my finger.

My daughter has been blind since birth. On her eighteenth birthday, she finally received news of a matching cornea donor.
Our whole family was so excited we couldn't sleep that night. My husband and daughter eagerly prepared for the surgery, their hearts filled with hope that she would soon see the light.
But I suddenly slammed my hand on the table and, amidst the family's stunned gazes, proposed a divorce on the spot.
My husband's face turned ashen as he demanded harshly, "You want a divorce just because I'm going through with our daughter's surgery?"
I curled the corner of my mouth and enunciated every word: "That's right. Because you're going through with her surgery—this marriage is over."

I am the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family.
After an unexpected rest, my opponent sent me a street racing invitation.
I went to my brother's company to retrieve my car, but was drugged with ether by my brother's secretary.
She told me that no one could seduce her man.
She kicked my stomach, threatened me with a paper cutter to make a vow, and said her future sister-in-law is the youngest Don of the Obsidian Family—if I dared to retaliate against her, I would die miserably.
I looked at her coldly.
Really?
But I haven't agreed to be your sister-in-law yet!

I suddenly awakened the ability to read minds. But I heard my fiancé, Joey Jones, mocking me in his mind: He had already arranged for an assassin to “send me off” at our wedding in the church. What was even more disgusting was that he promised I would become the Donna of the Jones family, but in his heart, he was fixated on his stepmother, Rory—his father’s widow, who was only a few years older than him.
With only three days left until the wedding, I no longer cried or begged for love. Instead, I contacted my first love, Nate, who was a police officer: “How about being the male lead at my wedding?”

On the third day of the outbreak, I sat in my company’s executive conference room, gripping the red toy car I bought for my six-year-old son.

Outside the door were zombies filling the building. Beside me were six executives still breathing only because I was.

They wanted meetings. They wanted to wait for rescue. They wanted to chain me with morality.

But I wanted one thing—my son was still in daycare. Three days. No one went for him.

At dawn, I opened the door they’d barricaded shut.

I can shoot. I can clear a path. I will carve my way through to bring him back.

Anyone who stands in my way dies.

In my previous life, I chose the werewolf and gave birth to the Arbiter, only to be burned alive by the younger sister I loved most.
When I was reborn, I knelt before the Oath Stone, handed my marriage pact to her, and watched her gloat in triumph before choosing Sylas, the elf everyone else avoided.
Everyone was waiting to see me make a fool of myself—until the day of the wedding, when he came carrying a gown blessed by the Sacred Tree, lowered his eyes to me, and said, "In this life, I will never fail you."

A gang boss ground my treasured staff into dust with one boot. “A gutter-bred bastard from the slums, and you’re hiding something this delicate? Cripple him. Let him learn who runs this turf.”
I stared at the silver-white powder on the floor. It was the last relic my brothers left me.
I once swore these hands would be used only to save people, never to kill again.
But today, even the heavens refused to allow it.
I lifted my head slowly. The elven ears I’d kept lowered in submission rose one by one in the dark, sharp as a wolf’s.
“You’re asking me who runs this turf?”
My fist snapped out and caved in the boss’s nose.
I twisted backhanded. Three elite enforcers had their bones shattered in an instant, collapsing like sacks of rotten meat.
I grabbed the boss by the throat with one hand and hoisted his two-hundred-pound body into the air, eyes cold as if I were staring at a corpse.
“Three years ago, when I laid down the rules in this district, you didn’t even know where you were playing in the mud.”
“My things are not for you to touch.”

For five years, my marriage was nothing but a lie, a perfect show Aiden staged for the entire family.
I loved him for more than a decade. And for his lover, he threw our five-year-old daughter, Chloe, into the basement to be fed to his Dobermans.
All because Chloe accidentally shattered an antique crystal cup, a so-called love token between Aiden and his precious Sophia.
I dropped to my knees and begged. He looked at me like I was nothing and said Family rules matter more than blood.
When I carried my daughter’s mutilated body out of that basement, fireworks were exploding on the rooftop above, celebrating his grand confession of love to Sophia.
He froze my accounts. And on the day of Chloe’s funeral, he took her to a concert.
I was holding my daughter’s ashes, trapped, desperate, with nowhere left to go when a message from an unknown number appeared. A car was waiting at the side gate. It was Daniel, my childhood friend.
Only after I disappeared with my daughter’s ashes did Aiden finally realize the truth—that the “sweet, innocent” Sophia was the real killer of his own child.

As the most cold-blooded and ruthless Mafia don, Twain Hall had doted on me like the apple of his eye for ten years.
But on the very day we were discussing our wedding, the ring his subordinate delivered had another woman's name engraved on it—not mine.
I pretended not to notice and turned to Twain.
"Did they bring the wrong ring? Who's Dorothy? I've never heard of her."
Twain's expression didn't change. He pulled me into his arms with that familiar, indulgent look.
"My people weren't careful. Made a fool of themselves."
"I'll have them exchange it right away. Can't keep my queen waiting."
I smiled. But the moment I turned away, my face went cold. I dialed a number.
"Didn't you say you'd pay any price to marry me? Twain Hall betrayed me. I want his head!"

I’m just a blind woman whose sight was stolen by the mist.

And yet, for his ambition to become the Alpha King, I begged my brother Mason to venture deep into the forest and bring back the Moon Goddess’s Mark.

On Christmas, I carried that Mark in one hand and my pregnancy report in the other, my heart practically bursting with joy.

Then I caught my husband tangled up with Rory—the Omega who stayed by my side every day.

What shattered me most was this: my son’s death was never a surgical accident.

It was Andrew who wanted to give the heart of my son, Ethan, to Rory, who was sick with heart disease. He lied and told me those papers were for Ethan’s treatment, and tricked me into signing my name.

He mocked me, saying a blind woman couldn’t survive without him. But he didn’t understand what a mother’s resolve looks like.

I called my ex-fiancé, the strongest Alpha—Henry—the man I betrayed, the man who still waited for me. He became my only salvation. The Moon Goddess’s Mark I never go

Everyone said I’d traded five years of my youth and my unwavering devotion for an engagement that every woman envied.
My fiancé, Felix Smith, seemed to believe it, too. He gave me pearls, promised me a bright future, and wrapped me up in a web of tenderness, layer after layer.
Until that afternoon, when he held me close, yet used a language he thought I didn’t understand to weave the perfect "wedding" con over the phone.
That was the moment I finally realized: over these five years, who had he really been looking at through me? And every pearl he ever gave me, whose tastes was he remembering?
When the elevator failed and darkness crashed down, the person he protected on instinct wasn’t me.
When the wind howled across the empty outskirts, the person he chose to abandon was me.
I’d been learning how to love him, how to become a proper bride. In the end, what I learned was how to exit quietly, out of his world with Serena.
Only when I slipped off that pearl ring did I understand—
Some love stories, from the very beginning, are nothing but long letters written to someone else.

"Jake? You sick fuck. Paid for this? His hands inside me?"

Sophia's voice cracked over the intercom, her oiled ass clenching around the masseur's pumping fingers. Live feed burned: her thighs quaking, pussy gushing slick down the table edge. I gripped the chair arms white-knuckled, cock straining—half rage, half blaze.

"Babe... yeah. Full service. Watch you cum harder," I rasped into the mic, voice raw. "Tell him—deeper or stop?"

Tech's eyes flicked to the camera, smirking as he curled two fingers inside her, thumb circling her clit. She bucked, moan ripping free. "Fuck... don't stop. Deeper—wreck me. Jake, you watching? Perverted cuck."

"Every thrust," I growled. "His fingers owning your tight pussy. Bigger rush than mine?"

Her head snapped up, doe eyes locking the hidden lens—pure fury melting to feral hunger. "Hell yes. Stretch me wider. Tell him flip me—fuck me raw while you beg."

Tech froze, glancing my way. My nod sealed it. "You heard her. Pound my girl. Make her scream your name."

He flipped her prone—tits spilling free, legs splayed wide. Cock out, thick and veined, he notched her dripping folds. "Ready to cum for a stranger, Sophia?"

"Do it," she hissed, hips grinding up. "Show Jake what he's missing."

He slammed home—her wail echoing both rooms. Relationship shattered. Door to real breeding? Kicked wide open.

My name is Jack Morris, a bottom-rung janitor on the docks.
Every day, people walk all over me, and I live on moldy bread.
Until one day, an old man I saved handed me a photograph. "This is my granddaughter. She's being held at the Black Swan Casino."
That used to be my place. Ten years ago.
Her father was a brother who died in my place.
I was once the king of the underground.
And now, at the banquet celebrating the tenth anniversary of my death, they're treating that old man's granddaughter like a toy.
If my disappearance only made those animals more brazen...
Then they can finish that drink and celebrate their own deaths next.

“Aren't you a hooker that anyone could on top of you with money?”
When they met, he became her guest in room...

An S-Rank [Thunder Tyrant]?

I watched coldly as the "good brother" who had betrayed me in my past life strutted around, stealing my woman and humiliating my F-Rank skill.

What he didn't know was that every time he channeled his lightning, his talent was draining his lifespan. In our past life, I was the one who used my skill, [Status Reset], to restore his life force time and time again.

Reborn for another lifetime, I decided I was done playing the saint.

When the crimson behemoth shattered the dome, Brad laughed maniacally, summoning a storm of lightning. But in an instant, the fierce backlash turned his arms into brittle charcoal, shattering in pieces across the ground. I stepped over his rolling, mutilated body and picked up a piece of rusty scrap metal.

"Reset."

The dead rust was eradicated. The scrap metal instantly reverted to a fully charged, high-frequency combat blade.

Gripping the blade in one hand, I faced the overwhelming tide of corpses and carved out a path of blood.

Exiled to the wasteland by wife and children? No problem, I'll open an arms factory there.
Everything stolen by a rival? No worries, his technology is garbage I discarded seven years ago.
My ex-wife throws me a repairman's business card and demands my knees? Fine, see you at the military academy ceremony tomorrow.
Her son, dressed in his rival's "super armor," goes around showing off, only to be exposed in public by my ten-year-old son: "With a 0.7-second delay, an S-class mutant could kill you three times."
My rival brings his private army to capture me?
My wife leads a regular army, smashing the dome and descending from the sky: "Try touching my husband!"
My rival, cornered, releases the Abyss Mother Beast?
I pilot Zero Mech, one-shotting her.
My ex-wife kneels in the ruins, crying. I don't even glance at her.
Betrayed me? You don't deserve it.

After Grandpa passed away, he left two inheritances behind.
One was an underground shelter costing over a hundred million yuan.
The other was a crumbling old house on the brink of collapse in the village.
My younger sister Su Rou rushed to pick the underground shelter first, so I settled for the old house.
No one expected an extreme cold apocalypse to descend just days later.
Su Rou moved into the shelter with her boyfriend.
But her boyfriend leaked the gate password, attracting a mob of thugs.
Su Rou was reduced to their plaything, trapped in a fate worse than death.
As for me, I discovered the old house’s cellar connected to a natural underground hot spring. I managed to survive by sheer luck.
When Su Rou heard the news, she was consumed by envy. She led the thugs straight to me, forcing me to take her place.
"Sister, you’ve always been the nicest to me since we were kids. You’ll save me, right? You take my place and serve them instead."
I could no longer endure the humiliation. I set fire to the place and died alongside them all.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the very moment we chose the inheritances.
Seeing Su Rou pick the run-down old house without the slightest hesitation, I knew she had also been reborn.
I bowed my head to hide all my emotions, then silently chose the underground shelter.
My dear sister… that drafty, ramshackle old house is nowhere near as wonderful as you think it is.

I came home early from a business trip and overheard the woman Joseph always called his “poor stepmother” clinging to him in his office, begging for a kiss. Her swollen belly carried his child.
“When do I get to stop pretending to be your stepmother?” Susan whined.
Joseph’s cold laugh stripped away the last of my dignity. “Soon. Once I drain Emma’s company dry, she’ll be useless.”
I used to think Joseph was my salvation.
After his father died and his pregnant stepmother had nowhere to go, I ignored my family’s objections and brought them both into my home. I poured every resource I had into helping him rise.
I even became pregnant with his child.
Only then did I realize I had never really been his wife.
I was only the stepping stone they used to climb into wealth.
That night, Susan staged a miscarriage.
And Joseph, his face twisted with rage, locked me—pregnant and bleeding—inside a freezing basement.
“A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve a child.”

I lay there, my face buried in the sticky remnants of my mother's tattered genitals, her exhausted body slumped against me like a conquered trophy. The room reeked of semen, feces, and sweat—our dorm buddies had long since left, laughing hysterically. Sophie's thighs trembled near my ear, her thick labia still twitching, spilling the group sex cocktail onto my lips. My heart raced, and I froze. She saw me watching that filthy show—her facade as an elite lawyer had crumbled, reduced to a slut who drank urine and licked asses for her roommates.

“Mmm…Ethan?” Her voice choked, her throat hoarse from the passion, her breath hot on my forehead. There was no anger—only a shameful desire. “Baby…you’ve tasted it all…through me. Lick deeper. Mommy needs her good boy now.”

Damn. The line is blurred. Should I grit my teeth and run? Or jump in and be the first to eat? Her hips rubbed against me, forcing my tongue inside. There was nowhere to escape. This was our new hell—heaven.

I’m a convenience store owner.

When the acid rain apocalypse hit, it ate through metal, wrecked power, and turned clean food and water into currency.

Last time, I made one mistake: I opened my door to my ex, Claire Voss, and her lover, Derek Hale. They didn’t come for shelter—they came for my stash. The blade in my abdomen taught me what mercy buys in a broken world. I killed them, but as my vision faded, the radio crackled with one final update: the disaster was ending.

Day thirty. I didn’t live to see morning.

Then I woke up—one week before it began.

This time I do only one thing: lock myself in my underground storage room with exactly thirty days of food and water, and wait for the rain to stop.

But Claire is hoarding again, louder than ever—embezzling money, emptying my shelves, trying to starve me in the first week so I’ll crawl back begging.

That’s when it hits me:

She thinks the apocalypse lasts forever.

She has no idea it only lasts thirty days.

When the apocalypse came, I became one of the military's failed experiments—defective, useless, a waste of space who only knew how to fix machines.
My so-called brother Kane used the camp leader access I got for him to trade away the comms gear I nearly died to secure for a bottle of whiskey. He drained my bone marrow dry to keep me in the dark, then dumped me out in the wasteland to die.
After that, he pinned every bit of luxury and waste on me—
while my little sister didn't even have the medicine she needed to stay alive.
That night, dragging my crippled body behind me, I reached into the substation.
Kane, do you remember what kind of genes were in those five hundred milliliters of bone marrow?

To annul the engagement, the aloof heiress of a wealthy family spent three years planning thirteen accidents to try and kill me.
Car accident, falling object, poisoning... I survived covered in blood, only to be met with her disgusted question: "How come you're still alive?"
She let her scheming childhood sweetheart crush my father's ashes, and even personally drained my last remaining blood to save me, all for her sweetheart's self-inflicted injury.
She thought I would be like a dog, clinging to her side forever without any boundaries.
Until that day, I calmly handed over the annulment agreement, clutching the diagnosis of late-stage brain cancer, and completely disappeared from her world.
Later, when she finally found out the truth, she searched the world frantically, only to find my emaciated, cold corpse.
That arrogant and haughty young lady has completely collapsed.
She personally sent her childhood sweetheart to hell, knelt before my body wearing a veil, and desperately raised a gun:
“Ivan, walk slowly on your way to the underworld... I’m giving my life for you.”

My boyfriend pulled off a drone-sky proposal that lit up the entire city.
Crowds cheered, “Congratulations to Mr. Gunson and Mrs. Gunson—at last, true lovers become family.”
But the woman curled in his arms was his secretary.
The “me” in their mouths had long since turned to white bones beneath a mound of earth.

In my past life, I squandered all my wealth to support my fiancée's family, but when the extreme heat of the apocalypse arrived, she and her lover broke my legs, brutally drained my marrow, and devoured me alive.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the seven days before the apocalypse.

This time, I will never repeat the same mistake.

I decisively kicked away these cold-blooded parasites, canceled all my credit cards, and, with the true love who died to save me in my past life, built an indestructible, top-tier temperature-controlled fortress.

As global temperatures soared, Los Angeles became a scorching inferno, and the fiancée's family couldn't even get a sip of dirty water, ultimately being forced to resort to cannibalism and killing each other.

And I, sitting in a 22-degree air-conditioned room eating chilled watermelon, coldly watch this bloody live broadcast of dogs fighting each other.

The fires of hell have been lit, and your judgment has only just begun.

There are too many ways of taking revenge on a woman. But he chose marriage. In the past three years, he acted like a ruthless husband, treating her coldly, and even more worse, humiliating her. Even when she was pregnant, he tried to force her to give it up, to retire from film field, to expel her from her country.

In my past life, when the apocalypse broke out, I braved the pressure and opened the fortress gates to take in my mother-in-law and brother-in-law, who had nowhere else to go.
They shoved my wife and me straight into a horde of zombies.
My wife and I were reborn seven days before the apocalypse. I turned my head and saw the same fear and coldness surging in her eyes as mine:
"This time, don't open the door."
"Never." I smiled coldly.
Not only would I keep the door shut—I would watch with my own eyes as those bloodsucking ingrates, who had drained me dry in my past life, were slowly devoured by hunger and despair right outside the gate.

At a lavish dinner, a billionaire with a net worth of four billion embraced my ex-wife and slapped five thousand yuan in my face: "Kneel down, kiss her shoes, and then get out of here."
The entire audience of celebrities burst into laughter, while the ex-wife's eyes were filled with the pleasure of revenge.
Without even lifting my eyelids, I dialed a number in front of everyone: "I'm going to bankrupt one person. Execution level: nuclear bomb."
They laughed at me for pretending to be crazy.
Three minutes later, the entire nation was in an uproar. Four billion dollars in assets were frozen, the FBI broke down the door, and the once arrogant tycoon collapsed to the ground like a dog.
I endured for three years, just to save her grandfather's life. Since she's in such a hurry to break the contract, I don't need to pretend anymore.
This is not just a story about divorce; it's a countdown to the gods regaining control of the Book of Life and Death on Earth.

Married for seven years, I lived my life like an absolute joke.
For the sake of my brother, my wife personally uprooted the roses I had so painstakingly cultivated. To please her uncle, my daughter pointed at my nose and called me a "bad daddy."
The entire family even held a vote to force me to donate my bone marrow. My wife, Elena, raised her hand without a second thought: "You'll just lose a little bone marrow. Liam will die without you."
In that moment, my heart died.
The surgery was a success.
As the anesthesia wore off, Elena was holding my hand tightly. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice trembled with remorse: "Aaron, I was a jerk before. As long as you were willing to save Liam, I will love only you for the rest of my life."
She thought I would be as pathetically grateful as a dog, begging for her affection and humbly forgiving her.
But I merely frowned in disgust and pulled my hand back as if shaking off garbage.
In the dead silence, I looked at this tearful woman before me and asked, politely yet confused:
"Excuse me, ma'am... who are you?"