Diane Foxington Angry

For my birthday, I got a gift box. Inside was a dead silver fox. Its fur was peeled away. Dark, profane runes were carved into its flesh. My wolf cried out in agony, then shattered. I desperately reached for my Alpha, Darian, through our mate bond. “Darian… help me… My wolf… my heart…” His response was ice cold. “Maeve, stop being so dramatic. It’s just a prank. A Luna should be stronger than this. Amara has a fever. I’m with her.” He just cut the bond. He chose his childhood friend over me. Her mate had recently died, and she only had a low-grade fever. I was left to collapse in agony. I didn't get help until a pack beta found me and rushed me to the medical center. It took me three whole days to recover. When Darian finally came back, reeking of Amara’s sweet perfume, he sneered at me. "I knew you were faking it. How could a dead fox hurt you? You just wanted to stop me from comforting her!" I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just handed him a document to sign. Compensation, I said, for choosing Amara over me. He signed it without even looking. "Is this about money? Don't be another jealous she-wolf. Don't cause trouble for me. I can give you anything. Amara and I grew up together. She's important to me. You know that." I just nodded. I didn't say a word. The next day, he took Amara to an Alpha-only alliance dinner. Pictures were all over the werewolf social feeds. He had no idea what he’d signed. It wasn’t a compensation agreement. It was a rejection of our mate bond. I counted down the three days. I calmly packed my most precious things. Then, I pulled out my burner phone. “Uncle Marcus? I need a private jet to the South.”

❝I was given specific instructions to have you talk about your sister's murder and gauge your anger. If you do not do this, you will fail and you'll have to go back to the asylum and spend another six years,❞ She explained. 'Is that what you want?'❝You don't give a fuck about what I want, your getting a paycheck anyway.❞ I said, rolling my eyes. I knew what she wanted me to say, it was what they all wanted me to say. Indirectly at least.That I was a loose canon ready to explode. A sadistic, psychotic bitch with no feelings of remorse. A cold-blooded killer...Mrs Jones frowned, adjusting her glasses. ❝You're right, I'm getting paid for this. I have no problem failing you immediately because you're a murderer, a mons...???? ??????? ???? ? ???? ????????? ??????? ?????? ?????? ???????? ???? ?? ?????????? ?? ???? ???? ??? ?????? ????? ???????? ?? ? ??????? ??? ?????? ?????? ?????????? ??? ??????? ??????????, ?????, ??? ????? ?? ?? ?????? ??? ???. ???? ???, ?? ? ???? ????? ?? ????, ???? ??? ??? ? ?????? ??????????? ?? ???? ??? ?????? ???? ???????Warning: contains extreme violence, vulger, and gore.May cause triggers to some readers.

Two year ago, I was betrayed by the love of my life and I took the briefcase of money, a small consolation to his broken promise, offered to start a new life of my own. I restarted my life in a new city and I became a highly sought out private investigator in a successful company I co-founded. My painful past slams back into me with a way too tantalizing offer that can’t be refused and now I'm forced back to face the werewolf that threw me out of his life like a bag of trash to collect evidence to help solve a case close to his heart. Is it even possible to do my job without falling back in love with him and making the same mistake again? Or am I just a lost cause?

` It was a cool, breezy and stormy night. Rain came down in sheets, as a dark figure stood before a house. The house was pretty ordinary, white with blue shutters; it didn't have more than two bedrooms. It looked like a cozy little family home with flowers and shrubs lining the front lawn, and then the smell from the pellet stove smoke invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath and pulled out an old, rusted compass from his black trench coat. It looked like it could have been from the 14th century, the small, brass disc was dented and the Victorian designs were faded. He studied it as it pointed east, towards the small house. He looked the house over carefully, looking for the best entrance, before proceeding towards the side to gaze into the window. Inside you can see the small kitchen; the brand new, all black appliances off set the linoleum floor. Cabinets filled almost every wall of the small space that made it look more crowded than it should have been. The kitchen opened to a larger room which seemed to be used as a living room and a dining room all at once. The whole house looked crowded, with the furniture in the living room all touching except for a small gap to walk through and the dining room was so close to the sofa, it could have been sitting on it. He stepped back into the shadows as he watched a young couple enter the kitchen. The wife was tall and slender, had strawberry blond hair formed around her face accenting her jaw-line and her deep blue eyes stopped your heart as you got lost in them. Her fair complexion was silky and complimented her soft face.

Grace White, a weak werewolf with cowardly alpha blood that runs through her veins, is an obedient daughter that strives to stay out of her father’s way and pay her stepmom's hospital fees. Though living with an abusive father, Gracey always finds the time to stop and appreciate life and the joy of being alive. However, when her stepmom’s hospital fees begin to triple, her stresses begin to consume every ounce of joy she has left. Being a girl who lives a life grounded on morals, the thought of selling herself as a house maiden/servant, as her father suggested, to earn enough money, sounds absurd at first. Yet when there seems to be no other option, and her mom’s life hangs in the balance, she decides to sell herself in the largest and most esteemed auction that El Salvador hoists every year. Her mixed feelings towards the auction become subdued, as the moon Goddess gifts her the person she has always dreamt of having. But will he accept her, or hurt her much more than life itself? …but whatever he chooses to do, he needs to remember that: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Violet Sinkette has spent her whole life preparing to follow in her father’s footsteps—a warrior destined to defend the kingdom of Anoryl against its sworn enemy, Daryn. As the daughter of the legendary Commander Jerome Sinkette, she’s trained to fight, to hate, to win. But just as she’s ready to claim her place in Anoryl’s elite royal force, her world is set ablaze. Her mother is murdered. She is kidnapped. And the greatest betrayal of all? She’s not Anoryl’s hero—she’s Daryn’s stolen daughter. Everything she’s ever believed is a lie. Her parents were spies. Anoryl’s war isn’t about defense but destruction. And at the heart of it all lies the Frinx—an ancient power that Anoryl will do anything to steal. Now, Violet stands at a deadly crossroads: fight for the kingdom that raised her or embrace the truth of the land she was born to protect. But with the weight of betrayal crushing her and the Frinx threatening to consume her, one question remains… Will she choose vengeance, or will she rewrite her fate?