Left For Dead One Novels & Stories

The day after my Alpha mate's precious childhood sweetheart Sage accused me of sending rogue wolves to attack her, my mate Kael, along with our two sons, suspended my brother above a massive cauldron of boiling silver, threatening to throw him into the molten metal that would burn him alive. I went insane, rushing toward them, but the pack warriors held me back with iron grips. "Do you understand your mistake now?" Kael stood nearby in his perfectly tailored suit, his eyes cold as winter frost, his voice laced with ice. "Will you ever dare to hurt Sage again?" "I didn't attack her!" I cried, struggling against the warriors' hold. "Kael, let my brother go! He's only eighteen! He just got accepted to Harvard!" Five-year-old River crossed his small arms, his face emotionless. "The evidence is clear. Why are you still lying?" Four-year-old Stone nodded along, his tone innocent yet cruel. "Mommy, if you're so scared of Uncle dying, you shouldn't have attacked Aunt Sage. She's our precious one." My heart contracted violently. Sage was their precious one. Then what was I? What did I mean to them? I looked toward Kael, hoping he might spare my brother for the sake of our years as mates. But he only stared at me coldly, his gaze like he was looking at a complete stranger. I suddenly laughed, though tears streamed down my face. They thought it was just a dummy tied up there and they were just trying to scare me. They didn't realize that Sage had someone switch out that dummy. What's frying in the silver now is my dear little brother. In the boiling silver, my brother's body was already burned beyond recognition. But when I completely gave up and left, why did three men kneel down and beg me to come back?

The girl my family sponsored was a manipulative opportunist. She had my childhood friends wrapped around her finger. I helped her out of pity for her poor background, but she climbed her way up, slowly taking my place. She faked innocence in front of the brothers while sabotaging me behind my back. When they found out, they called me petty rather than blame her. I got fed up, married my college crush, and moved on. But they flew in overnight, begging for forgiveness.

Yvonne Sunderland married Zach Frank, who had been with her for ten years. In the second year of their marriage, Zach passed away due to a plane accident. But when Yvonne turned forty-three, she met her supposedly dead husband! Before she could even ask any questions, disaster struck. An avalanche suddenly struck. During the critical moment, Zach was buried under the snow in order to protect her and that woman. His final words were, “I’ve repaid you all of your favors with my life. If I can redo my life, I don’t want to marry you and would rather meet her first…” When she opened her eyes again, Yvonne found herself back to the first year she married Zach.

The day Dad’s hypnosis stopped working on Mom, she slit her wrists. I ran crying to find Dad. My brother just stood there laughing. "Sis is such a liar. That water's just red food coloring. She and Mom are putting on a show for you." Dad's face flipped from worried to furious. "How long are you going to keep this up?" "Vanessa's depression can't take any more stress. Are you trying to drive her to her grave?" "If you hadn't stolen her parents from her, if you hadn't drugged me and crawled into my bed pretending to be her, I never would have ended up with you." "Pull this act again and I'll throw you back to the slums!" My brother clapped his hands in delight. "Yes! I want Mom gone! I want Aunt Vanessa to be my new mommy!" Mom closed her eyes, all the life draining out of her body. I stood there, jaw clenched, watching Dad walk away with his arm around Vanessa Bennett. A cold, mechanical voice of my mother suddenly echoed in my mind: [Mission failed. Host will be terminated. Countdown: three days.] Dad wouldn’t even have the right to beg her on his knees anymore.

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

Tied to a chair, it scraped against the concrete as Victor struggled. "Damn it, lady, I’ll give you this—you’ve got balls that even some men lack." he smiled, blood dripping from his mouth. Celestina pulled back the slide, the metallic click echoing in the quiet room as a bullet locked into place, ready to fire. She Pressed the gun to his head, "Are those your last words?" she asked coldly. ....................... How do you find peace when you're married to chaos itself? You don't. You become chaos. What would you do if your husband who murdered you and slaughtered your family proposed marriage again, and didn't recognize you? For Aria D'Amore, the answer is simple: marry him again, and make him pay for every drop of blood. When Aria is forced into a peace-treaty marriage with her family's enemy, she believes the war is over. Instead, Dante Vallenis uses their wedding celebration to massacre every D'Amore, making her watch before ordering her execution. She survives, barely, and "dies" in the eyes of the world. Eight years later, she returns as Celestina Vale, the mysterious Mistress of The Graveyard, an underground network that controls the Italian mafia through secrets and assassinations. When she manipulates her way into marrying Dante again, he doesn't recognize the stranger he's obsessed with controlling. But as she systematically destroys his empire from within, she falls for his uncle, the one man who tried to save her that night, and the one man who harbors a secret that could shatter everything she's built. So what will it be, love or revenge?

My husband has a PhD in medicine. He's fair, just, and kind… until the day his true love kills someone in an accident. He uses all the medical knowledge he has to help her get off scot-free. He turns the corpse into preserved specimens and displays them in his lab. When he's dealing with the corpse, he sees that there's an embryo in the womb. He's always been calm and composed, but he can't stop his heart from racing at the sight. What he doesn't know is that the corpse is mine, and the embryo is his child…

Three months after my husband, Josiah Erikson, disappears in a skiing accident, I spot him in a bar. He's laughing freely with an arm slung casually around his "best friend", Monica Jones' shoulders. "Good thing you came up with the idea. I'd almost forgotten what freedom feels like." One after another, his buddies clink glasses with him and ask about when he plans to reappear. He looks down and thinks about it before saying, "In a week. I'll show up once she's gone completely crazy searching for me." Standing in the shadows, I watch him savor his freedom, then call my friend who works at the state vital records office.

My fiancé dumped me the moment he found out about my rare blood type. "That condition of yours? Yeah, it'd just drain my wallet." I was spiraling when Vincent showed up—like some knight in shining armor, pulling me out of the wreckage. He didn't care about my blood type. We barely dated before he proposed, and for a while, married life felt perfect. Until a year later, when I overheard him talking to a doctor. "Vincent, you already took 400 milliliters of Sophia's blood last month, and now you want another 200? Are you insane? Even if you love Emma, you can't just drain an innocent woman dry for her!" "A little more won't kill her. Stop overreacting." My head spun. My whole body went cold. That's when it hit me—our perfect marriage had been a lie from the start.

Althea Johnson did not walk blindly into darkness. Before the contracts, the demands of blood and legacy — Dominic Valtieri had loved her. It was fierce, dangerous, and real enough to make her believe she could stand beside a man the world feared. Behind his ruthless reputation, she had seen a man capable of choosing her. For a while, he did. Until the weight of his name consumed him. By the time they marry, Dominic is no longer the man who once held her like something precious. He is colder, controlled by a dynasty that demands an heir and sees love as weakness. Still, Althea clings to the ghost of what they once were, hoping the man she loved is still buried somewhere inside him. On their wedding night, that hope dies. There is no tenderness—only possession. No love—only purpose. She is not a wife to him, but a necessity. When she discovers she’s pregnant, the truth becomes unbearable. Dominic did not choose her again. He chose what she could give him. An heir. A legacy. A continuation of a name built on power and fear. To him, she is no longer the woman he loved. She became a vessel. But grief hardens into something far more dangerous than heartbreak. Because Althea remembers who he used to be — and that memory burns. If legacy has consumed Dominic Valtieri, then she will become the one thing his empire never accounted for: defiance. She will not allow her child to be raised as a pawn in a dynasty built on fear. She will not let love be twisted into ownership. And if she must burn his empire to the ground to set her child free— She will.