Anybody have a link of this
Five years of cold violence and a broken family... all because of his so-called "Fated Mate." 💔🥀 I died in despair, but the Moon Goddess gave me a second chance. 🌙✨ I’ve returned to three years ago, and the game has changed. I’m tearing up the marriage contract and seducing the man my rival loves most. 💋🔥 Chapter 1 Violet's POV: The smell of grease and fried chicken filled the air. It was heavy and cloying. But to me, it smelled better than the metallic tang of blood.
I sat in the corner of a McDonald’s near the university. My fingers gripped the edge of the plastic table. Outside, traffic moved in a steady stream. The world was loud and alive. It was completely indifferent to the hell I had just escaped.
My mind was still stuck in that rainy night. I could still hear the thunder. I could hear the roar of Alpha commands tearing through the air.
I spent ten years trying to warm Daemon Blackwood's heart. I played the perfect Luna. I loved him with everything I had. In return, he slaughtered my family for another woman.
Because I had refused to let him go for *her*, the Frost Pack declared war on my kin. My parents died defending a daughter who had been too blind to see the truth. I watched them fall, and then I died, unloved and replaced.
I looked down at my hands. They were trembling, but they were clean. There were no scars. The wasting sickness that killed me in my past life was gone.
I looked at the digital calendar on the wall. The date stared back at me.
It was three years ago.
I was back. And today was the fifth anniversary of the day Daemon Blackwood marked me.
A dry laugh escaped my throat. Fate had a twisted sense of humor. It dropped me right back into the middle of this farce of a marriage. But this time, I wasn't blind.
"Order number forty-two!"
A clear, happy voice cut through the noise. I looked up.
There she was. Celeste Morrison.
She wore a standard uniform and a visor over her honey-blonde hair. She looked fragile. She looked harmless. It was hard to believe this doe-eyed student was the reason for my family's destruction.
In my previous life, she was the catalyst. She was the "her" Daemon destroyed the world for.
Celeste walked toward my table with a tray. She smiled. It was a bright, sunny smile that reached her eyes.
"Here is your order, Luna," she said.
She set the tray down but didn't leave immediately. She hesitated, her fingers nervously touching her apron.
"I hope you don't mind," Celeste said softly. She reached into her pocket and placed a small, warm cardboard box on my tray. "I added a warm apple pie. It’s on me."
I froze. I looked up at her, confused. "Why?"
Celeste blushed slightly. She looked down at her shoes, then back at me with genuine concern. "You just looked... really sad staring out that window. Like you were carrying the weight of the world. My mom always says sweets help with a bad day."
Her eyes were so clear. So kind. There was no hidden agenda. She was just a girl trying to comfort a stranger.
The irony was suffocating. The girl who would inadvertently destroy my life was trying to cheer me up with a pie.
"Thank you," I said. My voice sounded rough.
"I hope your day gets better," she said cheerfully. She gave a little wave and bounced back to the counter.
I watched her go. She was light. She was pure. She was everything I wasn't anymore.
I took the bag. The heat of the food seeped through the paper. It felt real.
I left the restaurant and stepped into the humid afternoon usage. A black sedan waited for me at the curb. I slid into the back seat. The leather was cool and smelled of expensive polish.
"Luna," Leo, the driver, said. He looked at me in the rearview mirror. "The jeweler called. The obsidian cufflinks you ordered for tonight have been delivered to the manor."
Tonight. The celebration.
For five years, this date was the most important day of my year. I would spend all day preparing. I cooked meals that went cold. I dressed in silk gowns that went unseen. I did it all for a nod of acknowledgement from Daemon.
"I see," I said. I turned to look out the window.
Why had I done it? Why did I chase a man whose heart was cold stone? I was Violet Goldcrest. My wolf, Ember, was of Alpha blood. I had pride. Yet, I had made myself small to fit into Daemon’s life.
Perfection hadn't saved my parents. Love hadn't stopped the war.
The car drove up the private road toward the Blackwood Manor. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture. It was dark stone and glass. It was impressive, but it had no warmth.
I saw a massive black SUV parked near the fountain.
It was Daemon’s car. He was home. It was unexpected.
I walked into the living room. It was vast and cold, decorated in shades of gray.
Daemon Blackwood sat on the long leather sofa. A laptop balanced on his knees. He looked rigid and commanding.
He was beautiful. It was undeniable. He had dark hair that fell carelessly over his forehead. His features were sharp and aristocratic. His eyes were the color of blood. He radiated the power of a dominant Alpha.
He didn't look up. He never did.
I remembered our mating ceremony. He had looked at me like a business deal. *“This is a partnership, Violet,”* he had said. *“Do not expect me to share my soul.”*
I braced myself for the hate. I expected the urge to tear out his throat to overwhelm me. He was the man who would ruin everything.
But as I looked at him, the rage didn't come. Instead, I felt a strange, hollow silence. It wasn't forgiveness. It was relief.
I didn't want to destroy him. I didn't want revenge. I just wanted out.
I didn't answer him with my usual polite greeting.
I walked over to the armchair opposite him. I kicked off my red-soled heels. They tumbled onto the pristine floor. Then, I sank into the cushions.
I tore open the paper bag. The sound was loud in the quiet room.
Daemon stopped typing.
I pulled out a piece of fried chicken. The golden crumbs fell onto the expensive rug. I didn't care. I took a bite. The crunch echoed in the room.
Daemon finally looked up. His red eyes narrowed. He scanned me from my bare feet to the grease on my fingers. He looked confused and disgusted.
"You're eating that?" he asked. "Here?"
I swallowed. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"I felt like it," I said flatly. "So I did."
He stared at me. His brow furrowed. This wasn't the Violet he knew. The Violet he knew would be in the kitchen right now. She would be stressing over the anniversary dinner.
He closed his laptop with a snap. He leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Is this some kind of statement, Violet? If you're looking for attention, this is a pathetic way to get it."
I put the chicken back in the bag. I wiped my hands on a napkin. I looked at him.
I saw the arrogance. I saw the dismissal. He didn't see me as a partner. He saw me as furniture. Convenient. Silent.
"Daemon," I said. My voice was steady. It didn't tremble.
He raised an eyebrow. He looked bored.
"I want to dissolve the mating bond," I said. "I want a formal Rejection Ceremony."
The silence in the room was absolute. Daemon didn't move. He didn't look angry. He didn't look hurt. He just stared at me.
Then, he laughed.
It was a short, sharp sound. It was full of mockery. He shook his head. He looked at me with pity.
"A Rejection Ceremony?" he repeated. He said the words like they were a joke.
He picked up his laptop again. He dismissed me entirely.
"Violet, stop playing games. I have a territory merger to review. Go clean yourself up. You smell like grease."
Chapter 2 Violet's POV: "I am serious, Daemon," I said. My voice was calm. It cut through the silence. "Five years is enough. You will never love me. Let’s stop pretending. Let’s give each other a way out."
I looked at him. My heart beat fast. It wasn't fear. It was determination.
I knew the future. I knew the timeline. In two weeks, the University would hold its big celebration. Daemon would go there. He would meet Celeste Morrison. He would look into her innocent blue eyes, and my world would burn.
I couldn't let that happen.
If I left now, I wouldn't be his enemy. I would just be his ex-wife. My parents would live. The Wildfire Pack would survive.
Daemon stopped typing. He closed his laptop. The sound was loud like a gunshot.
He stood up slowly.
"A way out?" He sneered. He walked around the table. He towered over me. "You used the elders to pressure me. You begged for this alliance. Now you sit on the Luna’s throne. And you want to play hard to get?"
"This isn't a game," I said. I forced myself to look at his red eyes. "This marriage is empty. It means nothing."
He moved fast. In a blur, he was right in front of me.
He trapped me in the chair. His hands gripped the armrests. His scent filled my nose.
"Is that it?" His voice was a low growl. It vibrated in my chest. He looked me up and down. His eyes were insulting. "Are you lonely, Violet? Is your bed too cold? Are you acting out because you want a man to touch you?"
In five years, he had never touched me.
Bile rose in my throat.
"Don't," I snapped. I pushed him back and stood up. My hands shook with anger. "Don't try to humiliate me."
I took a step back. I created space between us.
"Think about it, Daemon. The Frost Pack is powerful. You don't need my family anymore. My value is gone. You need a true mate."
For a second, his mask slipped. The mockery vanished. He looked cold. He looked confused. He looked at me like a stranger.
Then, the walls came back up.
"Stop this nonsense," He turned around. He grabbed his car keys from the table. "I have real problems to fix."
He stormed out the front door.
Seconds later, I heard his engine roar.
***
The house was empty. I went upstairs.
I didn't go to the master bedroom. I went to the guest room. I had slept there for three years.
I took off the silk dress. Daemon hadn't even noticed it. It fell to the floor. It was just a pile of expensive cloth. It was a symbol of the perfect doll I tried to be.
I opened the closet. I dug to the back. I found an old, dusty duffel bag.
Inside were my old clothes. Black cargo pants. A plain white t-shirt. Heavy combat boots.
I put them on. It felt like armor. I felt the ghost of the girl I used to be. I was the Alpha’s daughter. I used to run wild in the forest. That girl was waking up.
I went down to the garage. It was huge. It was filled with Daemon’s luxury cars. Ferraris. Bentleys.
I walked past them. I went to the far corner. A heavy canvas tarp covered something in the shadows.
I pulled the cover off. Dust danced in the light.
My custom BMW S1000RR was there. It was glossy black. It had red stripes like claw marks. It looked fast. It looked dangerous. It was not a bike for a Luna.
I touched the fuel tank. The metal was cold.
I grabbed the handlebars. I tried to lift it off the kickstand.
My knees buckled.
The bike was heavy. Heavier than I remembered. My arms shook. My muscles were weak from years of stress and sadness. I gasped. I gritted my teeth. I barely kept the bike from falling on me.
*Weak,* I thought. I felt ashamed. *He made me weak.*
No. I let myself become weak.
"Ember," I whispered. I called to my wolf. "Help me."
Silence answered me.
Deep inside, there was nothing. No stir. No heat. Ember did not answer. She had been suppressed for too long. The weight of Daemon's Alpha command had choked her into a deep sleep.
I was on my own.
I gritted my teeth. Anger replaced the magic. I refused to be weak. Not tonight.
I groaned and pulled with everything I had. My muscles screamed. I used pure, stubborn rage. Slowly, inch by inch, the bike came up. I swung my leg over the seat. I turned the key.
***
The Brewpub was loud. It smelled of beer and shifter pheromones.
I found my friends in a booth at the back.
Sienna Walsh was dancing in her seat. Her dark curls bounced. Jade Rivers sat straight. She scanned the room like a soldier. She was the Gamma of my old pack. Lily Price was writing in a notebook. She had a glass of wine.
I walked to the table. I held my helmet. The conversation stopped. They stared at me like a ghost.
"Vi?" Jade asked. Her eyes went wide. "You... you actually came. You never come out."
"I'm here," I said. I slid into the booth next to Sienna. I ordered a whiskey. No ice.
"What happened?" Lily asked gently. She closed her notebook. "Is it Daemon? Did he forget the anniversary again?"
I took the glass. I drank half of it in one gulp. It burned. I slammed the glass on the table.
"I'm leaving him," I said. "I'm dissolving the bond."
For three seconds, it was silent. Then, they exploded.
Sienna screamed. She threw her arms in the air. "Finally! Oh my Goddess, finally!"
Jade whistled. She slapped me on the back. "About damn time, Violet. I was ready to fight him myself."
"Are you sure?" Lily asked. Her eyes were wet. "You loved him so much."
"I loved a fantasy," I said. The alcohol warmed my chest. "The fantasy is dead. I want my life back."
We drank. We laughed. For the first time in years, I felt light. I wasn't the disappointed wife. I wasn't the failing Luna. I was just Violet.
The night went on. The alcohol made my vision blurry.
Sienna leaned over the table. Her face was flushed. She pointed a finger toward the bar.
"Okay, single lady," she slurred. "Daemon has his fun. You should too. Look at him. Three o'clock. Delicious."
I squinted.
A tall young man stood near the bar. He had broad shoulders. He had messy brown hair. He wore a university hoodie. He looked young. He looked happy. He looked simple.
A crazy idea hit me. Why not? Daemon was going to fall for a student. Why shouldn't I find one too?
"Watch this," I muttered.
I slid out of the booth. The floor tilted a little. I corrected my balance.
I walked over to him. He was tall. I reached out. I put a hand on his shoulder.
He turned around.
He had kind gray eyes. He had a nice face. He looked like a good guy.
"Hey," I said. I tried to smile. "You look like you need company."
The boy blinked. He looked surprised. He blushed. He stepped back. He gently took my hand off his shoulder.
"Uh, sorry, miss," he said. His voice was polite. "I have a girlfriend. I'm just waiting for takeout."
The rejection was polite. It was decent. It almost made me laugh.
"Right," I mumbled. "My mistake. Sorry."
I turned to walk away. Suddenly, the room spun.
The whiskey hit me all at once. The room tilted.
My boot caught on a chair leg. I pitched forward.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I waited for the hard floor. But the pain never came.
Strong hands grabbed my arms. They pulled me up easily.
I blinked, trying to clear the fog in my brain. It had to be the student.
"Thanks," I slurred. I felt heavy. "I'm just... a little dizzy."
I forced my head up to look at him. I wanted to smile.
But the lights in the bar smeared. The shadows stretched out like claws.
The boy's face rippled like water. The kind smile vanished. The soft gray eyes darkened. They began to glow.
Crimson. Blood red.
The face sharpened. It became cold. It became cruel.
Was he really here? Or was the alcohol playing tricks on me?
Chapter 3 Violet's POV: The hallucination had a grip like iron. It wasn't the gentle, steadying hand of a college student; it was a vice that dug into the soft flesh of my upper arm, radiating a heat that was terrifyingly familiar. The scent hit me a second later—not the cheap deodorant of a boy, but the overwhelming, suffocating aroma of cedar wood, expensive leather, and the ozone crackle of a furious Alpha.
"Daemon?" I mumbled.
Before I could process the shift from freedom to captivity, I was being dragged. My feet stumbled over the pavement as he hauled me out of the bar's side exit, his stride long and angry.
"Let go!" I tried to wrench my arm free, my boots scraping uselessly against the asphalt. "You're ruining my night. The pup was waiting for me!"
Daemon didn't stop until we reached his black armored SUV. He yanked the rear door open and practically threw me inside. I landed on the leather seats with a bounce, my hair falling messily over my face. Before I could scramble up, the door slammed shut, and the locks engaged with a heavy, final thud.
I pushed myself up, pressing my face against the tinted glass as he slid into the driver's seat. The engine ignited with a roar. He peeled away from the curb, merging into the late-night traffic with aggressive precision. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, glowing with a crimson luminescence that cut through the shadowed interior.
"You are pathetic, Violet," he spat. "**Throwing yourself at a child? Robbing the cradle just to feel young again?**"
*What on earth is happening?* For five years, I had been invisible to him—a ghost haunting the halls of his manor. Why did he suddenly care where I went or who I was with?
"He was cute," I countered, letting my head loll to the side as I watched the city lights blur into streaks of neon. "And unlike you, he had manners. Besides, why do you care? Two days ago, the tabloids caught you swallowing that little she-wolf's face on the road."
"Don't change the subject," Daemon growled, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
"I'm not," I said, my voice gaining a sharper edge. "I'm proposing a solution. Since you won't give me the rejection I asked for, we can just modernize our arrangement. Open mating. You keep your revolving door of mistresses, and I find my own entertainment. It’s only fair."
Daemon laughed, but it was a dry, cruel sound devoid of humor.
"Open mating? Look at you, Violet. You're pale and weak. You think you can handle the rough play of a rogue or a stranger?" He paused, his gaze in the mirror turning venomous. "And I’d advise against letting random mutts between your legs. I don't want you catching some filth—HPV or worse—and rotting from the inside out. You are still the Luna of Frost Pack. Your womb is a political asset, even if I have no intention of using it. Don't spoil the merchandise."
"Don't worry, Daemon," I said, my voice dripping with sweet poison. "I have excellent taste. And since we haven't had sex in five years, you're perfectly safe from whatever 'filth' I might pick up. You should be more worried about your own hygiene, considering where your tongue has been."
The brakes locked. The SUV drifted sideways, tires screaming in protest against the tarmac, before coming to a jarring halt on the desolate shoulder of the highway.
Daemon unbuckled his seatbelt. He climbed over the center console with predatory grace, invading the back seat. The space suddenly felt microscopic. He loomed over me, his broad shoulders blocking out the streetlights, casting me in shadow.
"You think this is a game?" he whispered, crowding me into the corner. One of his large hands clamped onto my knee, squeezing hard enough to bruise, while the other tangled into the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing my head back.
"I think," I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs, "that if you can't stand me, you should perform the Rejection Ceremony."
"You don't get to dictate the terms," he snarled, his face inches from mine. "We are bound by blood and contract. You want to play the whore? Is that what this is? You're desperate for a touch, any touch?"
His hand slid higher up my thigh, rough and possessive. It wasn't an act of desire; it was an act of conquest. He was reminding me that physically, he could break me in half.
"Get off me," I hissed.
When he didn't stop, I reacted on instinct. I didn't try to push his chest—he was immovable rock. Instead, I coiled my body and drove my elbow upward, putting every ounce of my wolf's lingering strength into the blow. It connected with the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch.
Daemon recoiled, his hand flying to his face, a string of curses exploding from his lips.
"That," I panted, pressing myself flat against the door, "is sexual assault. If you continue, Daemon, it