When my adopted younger brother broke off his engagement, his fiancée was already unconscious from silver poisoning. I signed the caregiving contract in his place, agreeing to spend every night beside a woman who could tear my throat out at any moment. My name was Devon Morley, and my family had feared me since childhood. I'd always been able to see the spirits of dead werewolves and hear them speak. My parents believed a witch's prophecy that I'd destroy the entire pack, so they showered all their love on Kyle Morley, the boy they'd adopted. When Kyle became engaged to Beverly Sheridan, heir to the Black Pine Pack in the Northern Territories, he became the pride of our family. But just before their bonding ceremony, Beverly was attacked. The doctor said someone would have to use their body heat and scent to calm her raging inner wolf and help purge the silver from her system every day. If the treatment continued for eight months, she might regain consciousness. Kyle threw his ring to the floor outside her hospital room. "You expect me to strip down every day and hold a wolf that could go berserk at any moment? She nearly bit a guard's hand off two days ago! I'm not risking my life for a vegetable who's no use to anyone!" Just then, a translucent figure sat up on the bed. She stared coldly at Kyle through the doorway. 'What did I see in him anyway? If anyone is willing to stay with me for these eight months, he could have my private island estate off Sunshore and 5 million dollars.' My eyes lit up immediately. I had absolutely no interest in becoming the mate of a pack leader. But 5 million dollars? And an entire island? I bit my thumb and pressed my bloody fingerprint onto the bottom of the contract. "I'll take his place. Effective immediately."

Everyone in the family said my brother wouldn't live to see tomorrow, but my father, Vincent Pittman, locked me in the cellar before that could happen. My brother, Dylan Pittman, had been born with a heart condition. As his 18th birthday approached, he began showing the first signs of shifting. Dr. Marcus Lowell said his heart probably wouldn't survive it. My mother, Diana Pittman, set a countdown clock in the living room for his birthday. "We'll stay with him through his last birthday," she said. The fresh meat sent by the pack, the newest pair of snow boots in the store, even Mom and Dad's bedtime stories—everything was his and his alone. I felt terrible for him. I was also jealous of all the love he received. On the eve of his 18th birthday, after he'd finally made it that far, I came down with a high fever. Mom and Dad were afraid I'd cause trouble, so they locked me in the cellar anyway. I pounded on the door and cried, "Mom, let me out! I'm burning up, and my bones hurt. I think I might be shifting!" Mom gritted her teeth. "Enough, Gemma! Dylan is going to die tomorrow. Can't you endure it just a little longer?" "But I really do feel awful..." Their footsteps faded away. At last, I let go of the handle and stopped begging them to open the door.

My brother, Aldrich Carver, was the Alpha of the Black Pine Pack, and I, Erica Carver, was his only sister. Three of his highest-ranking wolves, Kane Wilder, Colbert Ford, and Abner Cross, had protected me since childhood. All three wanted me as their mate. They had even sworn before the Moon Goddess: "Anyone who wants to hurt you will have to step over our dead bodies first." I'd always believed I would marry one of them someday. Then an outsider she-wolf named Melissa Duncan arrived in Black Pine with her child. Kane abandoned me during a thunderstorm, knowing full well how terrified I was of thunder, just so he could walk her home. Colbert stopped coming to pick me up, too. All he cared about was finding Melissa. On the night of my 23rd birthday, I clung to Abner, the only one who was still willing to stay by my side. "Did I do something wrong?" He kissed my forehead. "You did nothing wrong. Sooner or later, they'll realize what they've lost." But before the party was even over, he placed the crown meant for me on Melissa's head. "Are you happier now?" he asked her gently. I blew out the last candle in my hand and went to knock on my brother's door. "In three days, the pack has to send someone north for a marriage alliance. Let me do it."

At the Moon Court auction, the bidding for my late mother's crown had reached $30 million. I, Kenna Winter, the long-lost heir to Silverpine, should have been the one bringing it home. Instead, I found myself bidding against my fiancé, Caden Yolland, and three men who had once sworn to protect me. With Selena Winter, my family's adopted daughter, nestled against his side, Caden raised his paddle again. "Her gown is a little plain tonight. A crown would be the perfect finishing touch. $35 million." Before the auction, he'd promised to bring my mother's heirloom home for me. Now he was buying it for Selena. Felix Merle stepped in front of me, blocking my view. "Kenna, stop bidding. Caden's made his choice." I tightened my grip on the paddle. My grandfather, Edmund Winter, had made it clear that he wouldn't name me heir to Silverpine unless I recovered the crown. But I couldn't afford to bid any higher. My father, Marcus Winter, held out his phone. He'd already entered the amount for a bank transfer. "Don't disgrace your mother." I glanced at the screen. He wanted me to use the relief fund set aside for our people living along the border. The elders were watching the auction live. The moment I authorized that transfer, Father could accuse me of embezzling relief funds and petition them to revoke my inheritance rights. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Sign it." I pushed the phone back toward him and lowered my paddle.

Five years ago, I took a knife for Ethan Blake and lost the ability to have children. At my bedside, he kissed my hand and swore he didn't need children as long as he had me. Five years later, he brought home a college student named Lily Carter, who looked remarkably like me, and said, "She's only here to have a baby for us. You'll always be my wife." Then she began wearing my nightgowns and my anniversary gifts. She even tried to take the pendant my mother had left me. When I refused, he pried open my fingers and shattered the last thing I had of her. "She's pregnant. Can't you just let her have it?" At last, I stopped fighting. I handed the divorce papers he had already signed to my lawyer and called my brother, Matt Ashford. "I'm coming home. You can stop funding his company—and stop sending them orders." Ethan had always believed that without him, I would have nothing. What he didn't know was that everything he took pride in had come from me.

I spent six years developing a cancer drug. The patent application named my husband's intern as the inventor. When I confronted my husband, Evan Mercer, he acted as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "Lily Vaughn is meeting with investors. How is she supposed to impress them if she has nothing to show for herself?" When I refused to give in, he removed me from my position in front of everyone and ordered me to work as her assistant. As I left his office, I saw a photo Lily had posted in the company group chat. She was sitting on the terrace of my home, holding my husband's hand. His wedding ring was gone. When I returned to the office, he even tried to force me to apologize to her. "Sign the statement, or we're getting divorced!" I pushed my resignation letter and divorce petition across the table. "I choose divorce." He told me to stop acting out of spite. I had already texted my father, Richard Hart. Claire: Put the next round of funding on hold. Later, Evan sent me an email with the subject line: Save me!

My name was Monica Carter. In the tenth year of my marriage to Daniel Carter, I discovered he was cheating on me. That night, we had just finished celebrating the 8th birthday of our son, Noah Carter. Daniel handed him a GoPro and gave his shoulder an affectionate pat. "You're 8 now, Noah. Starting today, you need to learn how to be a responsible man." I took a picture of them and posted it on Instagram. Monica: My two boys. At the time, I still believed that having a husband, a child, and three dance centers we had built together meant those ten years had been worth it. The very next day, he took a 23-year-old woman to a spa hotel in Desert Springs under the pretense of meeting a potential franchisee. He used the money we had earned together to book a suite for the two of them.

My name is Lina MacArthur. At 21, I married my father's closest friend, Dominic Addison. He was 8 years older than me and the Alpha of the Black Pine Pack, the most feared pack on the entire Northern Continent. Rumor painted him as cold and ruthless, a man who never spared a glance for any female. Yet with me, he was impossibly gentle. If I casually mentioned that a necklace was pretty, it would be waiting beside my pillow the next morning. When cramps left me doubled over, he would walk out of an executive meeting and rush home, kneeling beside the bed to massage my stomach with his warm palm. On countless intimate nights, he would press enthralled kisses to the mate mark on the back of my neck and call me his "little moon" in a husky voice. Even his private social media account was named "For Alice." I had always believed it commemorated the night we met, when 19-year-old me sat at the piano during a banquet and played "Für Elise" for him. Then one day, I found a yellowed photo album hidden in a secret compartment in his study. There was not a single picture of me inside. Every photograph, arranged neatly on the pages, showed the same woman. She had gray-green eyes, long chestnut hair, and features that looked startlingly similar to mine. In one picture, she sat at a piano, her eyes curved in laughter as she smiled radiantly at the camera. My fingers trembled as I turned to the first page. On the back, in handwriting I knew better than my own, were the words: For Alice Stilwell, my one and only little moon. The two-year marriage I had treasured was nothing but a beautiful fantasy he had constructed around a substitute for another woman. I closed the album, returned it to its hiding place, and decided to give him back both his wife and his Luna.

When my own mate nailed me to the gates of Silvermoon Castle, my parents' bodies were hanging above my head. Three winters earlier, the Alliance had held its selection for a new commander, and Dad had asked me to choose my future mate from among the candidates. I chose Hugo Hicks, my childhood sweetheart, and begged Dad to put the First Legion under his command. Hugo used to warm my hands on snowy nights and kiss my forehead in front of every pack in the Alliance. I thought that happiness would last forever. Then Mom fell gravely ill. Hugo opened the northern gate and let an army of rogue wolves into the city. He hung my parents' bodies from the gate for all to see. I sobbed and asked him why. He drove a silver blade into my chest. "If you hadn't picked me, Rita never would've been shipped off to be some old man's mistress. You owe her, Zoe." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the commander's selection. Hugo stood below the dais, waiting for me to call his name just as I had before. Instead, I pointed to the man beside the Speaker—the man every traitor in the North was terrified of. "Dad, I choose the Alpha of Blackridge, Victor Emerson."

On moving day, my brother got a suite. My sister got an indoor garden. I—Daphne Lambert, their daughter too—got the storage room. Mom said, "We won't bother issuing you a key card. We'll let you in." Later, I rushed home to retrieve the documents I needed for my scholarship review, only to find myself locked out. The deadline was 2:00 p.m. Mom had to take my sister to try on a gown, and Dad had to play golf with my brother. Neither of them would come back. I waited until 8:30 that night. When Dad finally saw me, all he said was, "Carry the things in the trunk inside." "Dad, I lost my scholarship." He didn't even break stride. I didn't call after him again. Once I had carried everything in, I returned to the storage room and pulled my suitcase out from under the bed. I decided I was done with this family.

My Alpha husband left me alone on an operating table as the emergency alarms blared, rushing off to save the female trainee who was supposedly being "forced into marriage." When I woke up, I decided to sever our lifelong mate bond. Three months after being diagnosed with liver cancer, I discovered that the only pinned contact on Hugo Gray's phone was a 23-year-old Omega named Renee Caldwell. I gave him a choice. "End our mate bond, or cut her off completely." He spent the entire night in his study. The next morning, red-eyed, he submitted a request to have her assigned to a different mentor while I watched. I believed him. Then, halfway through my surgery, he answered that girl's call. "Alpha, Dad is going to give me to a 50-year-old widower. I'm so scared. Will you come get me?" He pulled his hand from my grasp. I was trembling with pain, but I still called after him. "Hugo, if you walk out today, we're over." He paused for a moment. Then he turned and left anyway. That night, I decided to break our bond.

When the Moon Vow bells began to toll, my groom, Nestor O'Kane, was nowhere to be found. He was the Alpha of the Gray Ridge Pack in Silverpine Territory, the man I had loved for eight years. According to Gray Ridge tradition, tonight was supposed to be the night the pack recognized me, Kerrie Davar, as its Luna, with Nestor and me ruling side by side. Instead, I stood alone before the altar of the Moon Goddess. Then my mother posted a video in our family group chat. In the video, Nestor was kneeling in the reception hall next door, slipping my Moon Vow ring onto the finger of my twin sister, Stacie Davar. Our relatives cheered. My father watched with an approving smile. Stacie wept against Nestor's shoulder as he whispered words of comfort to her, as though she'd been the bride all along. I tore off my veil and was about to storm over and demand an explanation when my mother tagged me in the chat. Mom: Kerrie, Stacie is your sister. Her wolf spirit has been weak since she was little, and she's always given in to you. Can't you let her have this one thing? My hands trembling, I called her. "Why did all of you keep this from me?" "Because you've been competing with Stacie since you were children. If we'd told you beforehand, you would've made a scene. What if she'd cut herself again? "Your wolf is strong. You can always have another wedding later. We're family, Kerrie. Don't make a scene over a man." I gripped my phone, too stunned to speak. So it wasn't just my wedding they could give away without a second thought. They could cast me aside just as easily. If that was how they felt, I was done with all of them.

When my mate, Edgar Webster, sent his seventh pregnant mistress to me and ordered me to deliver his pup myself, his Betas started placing bets in the hallway. They were betting on how long their Luna would cry this time. But even when the newborn's cries rang through the delivery room, I didn't shed a single tear. "That's the seventh one, Alpha. Aren't you afraid she'll sever the mate bond?" Edgar shrugged it off with a laugh. "She can't give me a healthy pup, and the Blackthorn Pack needs an heir. Sooner or later, I was going to have to find another woman to bear one. The sooner she gets used to it, the better." I stepped out just then with the baby in my arms. "A male pup, 7 pounds, 6 ounces. Mother and baby are both doing well." He took the child, clearly pleased, then handed me the papers to dissolve our mate bond. "Sign them. Catherine Rowe says she won't have a second pup for me unless I make things official with her first. Once she has another, you'll have eight children." The previous six times, I had played my part in his staged breakups. This time, I signed just as quickly. Edgar had forgotten that the doctors had never said I was infertile. They had said my wolf blood was incompatible with his. With a different mate, I could still have children of my own. 'Why should I raise the pups of seven other women just to keep him?'

As midnight struck on New Year's Eve, I sat in front of a dinner gone cold, staring at my chat with my mate, Dylan Kingsley. His last message had come four hours earlier. Dylan: The council meeting is over. I'm heading home now to help you get New Year's dinner ready. By midnight, candle wax had dripped all over the table. Dylan still wasn't home. Eight years as mates. Eight New Year's Eves. Not once had my Alpha made it home to me before midnight. Then a photo appeared in the Kingsley family group chat. Dylan: I picked Sabrina up. Don't worry, everyone. Sabrina: Don't wait up. Dylan and I are watching the fireworks by the river. In the photo, Sabrina Warren had her face buried in his scarf, Rivermoor's midnight fireworks blazing behind them. I'd never understood why she was still in our family group even if she wasn't Dylan's mate. Or why, every year, he flew halfway around the world to ring in the New Year with her. This year, Sabrina had suddenly decided to return to Northwood. And once again, Dylan had abandoned the dinner he'd promised to share with me. I left the family group, reheated the food, and finished dinner alone. It was my last New Year's Eve with the Pinecrest Pack. On January 2nd, I would leave for my new position in Glenhaven. From then on, there would be no place for me in Dylan's future.

The day I burned to death, my Alpha husband, Darren Rowe, was in the Coral Isles with our son and daughter, celebrating his first love's birthday. When I opened my eyes again, I was 27. My son, Milo Rowe, was 6, and my daughter, Ruby Rowe, was 4. I was Vera Rowe, Luna of the Blackridge Pack. Darren controlled the largest werewolf conglomerate on the continent, and every she-wolf envied me for being his Luna. The moment I realized I was back, I took the agreement to dissolve our marriage and mate bond to Sabrina Lennox. "Darren is yours. He can have the children too. Get him to sign this. Once the 30-day notice period is over, I'll leave." Sabrina's hand froze around her coffee cup. "Vera, do you know how many women would kill to have your place?" "I do. Now it's yours." She stared at me for a long time before finally taking the agreement. "Once I get something, I never give it back." "You won't have to." I didn't want any of it anymore.

Conrad Voss and I had broken up six times, and every time, it was because of Yvette Halden. To bankroll the reckless spending of the former Alpha's daughter, he secretly entered illegal obstacle races and gambled his life on courses lined with silver blades. Whenever I tried to call off our engagement, he'd drag his battered body to my door, eyes red-rimmed as he swore it would be the last time. Each time, I smelled the blood on him and opened the door. Today was supposed to be the day we made our mate vows before the Moon Goddess and set a wedding date. In a white dress, I sat with my parents in the Black Pine Pack's banquet hall. We waited from noon until the candles burned out. Conrad never came. At 10 p.m., his teammate Neil Carrow called. "Daphne, Conrad fell off a cliff during the race. A silver arrowhead went into his chest. The doctors are trying to save him. You need to..." I cut him off, "Was it for Yvette again?" Neil went quiet for a moment. "She wanted tonight's grand prize. A moonstone crown." There was a rush of footsteps over the line, followed by Yvette calling Conrad's name through tears. I lowered my eyes to the dinner gone cold in front of me. This time, I didn't shake. I didn't get up. "I'm not going. Tell him the engagement is over. If he gets hurt again, no one needs to call me."

When I got off work at the pack clinic late that night, Grayhaven was being pounded by a torrential downpour. Standing beneath the awning, I texted my boyfriend, who was stationed all the way over in Alderreach. Vera: It's pouring. I forgot my umbrella and the last shuttle already left. It took Dylan Thorne more than 10 minutes to reply. Dylan: Are you blaming me for not picking you up? You think I'm going to drive 10 hours just to bring you an umbrella? Dylan: Vera, stop being so helpless. I stared at my phone, unable to bring myself to type another word. The rideshare I'd ordered canceled on me at that exact moment. A second later, a photo from Delia Marlowe appeared on my social feed, only to be deleted almost immediately. When she reposted it, the entryway had been cropped out, leaving only a tall man's back in the kitchen. Delia's post: Thanks to a certain someone for driving across state lines to pick me up. My new suede boots didn't get a single drop of rain on them. I zoomed in on the photo. I had personally stitched up the silver-blade wound that left the scar on the man's wrist. The cookbook lying open in front of him was one I'd spent several sleepless nights writing, filling it with recipes tailored to his lingering injury and stomach trouble. By the time I reached my apartment, soaked to the skin, Dylan had sent another message. Dylan: Why aren't you saying anything? Did you make it home?

When Derek Ashford came to pick me up from the Moonbond Bonding Registry, he slid our mate license back across the oak counter. "Lydia, this license was never validated. That bonding ceremony last year? It was a joke." Before I could reach for it, he opened another silver case. Beneath the Moon Goddess's scarlet seal, his name and Daphne Sinclair's stood side by side. "Last night she climbed into my lap and kissed me. She insisted on being the real Luna. She knows how to work me, so I said yes." My throat closed. This was the second time this man had betrayed me. "Why?" "Because you're gullible." He took out a tissue and held it up, waiting for me to cry. "Last time we hid it from you for three years. This time we bet on how long it would take you to notice." His eyes flicked to the bite mark on my neck, and he smiled. "She bet on a year. I left her perfume on my jacket on purpose. I even brought one of her earrings home. But you never asked me about any of it. I could barely keep a straight face, and you still thought we'd made up. Today's the one-year mark." He tucked the real license back into his coat, his tone as casual as ever. "I wanted her to win, so I had to tell you myself."

At 16 weeks pregnant, I felt my baby move for the first time. My mate, Gavin Bronte, said he had to inspect the northern territory and couldn't come to my prenatal appointment. Yet at the hospital, I found him walking his first love, Adela Nell, down the hall, bending close to ask if she was still in pain. The nurse told me she'd just had a D&C, and that he had stayed with her all morning. Clutching my checkup paperwork, I watched him help her into a private recovery room. My name was still written on the door. "Gavin, that's the room my doctor set aside for me." Adela clung to his sleeve and started to get up, her eyes watery. He immediately pressed her back onto the couch, then turned and blocked my way. "She just lost her baby. Do you really have to fight her over a room right now?" Gold flared in his eyes, and a warning growl rumbled in his throat. Instinctively, I covered my belly and stopped outside the door. On the day we exchanged our vows, he had stood in front of me just like this and promised to protect me and our child. He had broken that promise. So I decided to take back everything I had given him.

When Ronan Ashford brought Phoebe Carver, the student he sponsored, into the dressing room at our engagement party, I was fastening the last pearl button on my gown. "Phoebe spilled wine on her dress. Let her wear yours for now." My hands went still. But he only said, "Everyone in the Blackpine Pack knows you're the Luna I've chosen. Does it really matter which dress you wear?" Rachel Moore stepped in front of me. "Daphne went to 30 stores all over Ravenport before she found this engagement gown!" Ronan frowned at me. I undid the pearl buttons. "Take it." He kissed my forehead. "When we formally complete the mating bond in June, I'll buy you a better one." Phoebe stepped out after changing and caught her heel on the hem. Ronan immediately crouched down, gathered the train into his hands, and smiled up at her. "It looks perfect on you." During our engagement photo shoot the week before, the photographer had asked him to straighten my train. He hadn't even bent down. "That would look too staged. There's no need." I lowered my head and slowly slipped the moonstone ring off my finger.

My name was Camille Benson. Daisy Keats was one of the scholarship students my fiancé, Vincent Kingsley, put through school. When silver poisoning reached her father's heart, Vincent had his guards drag me into the operating room. "You're the best pack doctor in the North, aren't you? Daisy has no one left but him. You have to save him." "The silver has already spread. Even surgery can't guarantee he'll survive." For the first time, Vincent begged me. "Camille, do this for me. Please, just try one more time." After 8 hours, I pulled the man back from the brink of death. But the next day, he died in the ICU. Sobbing, Daisy threw a cup of scalding coffee in my face. "You hate me. Fine. But why did you have to kill my father?" That night, Vincent dragged me into the manor's silver cell and ordered his men to sever the tendons in my wrists. "If those hands can't save anyone, what good are they?" Days later, Daisy was poisoned. He came down to the basement again and ground his boot into my bandaged hand. "She just lost her father. Why can't you leave her alone?" When the silver hammer came down, I stopped trying to explain. He pulled off the matching moonstone band he'd worn since our engagement. "Stay down here and think about whether you deserve to be my mate." A month later, he finally remembered I existed. "Go see if she's ready to admit she was wrong," he told a guard. "Let her out and make her apologize to Daisy." What he didn't know was that I had died in that basement seven days earlier.

On the day we took our graduation photos, my boyfriend, Dylan Ashford, took more than 200 pictures of Ruby Rutherford—first in her human form, then in her wolf form. At the edge of Blackpine Forest, he knelt on the damp grass and waited patiently for sunlight to break through the treetops and illuminate her snow-white fur. Ruby shifted back into human form, draped his jacket around her shoulders, and laughed. "Still taking pictures? Your girlfriend's been waiting forever." "There's no rush. You look good from every angle. Let me take a few more." When it was my turn, he pressed the shutter twice. My eyes were closed in one photo. In the other, one gray wolf ear was still poking through my hair. "Could you take a few more?" Dylan glanced at his camera. "Nina, your coat is mottled to begin with, and you freeze up in front of the camera. How much difference will a few more make?" When I stayed rooted to the spot, he simply opened the academy forum and made a post. Dylan Ashford: $20 for someone to take my girlfriend's graduation photos. They just need to be passable. Someone accepted the job 30 minutes later. I sent him my location, then added another message. Nina: I'm a gray wolf. I might not be easy to photograph. Milo Hughes: What's wrong with being a gray wolf? You can still look beautiful in pictures. That evening, he sent me the unedited shots. In one, a girl stood beside the creek, her brown hair tousled by the wind and her eyes a clear, luminous amber. The next photo showed me in wolf form. Droplets clung to the tips of my gray fur. I was so beautiful I barely recognized myself. It turned out I wasn't nearly as ugly as Dylan said I was. And the man he'd hired for $20 seemed to be a better photographer than the president of the Photography Club.

Before the World Werewolf Cross-Country Championship began, my fiancé, Gareth Ashbourne, blocked the camp exit. He led the Blackpine Pack, and everyone called him Alpha. "Selena, Lily Hart will be our lead racer today. You'll clear the course for her and let her take the title." I froze, staring at him in disbelief. This was my last race before our mating ceremony. One more victory, and I would become the first woman in the event's history to win 6 championships. He knew that. Six years ago, the Blackpine Pack had lost its hunting grounds and barely had enough meat to survive the winter. I had kept the entire pack alive by winning race after race—claiming new territory, prize money, and food—and had carried Blackpine into the world's top three. "No." I held back my anger and met his eyes. "I'm fighting for this title myself. Why should I give up my chance to win just to turn around and clear the way for her?" Gareth frowned. "Lily needs to prove herself. You've already won 5 championships. What difference does one more make?" When I refused to move, his face darkened. "The council of elders decided that Lily would be our lead racer. Are you defying the entire pack?" I looked at the people gathered around the fire. The coach, the doctor, even the assistant who had once searched for food with me in a blizzard—none of them spoke. Some avoided my gaze out of guilt. Most simply stared at me, waiting with blank faces for me to give in like I always had. I suddenly let out a cold laugh. "Or what? You'll banish me from the pack?" Gareth didn't deny it. Disappointment smothered my anger. I removed my Blackpine badge, pulled off my engagement ring, and placed both on the wooden table in front of him. "Then that's that. I don't want this pack anymore—or you."

An hour into the coming-of-age banquet for my daughter, Nina Clemens, her father's seat was still empty. Every call I made was declined. Even through the mates' mind-link, the only response I got was, "On my way." My daughter rose once more to look toward the door. When no one came, she sat back down, clutching her speech in her fist. She had rehearsed it over and over, but now she couldn't bring herself to say the words, "I'd like to thank my parents." I got up to look for Vincent Clemens and found him in the banquet hall next door. He was standing beside his widowed first love, Renee Holloway, straightening her son's ceremonial suit. Dylan Holloway, who had scored only 42 on his graduation assessment at the werewolf academy, raised his glass. "Thank you, Mom and Dad, for being here to celebrate my coming of age." Vincent put an arm around Renee's shoulders and smiled as though the words belonged to him. Meanwhile, our daughter had ranked first among the students of every werewolf academy in the North. I stood outside the door for a moment, then turned and went back. "You don't have to wait anymore, sweetheart." I smoothed out the pages Nina had crumpled in her hands. "If you don't want to mention your father, then don't. It's all right. And about the thing you discussed with me last month—my answer is yes."

My name was Layla Sinclair. For 10 years, another woman, Daphne Marlowe, had shared my body. I couldn't awaken my wolf. Daphne, on the other hand, could shift beneath the moon and bound into everyone's arms with a laugh. So every time our souls swapped places, which happened every 15 days, my parents hoped she'd stay awake a little longer and I'd disappear a little sooner. Only Ryan Ashford, my childhood sweetheart, seemed different. The future Alpha of the Black Pine Pack had once knelt before me and pressed his forehead to the back of my hand. "Layla, I know your soul. You are the only Luna I will ever have." But the night before our engagement party, I woke up earlier than I should have. He was bent over me, kissing my collarbone. "Daph, 15 days isn't long enough. I wish you were the one next to me every morning." I shoved him away and retched over the side of the bed as my tears dripped onto the carpet. So he was just like the rest of them. Good. I had already found a way to let Daphne stay forever.

The day my pregnancy ended, a girl stopped me on a street in Rainport and handed me a questionnaire. Question: If the Moon Goddess gave you the chance to go back in time, which day would you choose? I wrote my name at the top—Iris Calder—and filled in my answer. Answer: The day of the pileup at Greycrest Pass three years ago. I would stop the healer from saving my life. The girl stared at me, wide-eyed. "Only nine people survived that accident. Why wouldn't you want to be saved?" I pressed a hand to my chest and looked up at the enormous screen mounted on the side of the mall. Cornell Hicks, Alpha of the Black Ridge Pack, had just bought a $10 million sapphire ring for a student at Rainport Academy of the Arts. Everyone was saying she'd become the most cherished Luna of all. No one knew that the pup I was carrying was Cornell's too. "Because I was never the one who was supposed to survive." Three years ago, the healer had mistaken me for someone else and transplanted the wolf heart of Cornell's sister into my chest. That heart had kept me alive for three years. And Cornell had spent every one of those years punishing me for having it. Now I was going to give it back.

When hunters broke into Black Pine Territory, I took a silver arrow meant for my fiancé, Gareth Black, while he was saving a pup. Silver poison seeped into my shoulder. My wolf curled up in agony, unable to shift. Gareth was the Alpha of Black Pine Territory. As his fiancée, I, Debby Weaver, was also the deputy guard commander. He had promised that we would complete our mating ceremony at the next full moon. But he gave the only antidote to his first love, Georgia Cross, who had crossed the boundary without permission and whose wrist had only been grazed by silver wire. "Georgia isn't as strong as you. She won't make it." He held my bloodied hand and swore he would find more antidotes before the poison fully took hold. The next day, he really did bring back another vial. I had barely rolled up my sleeve when Georgia leaned against him and grabbed his arm. "Gareth, my head hurts so much. What if the poison from yesterday hasn't worn off?" He stopped the healer and took the vial from him. I grabbed his hand and pulled open my collar. The arrow wound had already turned black. I could barely hear my inner wolf whimpering anymore. "Gareth, my wolf can't hold on." He looked at the wound, then handed the vial to Georgia anyway. "You're my fiancée, but you're also the deputy guard commander. I can't let the pack think their Alpha only cares about his mate." Then he helped her sit down and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. I lowered my hand and watched his back as he walked away. Fine. He'd find out soon enough how long he could remain Alpha without me.

In my third year as Luna of the White Pine Pack, I accidentally spilled coffee all over the mate contract on my nightstand. I took it to the Werewolf Alliance Registry Office in Northpoint to get a replacement, only to be told something I never could have imagined. "Miss Bentley, there's no record of you ever registering a mate contract." "That's impossible! Alpha Vincent came here with me and signed it himself three years ago." The clerk pulled up the registry records and turned the screen toward me. "Vincent Langley does have a registered mate. But his legal mate, and the officially recognized Luna of the White Pine Pack, is Daphne Ward." Everyone knew Vincent and I had grown up together. He'd fought for me, spent an entire night setting off fireworks just for me, and proposed beneath a full moon. As for Daphne? She was nothing more than a stand-in he'd found during the two years I was away studying in Belleford. He'd just missed me that much.

The day I miscarried and nearly bled to death, my parents raced through a downpour to the pack hospital. On the way, their car collided with an out-of-control logging truck. Still lying on the operating table, I signed the consent form for my mother's emergency surgery with a blood-smeared hand. I lost my pup. I lost my parents too. My mate, Areo Black, had ignored all 83 of my calls. Yet somehow, he'd found time to post a photo on social media. Areo: After a long night, our baby is finally a mom! In the photo, he had his arm around his childhood sweetheart, Daphne Walsh, with a litter of newborn puppies nestled in front of them. I liked the post. Less than ten seconds later, a message from him popped up. Areo: Unlike my post! I sent him my location at the hospital. Renee: Come here. There's something I need to tell you in person. Areo: I'm busy with something important. Have your parents take you to your prenatal appointment. It's not like they have jobs to go to. Renee: And that important thing is helping her dog give birth to a litter of puppies? Areo: Renee, are you seriously jealous of a dog? Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you get to make a scene. Watching blood creep backward into the IV tubing connected to the back of my hand, I then closed the chat. If he wouldn't come to see me, he could deal with my lawyer instead.

Devon Cross left me at the altar on our wedding day. My name is Celine Walker. His ex-girlfriend, Renee Vaughn, had returned to Black Pine Pack. Five years earlier, when he was close to losing his ability to shift, she had walked out on him. In my Luna gown at the Moon Goddess's altar, I grabbed his sleeve. "At least wait until the ceremony is over. Please?" He looked at the mate mark on my neck, then pried my fingers loose. "Celine, I need to see Renee. I need to know why she left me back then." He walked down the aisle strewn with white roses without looking back. My father, Daniel Walker, rose to follow him, clutched his chest, and collapsed beside the guests. I gathered my skirt and dropped to my knees beside him. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Three hours later, I was outside the ER when two texts came in. Renee: This is the third time, Celine. Whenever I come back, he chooses me. Devon: Give me 30 days. Until then, don't try to control me just because you're my mate. After 30 days, I'll hold another wedding for you. After that, it'll only be you. I stared at my phone until the screen blurred. No. I wasn't going to wait for him to choose me again.

At my best friend's birthday party, I drank a glass of champagne laced with wolfsbane and passed out on the spot. When I woke, the pack doctor was warning my fiancé, Simon Blackwood, that wolfsbane didn't just suppress a wolf—it could also cause memory loss and confusion. Intending to tease him, I blinked and asked, "Who am I? And who are you?" To my surprise, Simon let go of my hand and summoned Lyndon Blackwood—his cousin, the Alpha of the Blackpine Pack, and the man who wanted to absorb my family's ancestral land into pack territory. Pointing at Lyndon, he told me, "Your name is Freda Ingersoll. He's your fiancé, Lyndon Blackwood. The two of you are getting married soon." I froze, thinking he was joking too. Then my best friend looped her arm through Simon's and rested her cheek against his shoulder. She was wearing my perfume and occupying the place I had just left vacant.

On the day my fiancé, Alex Moran, proposed to me, his mistress, Vivian Moran, sent me a video of them kissing. His friends raised their glasses and cheered while his mother personally fastened a necklace around the other woman's neck. "Vivian, you're the only Mrs. Moran we'll ever accept." After watching the video, I called a number in Valdoria I hadn't dialed in five years. "Father, lend me a livestream crew." "Fine. Once the wedding is over, you'll come home and inherit the Vitale family."

For 10 years, I loved Lucas Hale. I put on a wedding dress for him seven times. As Alpha of the Blackpine Pack, he had never missed a council meeting—yet he missed our wedding again and again. The last time, his childhood sweetheart nicked her finger. He rushed her to a private clinic in Grayhaven, leaving me alone to face our guests. "Ivy, Chloe faints at the sight of blood. I have to stay with her. We'll hold the wedding next week." This time, I didn't agree. The wedding went ahead as planned—with a different groom.

I went out to get my brother's crush's number for him. 3 drinks later, I had the number—and somehow ended up in a stranger's bed. When I woke up, my black lace lingerie was still draped over the man's shoulder. My brother, Ethan Bennett, called. "Did you get the number?" I was about to answer when his arm tightened around my waist and hauled me back into his embrace. "Ethan, maybe... you should find someone else to like?"

After my fiancé regained his memory, he abandoned me—the woman who had spent 2 years helping him recover—and asked me to be a bridesmaid at his wedding to his old flame. I agreed. I also enrolled in an experimental treatment designed to erase memories. On his wedding day, I forgot him completely. Later, he fell to his knees and begged me to come back. I tightened my hold on my fiancé's arm. "Sir, you've mistaken me for someone else."

I chased Noah for five years, and he wouldn't even accept a box of chocolates from me. After losing touch for two years, I found him in a lounge, watching another woman slip a tip into his shirt pocket. He accepted it and thanked her under his breath. I paid $700 for his exclusive company that night. He only said, "You don't have to help me like this." My hand stalled as I reached for him, but I asked anyway, "Then could you kiss me?"

The new transfer student, Chloe Parker, claimed she was bound to a dating system. She needed my childhood friend, Noah Carter, to help her complete one inappropriate task after another. If he refused, she said the system would punish her. I warned Noah that Chloe was using him. He only glared at me. "She'll be punished if she fails. Why are you so selfish, Emma Bennett?" I stopped trying to convince him. Then a teacher discovered the sex toy Chloe had brought to class, and Noah pointed straight at me. "It's hers." I became the laughingstock of the entire school. Several boys eventually dragged me into an alley, and I didn't survive that winter. When I opened my eyes again, the toy was rolling past the toe of my shoe.

I'm Emma Reed, and Lucas Hayes—the man I'd secretly loved for ten years—fell for my roommate, Sophia Carter, in the middle of a video call with me. The next day, Lucas asked me to set them up on a date. "Emma, I've never liked anyone this much. Help me." His voice was low and gentle, but there wasn't much pleading in it. Because he knew I couldn't say no to him.

The day our two children died in a car crash, my husband slept with his secretary seven times in a hotel room. Six years later, I had long since remarried, yet he tried to force me to come home and raise his secretary's son. Then his secretary laid a hand on my child. I slapped her across the face and called my husband, Noah Whitmore. My ex still had no idea that the investor he had been begging to meet was my husband. "Someone here says he has the right to discipline your wife." "Don't let him leave. I'm here."

The nurse said my husband could only respond to the woman he truly loved, so she asked me to help him provide a sample. Still in pain from the procedure, I pushed the door open—and found him masturbating to a photo of my sister, moaning her name. I canceled the treatment and handed him divorce papers. He was too busy comforting my sister to read them. He signed without a second glance. Later, he begged me to come home. But the billionaire my sister had always dreamed of marrying took my hand. "She's my wife now."

The dentist I had a crush on, Evan Reed, told me to save his number. The moment I unlocked my phone, he saw the steamy novel I had been secretly reading. I wanted to leave the planet on the spot. I thought I had blown any chance I might have had with him. Then somehow, I ended up moving into his house.

I pretended to be a wealthy heiress and went on a date with a man who drove a Vespera. Then he fell in love with my stories, and I fell in love with him. What he didn't know was that even the name I'd given him was borrowed.

I crossed over into the Underworld and returned with a $10 billion inheritance for my husband, Julian Blackwood. For his adopted sister, Serena Blackwood, he destroyed my only way home and had my soul ripped apart. When I was given a second chance at the past, I let Serena make the journey instead. He thought he had finally saved the woman he loved. He had no idea she was too terrified to even go near the river of the dead. Later, Julian dropped to the ground and begged me to go down one more time. I smiled and pulled my skirt free from his hands. "You destroyed my way home with your own hands. And now you want me to find your money for you? Not a chance."

After the bullying started, I endured it in silence, afraid my grandfather's heart condition couldn't handle the stress. But they still showed him the video they had taken to humiliate me. Grandpa was rushed into intensive care, and they kept laughing. After everything I'd been through, I still hadn't been able to protect him. Why should they get to live as though nothing had happened? The people who hurt me—and everyone who helped them—I would make sure they all paid for what they had done. Your good days are over.

The three commemorative bottles I had set aside for our daughter were taken by my husband, Owen Bennett, for his assistant Nicole Dawson's birthday. The wine was worth $680,000. It sat beside Nicole's birthday cake, and even the wooden cases engraved with my daughter's name became props for her photos. She posted them on Instagram with the caption: Owen's surprise for me. Everyone says the wine is amazing. My husband replied beneath it: Owen: [If you're happy, it was worth it.] I took a screenshot and posted it in the company group chat. Audrey: Can't afford a birthday present for your assistant, so you steal from your own daughter? Later, I slapped the divorce papers down in front of him and cut off my family's funding to his company. He asked me, "You're divorcing me over a few bottles of wine?" I looked him in the eye. "Yes."

My name was Nora Hartwell. The day my wealthy biological parents came to take me home, I brought along a notebook filled with every worst-case scenario I could think of. Entry One: The fake heiress, Vivian Hartwell, would deliberately hurt herself, then accuse me of pushing her. Entry Two: Something valuable she "lost" would turn up in my bag. My mother, Caroline Hartwell, read it, then pulled me into a tight hug, tears filling her eyes. "Sweetheart, you've been through so much all these years. You have me now. No one is ever going to treat you like that again." I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, hoping I would never need any of my plans. Two days later, the fake heiress fell down the stone steps right in front of me, then sobbed that I had pushed her. I pulled up the security footage. But my father, Richard Hartwell, scooped her into his arms and snapped at me, "Is proving you didn't do it really more important than making sure she's okay?" That was when I understood. They didn't need proof. They'd already decided who they were going to protect. Later, a stolen diamond brooch really did appear in my bag. This time, I didn't beg my parents to believe me. I called the police in front of everyone.

At midnight, I was digging through the trash behind my apartment when my ex-boyfriend, Noah Reed, pulled up beside me in a Lamborghini. I hadn't seen him in 4 years. He tossed me two empty water bottles. "So this is what life is like after marrying a rich man?" Clutching the silver ring I had just found, I told him, "I dropped the diamond ring my husband gave me. 3 carats." His expression immediately hardened. Later, the entire internet condemned me as greedy and shameless. With everything I owned packed into a suitcase, I had nowhere to go in a Halston rainstorm. But he knelt in the floodwater and opened a ring box. "This one is 5 carats. Ivy, give me one more chance. Please."

I'd spent 32 years in a child-free marriage. Then, on the night my husband, Grant Whitmore, retired, he told me he had a son and a daughter. He'd had them all along. "Ivy, you couldn't have children, and I gave up half my life for you. Now I want to enjoy having my son and daughter around. Don't keep dragging me down." Grant rushed me to sign the divorce papers so he could move his mistress, Celeste Bennett, and their two children, Luke and Lily Bennett, into the home we had shared for 30 years. I almost laughed. Because all those years ago, I wasn't the one diagnosed with fertility problems. He was.

On the day Gavin and I were supposed to register our marriage, my fiancé, Gavin Mercer, had security throw me out of City Hall. Then he took his childhood sweetheart by the hand and walked inside. He looked at me without a trace of guilt. "Valerie's child needs a father, and she needs to be covered by my family health insurance. Once Valerie and I divorce, I'll marry you." I had loved him for seven years. Everyone assumed that this time, just like all the times before, I would obediently wait for him. But that very night, I accepted the overseas marriage my family had arranged for me. I flew to Kingswell and disappeared from Gavin's life completely. Three years later, I accompanied my husband back to Grayport to visit his adoptive father's grave. When something urgent came up, he asked the local branch of his company to send someone to pick me up. I never expected the man waiting for me to be Gavin, whom I hadn't seen in three years. "You've made your point long enough. It's time you came back. Valerie's daughter is starting preschool. From now on, you can handle drop-off and pickup."

It was the Fourth of July, and my husband—who ran a law firm in Boston—suddenly had an "urgent business trip." Just like that, he couldn't make our vacation after all. That same afternoon, his intern posted a video on Instagram. There was Ethan, a man who barely wasted three words on anyone in a courtroom, standing hands on hips, trading insults over a chain-link fence with a pack of women outside a trailer park. The caption: It really is different when your husband's a lawyer. About time somebody gave them a taste of what they put me through. I laughed, hit like, and left a comment. Claire: [Not bad. Guess those sky-high billable hours pay for something after all.] The whole firm lost it. Screenshots everywhere. People were half-seriously running a pool on which divorce attorney I'd hire. A second later, Ethan called. Still breathing hard. "Claire, what the hell are you doing in the comments? How is Lily supposed to show her face at the office after this?" "Those women trash-talk her every single day. What's wrong with me having her back? Oh, right—a spoiled little rich girl like you, coddled your whole life, wouldn't know the first thing about what girls from nothing have to put up with." He threw it at me like a slap. "Delete it. I'll take you somewhere at Thanksgiving instead." Thanksgiving? I laughed, cold, and hung up. In three days, the divorce decree the court had already handed down would be final. He could save the trip for his poor girl.

My name is Amelia Hart. For seven years, I pulled all-nighters handling cases for my husband's law firm—and brought in eighty percent of its revenue. Then my husband, Ethan Reed, slapped me over Chloe Bennett—the girl whose education he had funded. He forced me out of our marriage with nothing and let Chloe steal the credit for my work—and the $5 million case I had landed from the wealthiest woman in America. Smiling, I handed Chloe the client's number. What neither Chloe nor Ethan knew was that the wealthiest woman in America, Victoria Sterling, was my mother.

My granddaughter got beaten so badly by the school bully she ended up in emergency surgery. Then the bully's father slid me a check to say she'd tripped and fallen on her own. When the school and the cops both closed ranks around him, I took the medals my son and daughter-in-law had left behind and went looking for a man who'd served with them. He found me a lawyer—then walked me right into the rich man's charity gala. And just as they were about to hand him Philanthropist of the Year, I laid the settlement out in front of the whole room. "Hold that trophy a second. Let everybody here decide for themselves—is this fifty grand charity, or is it hush money?"

For seven years, my husband pretended to be poor—only to spend $198,000 on a piano for the daughter of his first love. I took our daughter and left. Seven years later, she was a piano prodigy. He tracked us down with a piano in tow and begged through his tears for her to call him Dad. She refused the gift. "I can buy my own piano now, Dad. I don't want yours anymore."