Anna Solo's Books and Stories
Forsaken by the Pack, Fated to the Ancient Lord
For three years, I lay trapped in a vegetative state in a cold hospital room. But the moment my consciousness finally awakened, I heard my own father disconnecting my life support. He and my stepmother were suffocating me so they could sell my fresh corpse to the black market for a billion crystals. Three years ago, my fiancé Jacoby pierced my heart with nine silver needles, draining my life essence to save his mistress. Everyone called me a wolfless cripple, a genetic failure. Now, my father wanted to auction off my empty shell for a forbidden death ritual, just to buy my stepsister a diamond gown for her high-society debut. As I lay there pretending to flatline, they even laughed about how they brutally murdered my mother. "She refused to hand over her assets, so we let her drown in the freezing river." They had sawed through a bridge while she was out searching for a cure to the poison Jacoby had been secretly feeding me. They thought I was just a defective stepping stone, a broken toy to be used and discarded without consequence. They thought my mother's tragic death and my tortured soul would be buried under their new wealth forever. But they didn't know the ancient White Wolf bloodline in my marrow had spent these three years quietly knitting my shattered heart back together. As the heart monitor flatlined and my father smiled in greedy triumph, I slowly opened my eyes and crushed his hand beneath my heel.
The Day My Son Died, I Rejected My Alpha Husband
I sat in the sterile room holding my five-year-old son's cold hand, while cheers and popping champagne echoed from the VIP suite next door. My husband, the Alpha, was throwing a party to celebrate the miracle recovery of his mistress's son. But that miracle was bought with my son's life. I discovered the Pack Healer had deliberately removed the protective wards during the energy ritual, all on my husband's orders, to ensure the mistress's cub survived. When I confronted him, he didn't even glance at our dead child on the bed. Instead, he shielded his weeping mistress, demanding I get on my knees and apologize for scaring her. "The Pack needs a Luna who can fulfill her duties, not a useless, weeping wreck." He even forced me out into a deadly blizzard in a thin nightgown to care for her fake fever, leaving me to die in the snow when my old wounds flared up. I couldn't understand how the sacred mate-bond meant absolutely nothing to him. How could he blindly cherish the very people who murdered his own flesh and blood, while treating my years of sacrifice like garbage? Waking up in the hospital, my shattered heart finally turned to ash. In front of the entire Pack, I looked straight into his furious eyes and publicly rejected him as my mate. Then, I hired a devastatingly handsome Rogue, drafted the divorce papers, and prepared to burn his precious reputation to the ground.
