Bloody Castle: The Alpha's Contract Bride

They called him a useless drifter. A loser son-in-law. But when the Shadow Wolf Clan attacked, something woke up inside Kane. Golden eyes. Ancient power. The Wolf God they thought was dead.

I'm Kane. Wall Street CEO by day, alpha werewolf by night. The Grand Elder controls me with addictive potions. I thought I was broken. Then I met Erin, the intern who could calm the beast inside me.

They called me worthless. They rejected me at the altar. They left me to die in the snow. But when the silver moon rose, something ancient woke up inside me. Something they should have feared all along.

The old hunters started dying one by one. First the blacksmith. Then the schoolteacher. Then the mayor's father. The tracks in the snow were huge, wolf tracks, but no wolf on record is that big. The village said we needed a hunting party. I said we needed to ask what we'd done to deserve it.

Exiled to a ruthless werewolf academy for being a weak, pack-shaming Beta, Finn accidentally crosses three top-tier Alpha predators. The ultimate twist? All three are bound to him as his fated mates! Between the cold Chris, gentle Simon, and playful Neal... who is his true destiny?,

The moment she stepped onto the Moon Festival altar in white, the Wolf King’s death six years ago became unfinished business. The great hall of the wolf clan was alive with firelight and drums, silver goblets raised beneath ancestral banners, when Ella arrived in high heels—human, unarmed, smiling as if she had never driven a blade through a king’s heart and vanished into the dark. At the center of the feast, Monica the red-haired witch lifted her glass and named the crime aloud. The accusation echoed, but the throne remained silent. The Wolf King did not defend himself. He did not deny the past. He watched. Ella stood still, eyes calm, letting the room sharpen around her. She did not explain why she had returned. She did not bow. She only looked toward the child beside the throne—the little girl who had already whispered a forbidden word that night: Mother. The first gear turned. Before judgment could fall, the fire pit detonated. Flames roared up the marble pillars. The child fell screaming into the coals. Chaos tore through the hall. Elders shouted spells. Guards froze. And Ella moved. She ran straight into the fire. Bare hands clawed through burning embers. Skin blistered. Blood streaked the sacred ground. She pulled the child free and collapsed, cradling her like something worth dying for. When she looked up, her eyes did not plead with the crowd. They locked on the throne. That was when the Wolf King finally rose. Power surged. A towering shadow of the true wolf tore through the ceiling, his roar ripping the night apart. The hall knelt instinctively—too late to notice Monica’s smile tightening, too late to see the second layer of the trap closing. Because the child in Ella’s arms was never his. She was the price Ella paid six years ago. Flesh of her flesh, given to darkness so the Wolf King could live long enough to hate her. As the hall trembled and the king’s wrath filled the sky, the girl slowly opened one glowing red eye. No verdict was spoken. No mercy granted. Somewhere beneath the altar stones, a binding older than the clan itself began to stir—and whatever Ella had come to reclaim, it was no longer just a life. It was a curse already awake.