Apocalypse Rebirth: Seven Days to Hoard and Take Revenge
In my past life, the Cerberus strain leaked, turning the world into a blood-soaked hell of rotting flesh and mutated monsters.
I thought my boyfriend Declan and my best friend Hailee would have my back as we fled the quarantine zone.
Instead, when the surging crowd of the infected cornered us, they didn't hesitate.
They shoved me backward into the horde just to buy themselves three seconds to run.
As I fell into the mud, I saw them fleeing without a single backward glance.
"She's dead weight anyway!" Hailee screamed.
"Just keep running, she'll distract them!" Declan yelled back.
I was torn apart, feeling the agonizing tear of rotting teeth sinking into my neck and the hot spray of my own blood.
Before the apocalypse, my greedy uncle had locked away my ten-million-dollar trust fund, leaving me with nothing but a fake boyfriend who only wanted me for my money.
Until my last breath, I couldn't understand how the people I loved most could trade my life for a head start.
Why did I blindly trust them? Why didn't I see through their perfectly choreographed lies?
Opening my eyes again, the stench of decaying flesh vanished, replaced by the sterile smell of my college dorm room.
Hailee and Declan were standing over my bed, faking tears of concern over my meningitis fever.
I was back exactly seven days before the world ended, and my spatial vault ability had come back with me.
This time, I'm extorting my uncle for every cent, hoarding the city's supplies, and leaving them all to rot.
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Chapter 1
Cora's eyes snapped open.
Her chest heaved violently, sucking in air as if she had been drowning. Her lungs burned. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it felt like it might crack her sternum.
She threw her hands up over her face, bracing for the tearing of flesh, the hot spray of blood, the rotting teeth of the infected sinking into her neck.
Nothing happened.
There was no pain. Just a sharp, stinging pinch on the back of her left hand.
The heavy scent of bleach mixed with the sickeningly sweet smell of vanilla candles flooded her nose. It instantly shattered the bloody illusion of the apocalyptic ruins.
Her vision was blurred, a lingering side effect of the high fever. She blinked hard, forcing the double images to merge into the familiar, clean lines of her single dorm room at the university.
A muffled sob came from the chair next to her bed. The person crying was deliberately slowing their breathing, making the sound soft and pitiful.
Cora turned her head. Hailee sat there, dabbing at perfectly dry eyes with a tissue.
Declan stood right behind Hailee. He took a step forward and placed his hand on Hailee's shoulder. The movement was so natural, so fluid, it looked like they had practiced it a thousand times.
Cora's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
The memory of their faces-twisted in ugly survival instinct as they shoved her backward into the zombie horde-superimposed perfectly over the concerned expressions they wore right now.
A violent wave of nausea hit her stomach. The room spun. Cora bit down hard on the side of her tongue. The sharp pain and the metallic taste of blood grounded her, forcing her mind to stay sharp.
Hailee noticed her movement. She lunged at the bed, grabbing Cora's cold fingers with both hands.
"Oh my god, you're finally awake," Hailee said, her voice trembling with a practiced sweetness. "I thought this awful meningitis was going to take you away from us."
Cora looked down. Hailee was gripping her hand so tightly that her manicured nails were digging into Cora's skin, leaving angry red half-moons.
Declan moved to the other side of the bed. He leaned over, his voice a low, magnetic hum.
"Cora. Hey, baby."
Cora's fingers twitched. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to grab the heavy metal IV pole and smash it into his skull. Instead, she slowly lifted her head and stared at him with blank, exhausted eyes.
"Water," Cora rasped. Her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.
Declan immediately turned toward the water dispenser across the room. In the split second he turned his back, Cora caught it.
Declan and Hailee exchanged a look. It was fast, but it was there. Pure, unadulterated annoyance.
Cora shifted her gaze past them, locking onto the digital clock on her desk.
October 14. 2:00 PM.
The floodgates of her memory burst open. The Cerberus virus would leak from the underground lab in Manhattan in exactly seven days.
Declan walked back with a plastic cup of warm water. He reached out, trying to slide his hand behind Cora's neck to lift her head.
Cora flinched away, turning her head sharply.
"My neck is stiff," she lied, her voice completely flat. She reached out and took the cup from his hand.
The warm water slid down her throat, easing the physical ache, but doing nothing to put out the cold fire burning in her chest.
Hailee kept talking, rambling about how worried she had been, making sure to highlight how many hours she had spent sitting in that uncomfortable chair.
Cora set the cup on the bedside table. She pressed her fingers against her temples, rubbing them slowly.
"My head is killing me," Cora whispered, making her voice sound weaker than it was. "I need quiet. Please."
Hailee's mouth snapped shut. A flash of irritation crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with an understanding smile.
Declan reached out and tucked the blanket around Cora's shoulders.
"Get some rest," Declan said softly. "I'll bring you that chicken soup you love tonight."
They turned and walked toward the door together. As they faced away from the bed, Declan's fingers brushed against Hailee's palm. He hooked his pinky around hers for a fraction of a second.
Cora watched them through half-closed eyes. Her stomach twisted again, but this time, the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a cold smile.
The door clicked shut. The sound of their footsteps echoed down the hallway, moving faster, clearly relieved to be out of the room.
The second the sound faded, Cora threw the blanket off.
She calmly peeled off the medical tape securing the IV catheter, pulling the needle from her vein without a single ounce of hesitation. A small bead of dark blood welled up, and she casually grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, pressing it over the puncture wound. Her eyes remained completely devoid of emotion as the red stain bloomed against the white paper.
She stepped onto the freezing hardwood floor barefoot and walked straight to the full-length mirror.
The girl staring back at her was pale and sickly, but her eyes were different. They were the eyes of a wolf that had already died once.
The countdown had started.
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8.7
Explicit 18+ | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised
Dark themes, noncon/dubcon, extreme kink, power imbalance, group dynamics, knotting, overstimulation, and possessive claiming ahead.
A brutal omegaverse world. Warring packs. Rare silver-eyed omega Kai Voss lives hidden until a midnight raid destroys his safety.
The most feared triad captures him: Thorne Blackwood, a pierced sadist who pushes limits; Aurelius Voss, the volatile second, his knot pulsing with hunger; Cassian Reyes, the silent, amber-eyed observer whose fixation vows complete ownership. Dragged to their mountain den, Kai becomes their prize.
Defiant and sharp-tongued, Kai resists every command. His body betrays him with slick, aching need. On the first night, the alphas take him, one by one, then together. They stretch him past reason. Knot him impossibly. Fill him until his rim thins visibly. Slick eases the searing burn into shattering pleasure.
"Room for one more?" Thorne growls, forcing his pierced length beside the two already locked inside. He drags across sensitive spots until Kai arches, tears falling, his body yielding as omega instincts beg for more.
Three cocks locked and throbbing, owning him entirely.
"Fuck, he's taking us all," Aurelius groans.
Cassian watches silently, eyes blazing, plotting the next step to remake Kai forever.
Raw conquest becomes unbreakable obsession: relentless heats, punishments blending pain and ecstasy, jealous rivalries over cries, rare tenderness binding possession deeper.
Three ruthless alphas pursue the forbidden, shattering their defiant omega until he is stretched wide, ruined, reborn in their image. Relentless desire shows no mercy: tight entrances forced open, rimmed raw by impossible girths, slick-soaked and pulsing under unyielding ownership.
Hide and read in secret. Once the story begins, escape is impossible. Squirm. Ache. Hunger for every page.
DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU CAN'T STOP READING ALL 150 CHAPTERS ⚠️🔞‼️
7.2
Azura Briggs was just a broke college student working freezing valet shifts to pay her adoptive mother's crushing medical debt.
Her desperate life shattered the night a bulletproof Maybach violently cornered her in an alley, and a ruthless billionaire kidnapped her by mistake.
After a harrowing escape, Azura was forced to take a humiliating "plus-one" gig at a high-end gala just to survive. But her date turned out to be the billionaire's arrogant nephew, who promptly abandoned her to the wolves. Cornered by a sleazy executive and his psychotic wife, Azura was publicly slapped, her dress torn, and left bleeding on the floor while hundreds of elites watched in disgust.
Just as she prepared to fight to the death, the crowd violently parted. Hunter Mcintosh, the terrifying man who had kidnapped her days ago, dropped to his knees in the broken glass and wrapped his bespoke jacket around her trembling shoulders.
Azura was completely paralyzed. Why was the monster who threatened her life now destroying billionaires just to protect her?
But the illusion of safety didn't last. Trapped in his Maybach hours later, Hunter threw a draconian employment contract at her feet.
"Sign it, and her care is covered. Forever."
He knew exactly how to break her. He was offering to pay off her mother's debt, but only if she signed her life away to become his personal assistant. With no other way out, Azura picked up the heavy pen.
7.4
"You can't escape me, Aurora. You are mine!"
The Alpha King's roar echoed through the palace walls.
But Aurora just tightened her grip on the blade hidden beneath her cloak.
She would never-never-give herself to the monster who murdered her father.
Even if the Moon Goddess cursed her to be his mate.
***
Aurora Regalia once had everything-a loving father, a prosperous pack, and a future that glittered with promise. Her father, the king, even chose her a mate: Logan Charming. Powerful. Charismatic. Cursed.
She thought he was her destiny.
Then she watched him tear her father's head from his shoulders.
One night. One betrayal. Her entire family, slaughtered. Her pack, reduced to ashes.
Aurora jumped off a cliff that night-not to die, but to survive. To become something her enemies would never see coming.
An assassin. A ghost. A blade wrapped in silk.
For years, she trained in the shadows, fueled by one single purpose: revenge. Blood for blood. She would make Logan Charming suffer the way she had suffered. She would carve his heart out and feel nothing.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
The Moon Goddess looked down at her shattered daughter and laughed.
Because the man who destroyed her life?
The monster who wore her father's blood on his hands?
He was her fated mate.
Now Aurora stands at a crossroads she never asked for. Every instinct screams for vengeance. Every fiber of her being recoils at the bond pulling her toward him.
But Logan? He doesn't care about her hatred. He doesn't care about her blade.
"You can run, little mate," he whispers, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark. "But I will always find you."
And when he does?
He won't just cage her body.
He'll claim her soul.
7.8
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options.
That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear.
I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison.
"I needed a guarantee," he said flatly.
I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage?
I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up.
9.0
My ex-husband returned after a three-year bet, ready to reclaim me and the son he thought was his. He had no idea that I'd secretly aborted his child, divorced him, and remarried the day he left. His world was about to come crashing down.
His delusion turned deadly when he and his manipulative best friend, Haylee, kidnapped my son, Leo.
I found them at his family's mansion, with Leo suffocating from a severe allergic reaction to a dog they were forcing him to play with. Elliot physically restrained me, scolding me for overreacting while Haylee giggled as my son turned blue.
At the hospital, as Leo fought for his life, Elliot grabbed my arm, demanding to know who the man standing beside me was. He was convinced this was all a game to make him jealous.
That's when my real husband, billionaire Gregory Morton, stepped forward.
"Since when is this child yours, Elliot?"
8.9
My family's company went bankrupt, and my biological father was lying in the ICU, kept alive by machines that cost tens of thousands a day.
I thought it was just a tragic business failure, until I caught my mother in bed with my stepfather.
They had secretly transferred all our assets months ago, deliberately bankrupting the company and leaving my father to die.
To pay the hospital bills, my stepfather forced me to a private club, trying to sell me to a sleazy investor.
When I refused, he slapped me across the face, and my mother just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Be realistic, Jaelynn. A woman's body is a tool. Use it to get what you need."
Later, right before my father's emergency surgery, my stepfather signed a Do Not Resuscitate order and froze the medical accounts.
"If you don't get on your knees and spread your legs for him, I will tell the hospital to pull your father's plug."
Standing in the freezing rain, covered in mud and blood, I stared at the astronomical hospital bill in my hand.
My own family had plotted to murder my father and sell me to the highest bidder. The betrayal shattered every ounce of sanity I had left.
I didn't cry or beg them anymore.
Instead, I pulled out a water-stained, gold-embossed business card.
It belonged to Dolph Valentine, the most ruthless billionaire in New York and my ex-fiancé's uncle.
If they wanted to destroy my life, I was going to sell my soul to the biggest monster of them all and drag them straight to hell.