634 Book(s) Related to don t be harden

Three months. That’s all I have left.
For years, I was nothing more than his invisible wife—cleaning up his messes, enduring his coldness, watching him love someone else.
Now I want freedom, not him.
But suddenly, he’s holding on… remembering my favorite meals, guarding me like I’m his last treasure, whispering for me to stay.
Too late. My heart has been shattered beyond repair.
And with the clock running out, love might not be enough to save me.

I was declared dead in a car accident—while my husband was desperately trying to save the woman he truly loved.
Five years later, I return with top medical skills and two adorable children. Now, the world knows me as the renowned “Dr. Green.”
With red-rimmed eyes, Charles Windsor corners me and chokes out, “Diana, our children… are they still alive?”

Five years of marriage, and he never once looked at me with love. He called me a gold digger. He forced me to take birth control. And on our last night together, he moaned another woman's name in my ear.
I left with nothing but my dignity—and a secret I didn't even know I was carrying.
Six years later, I'm back. Not as the doormat wife he discarded, but as an award-winning scientist with a five-year-old son and a powerful family behind me. He's still engaged to his precious first love. And neither of them knows that the little boy calling me "Mommy" has his eyes.
He wants me back. He says he regrets everything.
But regret doesn't undo the past. And this time, I'm playing by my own rules.

That night, I thought I was just doing the decent thing—getting a drugged man back to his room.
The moment the door shut, the air turned white-hot. He caught my wrist and pinned me against the door, his breath scorching, his voice rough and fraying at the edges. “Don’t go.”
I should’ve walked away. Instead, his trembling fingers and the kiss that felt like a plea knocked every thought out of my head.
Fabric slipped, heartbeats slammed, sheets twisted into a mess. In the dark, I heard my own breath come undone—and I heard him call for me again and again, unable to say my name.
By morning, he remembered nothing.
He hadn’t seen my face, couldn’t trace who I was. But I knew exactly who he was—and how dangerous he’d be once he sobered up.
So I buried that night in silence, played stranger, didn’t let my eyes linger.
Because I knew—if he ever caught me, I wouldn’t get away.

“I Lucas Gray, Alpha of the Dark moon pack, denounce you Sophia Roman as a member of this pack!”


Sophia was denounced by her pack for shifting four years later than she was supposed too. Sophia thought that it was the end of her life, not knowing it was the beginning of a great adventure.

Two days after Sophia became a rogue, she was attacked by older rogues but was saved by the members of The Sky Blue pack. Sophia was later taken to the Alphas and realized that she is mated to both Alphas. She ran away, thinking they will reject her after all she was just an omega and a rogue. But to her surprise, they didn’t only accept but promise to take revenge on her old pack for what they did to her……

'Get ready Onika DeLuca , I am coming,' he said to himself, determination shining in his orbs, holding a dark promise.


"I promise you, the face I remember before dying will be yours, the last thing I will wish to see will be you, whether it is today, tomorrow or fifty years from now.It will always be you, Onika".


-Agustin DeLuca.


Agustin DeLuca looked at the photos in front of him, rage burning through his veins, as he watched his wife in someone else's arms.


He was one of the most renowned businessman of the country, know for his ruthlessnes and arrogance. He prided himself for being good at reading people like an open book, he thought nothing goes unseen from his scrutinizing eyes, yet the irony, he couldn't see the truth of his own wife when inoccence was written all over her face, vulnerability swirling in her doe eyes, silently begging for him to believe her.

He lost everything that mattered to him two years back, because he chose to trust the wrong person, but now that he knows the truth, there is nothing he won't do to get her back, nothing.

WARNING: This collection contains explicit content, taboo relationships, power dynamics, betrayal, and situations that will leave you breathless. Not recommended for readers under 18—or for reading in public unless you're ready to blush.
My infertile sister drugged her husband and set us up in bed together. She needed me to carry her baby for ten weeks—then hand it over like a library book.
I smiled, wiped his cum from my lip, and licked it clean.
"Fine," I said. But I'm keeping everything.
Inside these pages, you'll find:
A twin's ultimate betrayal—and the revenge that tastes sweeter than surrender.
A classroom that becomes a confession booth, where a student's wandering fingers catch her professor's eye, and erotica turns into a very private office lesson.
A nanny who drugs the mayor's wife, rides his fat cock while she sleeps beside them, and makes him cum on both their faces.
A plumber who fixes more than pipes, turning a leaky shower into a soaking‑wet, wall‑slamming encounter she'll feel tomorrow.
This isn't your average romance collection. This is dark, dirty, and dangerously addictive, a binge‑worthy anthology of taboo desires where every boundary is meant to be shattered, and revenge tastes sweeter than surrender.

Her hands slid up to his chest, palms flat, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt. The fear didn’t vanish completely. But it quieted. Receded into the background. Logan’s thumb brushed her cheek, slow and grounding, as his other hand settled at her waist.

The kiss grew warmer. Slower. Logan felt it too, sharp and electric. His wolf stirred restlessly, recognizing something it shouldn’t, something it wanted to claim even as his mind warned him to stop. He broke the kiss first, breathing hard, forehead resting against hers.

“Emily,” he murmured, strained. “We should—” She didn’t let him finish. Her lips brushed his jaw, tentative, almost questioning. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t send me away.”


After being betrayed forty-eight times by her mate, Oscar, Emily is drugged and offered to powerful wolves for his gain. Desperate and fleeing danger, she collapses into the arms of Lucas Walker, one of seven feared Alpha Brothers who rule the strongest pack. Drawn to her by an unstoppable pull, the brothers vow to protect her. But Emily’s past hides a darker secret, one that fate has bound to all of them.

Ruth is a beautiful she-wolf who has had premonitory dreams all her life about an ancient vampire curse that would come to her lands and destroy everyone unless she married a man with the blood of a famous painter, Vincent Van Gogh. But the painter has died without leaving any descendants.

One night, Ruth dreams about the angel Ashtar, and Ashtar reveals to her in her dreams and performs spiritual healings to free her from being tormented by her premonitions.

Ashtar finally tells her that she is ready to meet the Angel Ashtar in this life. He gives her an unknown address, where she must leave all fears behind and dance with the wolves under the moon, and among those wolves, she will find the reincarnated soul of Vincent Van Gogh. With this union, they will be able to destroy the curse when the vampires invade.

Ruth uses her wealth to make a positive impact on the world. She is the daughter of the Alpha King, a beautiful and rich princess. One day, Ruth takes a path through the forest, connected with nature and practicing her spirituality, she has a dream, she dreams of the angel Ashtar. However, her practices are suddenly interrupted when she is kidnapped by a mysterious Alpha werewolf, Leon, who needs to receive a reward for kidnapping the princess. What Ruth doesn't expect is to end up falling in love with her kidnapper. Your relationship will grow based on trust and the certainty of your connection with the Universe. Until the Angel Ashtar comes to earth and tells Ruth which path she should take.

Alpha Adonis finally found his mate after waiting for seven years. Alpha Adonis is beyond happy except there are two problems;
His mate Alex is the son of the Hunter lord terrorizing Alpha Adonis’ pack.
Secondly; An Alpha with a human Mate is seen as weak and unacceptable. As much as Alpha Adonis wish to reject Alex as his mate, he can’t because he promised his mother on her dying bed that he will only be mated to his destined mate.
Alpha Adonis have no choice than to fight the hunters and also convince the werewolf council to accept Alex as his mate. Will Alpha Adonis be able to accomplish all this or will it be the cause of his downfall? Find out more as you read…

“An Omega,” the first Alpha said, his deep voice laced with authority. He took a step forward, and Kai instinctively backed away.

“No,” Kai whispered, shaking his head. His voice wavered, betraying his fear. “I-I don’t belong to anyone.”

The wild-looking Alpha snorted, crossing his arms. “You’re in neutral territory, little Omega. That’s a bold move for someone unclaimed. Did you really think no one would notice?”

Kai swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” the third Alpha interrupted, his voice smooth and soothing. He tilted his head, studying Kai intently. “But you can’t deny it, can you? You feel it, just like we do.”

“Feel what?” Kai asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The first Alpha stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Kai’s. “The bond.”

Kai’s heart pounded in his chest. The air between them was electric, charged with an energy he didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

“No,” he said again, his voice shaking. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of you!”

He turned to run, but the wild Alpha was faster. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of Kai, blocking his path.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he said with a dangerous grin. “You can’t run from fate.”

At fifteen, my parents died on their way of volunteer teaching in underprivileged areas. I was adopted by the Miller family’s Don, Vincent and was brought up by himself. For ten years, he hauled me out of the mud, gave me a home, gave me favor no one else got and taught me what a “family” was supposed to mean.
On my eighteenth birthday, I climbed onto his bed and kissed him.
He called me disgusting with a face like ice. Later, he brought Isabella home, forced me to be her bridesmaid, and made me go with her to pick out wedding dresses and jewelry.
One shove from her was all it took for him to lock me in a pitch-black confinement room and he even had the light removed.
That was when I finally understood: everything I had could be taken back from me at any moment.

Victoria discovered that I hadn't submitted any supplemental medical expense claims for two weeks.
She assumed I had finally been disciplined and had given up what she called "the exploitative nature of the lower class."
Little did she know, my backpack held the signed divorce papers and my mother's death certificate.
As I turned to leave, I was still wearing the discounted trench coat she'd casually given me three years ago when we got married.
What she didn't know was that I, a deep-sea geology genius from MIT, willingly endured three years of her humiliation and ridiculous rules, just so my mother could stay in her conglomerate's private hospital to prolong her life.
Now, my mother has died because of unpaid bills , and even her ashes are carried by me in a cheap canvas bag.
Now that my loved one is dead, there's no need for me to continue being her obstructive dog on Wall Street. The lives she owed with those approval forms, I will settle with the collapse of her entire conglomerate empire.

In my previous life, I gave away all my resources to save people, but my godfather broke my legs and fed me to the zombies.
Reincarnated 30 days before the apocalypse, I borrowed millions to build a nuclear-proof bunker and bought twelve retired, violent, and rabid dogs.
Extreme cold descends. With nowhere else to turn and in a desperate attempt to survive, the priest forces a space-age ability user to pinpoint the coordinates of the area inside the bunker with the "highest concentration of heat," and then forcibly teleports to steal the bunker.
He landed laughing wildly, feeling the scorching heat wave hitting him, thinking he had taken over my generator room and greenhouse.
I sneered and remained silent through the bulletproof glass.
This idiot has no idea that the hottest place in my shelter... has never been the generator.

An epic cold snap struck, causing temperatures to plummet to minus eighty degrees Celsius.
My fiancée and best friend occupied my hillside villa, laughing hysterically as they watched a video of me nearly freezing to death.
In their eyes, once I turned into a solid block of ice, they could rightfully inherit my vast fortune and live in this warm, doomsday Noah's Ark.
But what they didn't know was that the video was n't real at all .
I stood in the temperature-controlled bunker twenty meters below them and cut off their main power.
The hunt was about to begin.

In this apocalyptic world of extreme heat, I fight for water in the underground black market, and I risk my life to hoard supplies.
My internet-famous roommate enjoyed my efforts while hiding in the air-conditioned room, panting softly in front of three fill lights: "We need to slow down and reconcile with nature."
Later, she stole my supplies and sold them to drug lords, causing me to be roasted alive on the riverbed.
After being reborn, I turned and left.
"Don't you like a slow-paced life? Stay here and enjoy it."
The end times have only just begun.

In my previous life, an endless polar night and frost-laden corpse tide swept through the entire city.
My wife and I took in her mother and younger brother out of familial obligation,
But when monsters attacked, they locked us outside the shelter and we were torn apart alive.
Opening my eyes again, there are only seven days until doomsday arrives.
My wife and I have reached a consensus—to hell with blood being thicker than water!
This time, we will build an icy tomb for them with our own hands at the highest point of this city.

A horde of 100,000 mutated beasts besieged the city, and a ten-meter-tall abyssal wolf pressed its claws against my throat.
My enemy, riding on the wolf's back, laughed maniacally, threw down the chains, and ordered me to kneel and surrender immediately.
The fortress garrison closed their eyes in despair. But looking at that gaping maw so close to my face, I let out a long sigh of relief, even laughing aloud.
"What are you laughing at, facing certain death?!" she shrieked.
"I'm laughing at your pathetic stupidity." I gently crushed a poison capsule in my sleeve. "You really think I threw down all my weapons and walked out of the city gates to face this 100,000-strong army to surrender?"
"That's because if the distance exceeds three meters, my genetic virus can't be precisely injected into this beast's lungs."

For three whole years, as the "partner" of the bourgeois empress Victoria, I remained the most docile shadow of her business empire. Everyone thought I was a beautifully kept ornament, but only I knew that beneath this glittering facade, every shadow was a chaotic situation I had quelled with my own blood and flesh. It wasn't
until she used her daughter's final resting place as leverage to appease her lover that I realized that marriage was nothing more than a deceptive hunt.
Now, I'm going to recoup the costs.

They kept me shackled before the Gates of the Abyss, force-feeding me toxic sludge and draining my final drop of blood, all to maintain their hypocritical "order." They called me the "Ultimate Anchor," unaware that the moment a watchdog decides it’s done playing the dog, the beast in the cage finally wakes up. From the very second I seized the laws of physics, this entire headquarters of the Defense Bureau became my private mausoleum. Your high-and-mighty Director? He’s currently kneeling in my cycle, begging for the sweet release of death. As for that Void Rift that makes the world tremble? Sorry, I just ate it for dinner.

We’ve been married for five years. Then, she got pregnant with someone else's child.
In front of everyone, she said: "Ethan doesn't want this baby. You've always wanted one, right? Fine, take it and raise it."
In that moment, I finally understood: she wasn’t incapable of loving someone—she simply never saw me as a human being.
I took off my wedding ring, left it on the tray, and bought a one-way ticket to the North. My family said I wouldn't survive in the frozen North; she said that without her, I was nothing.
Three years later, she tracked me down using the GPS hidden inside that ring. She pushed open the door to my attic room, finding only a note I’d left: "Don't look for me. We're square."

The global freeze descended, and the apocalypse arrived right on cue. I seized all the critical supplies and evacuated first, leaving "the perfect base" behind for the two traitors who backstabbed me. They thought it was heaven, but little did they know that the entire fortress was a precision trap constructed of deception, scarcity, and despair. As the outdoor temperature plummeted to minus eighty degrees, I sat by the window, roasting venison and watching them through high-definition infrared, coldly observing as they lost their humanity in the desperate fight for a single bowl of sawdust.

I spent three years as a "useless son-in-law," humiliated in public by my wife, all to repay a debt of life-saving gratitude.
That night, she handed me a cup of poisoned wine, smiling as she told me to "disappear from this world."
But she didn't know that the wine served to terminate our contract of protection—and unchained my shackles completely.
When the fighter jets of the Northern Command cast their shadows over the entire estate, she finally knelt in the mud, crying out for "Adrian."
But this time, I will not look back.

In my previous life, my wife was addicted to black market gambling on football, which caused us to lose everything.
To make matters worse, a zombie horde then broke out.
We had no shelter and were quickly torn apart by a horde of frenzied zombies.
After being reborn, she planned to run off with all the money, then dump me and elope with her lover.
What she didn't know was that I had awakened the ability to read minds and knew all her plans.

My fiancée's father called me a stray dog, worse than trash.
My rival forced me to crawl between his legs and trampled me into the mud.
They all thought I was just a piece of trash to be trampled on at will.
But they didn't know that I endured humiliation and hardship for a shocking secret order.

I was reborn. My younger brother stole the woman who had lost her leg and was blind, thinking he had seized the throne of the apocalypse.
He didn't know that her power in her past life stemmed from the pendant on my chest—which contained a fountain of life.
This time, I'm not a savior. I'm handing the spring over to the nation.
The Pentagon has given me a new designation: National Assets.
While the younger brother was being beaten up by his neighbor for a half-empty can of cola, the National Guard's superhumans had already begun clearing out the infected.
He called, his voice hoarse: "Her superpower is only enough to chill a glass of cola... You tricked me?"
I hung up the phone and went into the lab.
"What's the extraction rate of the spiritual spring water today?"

In the extreme cold of the apocalypse, I was bound to the Seraphim's Flame, gaining access to the tycoon's bunker.
My good brother Luke was so jealous he went mad and killed me with a single blow.
Reborn, Luke stole the "Seraphic Flame" and, like throwing away trash, kicked another dark, ugly stone to my feet.
He didn't know—Redstone was a blood-sucking evil, while Blackstone was the true god-level talent.
When the deathly gale of minus seventy degrees swept across the world, I activated the [Dimensional Fortress] of infinite space.
Tons of munitions, mountains of supplies, overwhelming heavy firepower…
I will stand on the frozen wasteland and watch that bastard, step by step, become the human battery I need.

I was cursed, trapped in a "Trial of Sincerity"—I could only regain my freedom if she spoke the words "I love you" from the bottom of her heart.
For five years, I’ve taken bullets for her, gone to prison for her, and stood on the brink of death four times. She would only call me "my best friend" or say "I need you," but she never uttered those three words.
Four times, she abandoned me as I lay dying, rushing instead to the side of another man.
The fifth time, with a bullet in my abdomen and my insides exposed, I lay on the operating table. She finally wept, screaming "I love you"—once, twice... twelve times in total.
Too bad. After waking up from that fourth brush with death, I had already signed a Do-Not-Resuscitate (DNR) order.
This time, my heart has stopped beating. Not because of my wounds, but because I’ve made my choice: I won't let her save me.

Betrayed by my wife on the eve of the apocalypse, they stole the shelter keys and locked me in the heart of the zombie outbreak to die.
I felt no anger.
Three minutes to blast open the blast door, ten minutes to drain the billions from that despicable couple's overseas accounts,
and then I'd buy machine guns and artillery from the black market! The couple speeding down the highway had no idea that the "top-secret key" they were protecting was actually a bomb designed to detonate the defense system.
The real wasteland survival game had only just begun.

In my past life, I was cheated on.
My wife is having an affair with my fitness coach, and even our five-year-old daughter isn't my child.
I filed for divorce, and she left with nothing. I thought my life couldn't get any worse—but then the apocalypse came, and I was bitten to death by zombies.
In her last moments before she died, I saw her family of three nestled in her lover's secluded mountain cabin, with plenty of food and drink, passing away peacefully in their old age.
God gave me a second chance.
Back on the day we signed the divorce papers, I smiled and said to my ex-wife, "You can have the villa, but I want Julian's dilapidated cabin."

They all thought I was just a rogue soldier who had crawled back from the border, covered in gunpowder and looking for revenge for my family's old debts.
Everyone was guessing which building I would blow up next. Julian, as I expected, panicked.
He recalled all his elite personnel to the Vientiane Building, activated top-level security, practically turning the entire office building into an impenetrable fortress, and sealed off assets globally to prevent my "illegal theft."
But he made a mistake.
When he personally pressed the reset lock, attempting to regain control of the system through manual verification, he didn't hear the prompt of command execution, but rather the hydraulic hum emanating from the building's load-bearing walls—it was the "self-destruct program" he had personally signed, running as scheduled under the guise of my privileges.

In my previous life, I was the government-appointed hero of the apocalypse, dying on the frozen plains after the spotlight dimmed, feeding their glorious honor with my very life.
In this life, I tore up the script and rejected that performance they called "saving the world." When the so-called "hero" stands on the command deck once again, I am deep in the dark underground, clutching a scoreboard with my frostbitten hands—
After all, heroes are offerings reserved for history books; I, however, only want to ensure that this group of abandoned souls can survive through tonight.

After ten years of being a "consumable," I performed my final maintenance on the very day Vivian handed my life's work over to someone else. I didn’t argue or resist; I just signed the paperwork with a smile. When the Thorne Tower began to collapse floor by floor due to my final permission error, she finally realized that all the brilliance she boasted of was nothing more than the residual warmth I had fed her. Now, she kneels in the ruins, begging me to turn back time. I only find her voice… annoying.

For half a box of rations, my former comrade put a bullet in my back. As I gasped my last, the world reset—three days before the apocalypse. I didn't go after him for revenge. I floored the accelerator, racing toward the Texas borderlands where my grandfather—a Vietnam veteran—had spent forty years hoarding "junk" that everyone mocked. When the heat turned the earth into a furnace and Drake’s war-party smashed into the fence, they were met with a wall of diesel fire. My grandfather had spent three years digging a secret tunnel that bypassed the perimeter, and half a ton of fertilizer sent their entire encampment into the sky. They laughed at his junk pile. I laughed at their graves.

The day manager Gregg shoved me into the freight elevator shaft, the nuclear winter outside had only just begun. As he slammed the gate shut, he said, "No one will find you dead down there; the insurance payout is enough to cover the shortfall." I died in the darkness at thirty degrees below zero. Then, I woke up. I was back on the afternoon he threw the contract in my face. This time, I didn't sign. I shoved the contract into the paper shredder, snatched the brass key ring from Supervisor Miller, locked every exit of the warehouse, and re-routed the entire building's heating system into my own command bunker. As Gregg licked ice off the frozen floor on the security monitor, I was sitting in the guard room, heating up a can of pork. Outside, the first snowflake fell. And this time, the ones who would be freezing to death were them.

They call me the "Savior," building altars for me amidst the ruins.
But they don't know that when I climbed out of the abyss, I had no intention of saving this species whatsoever.
I am not here to rebuild civilization; I am simply calculating exactly how many souls I must reclaim to fully awaken my Ark.

The world thought I was a broken man after rotting in the Abyss for five years. Even Moretti, the wealthiest mogul in Cold Harbor, dared to point a finger at my nose and demand I kneel.
He razed my estate, seized my daughter, and humiliated my past on a city-wide livestream.
What he didn’t know was that the moment his infrared scanners locked onto me, I had already initiated the sequence for a dormant orbital satellite that had been sleeping above us for five years.
When the skyscraper turns to ash, the man kneeling before me won’t be that arrogant tycoon—only a trembling corpse.
After all, in this city, I don’t believe in reason. I only believe in retribution.

At thirty-five, I finally die— only to wake up as Isabella Montague, the stunning heroine of a fantasy novel I wrote as a stupid teen.

My plan? A world-class retirement involving heavy naps and bottomless snacks.

But the 'perfect' men I created are ruining the plan.

The brooding Northern Duke won't stop watching me. The Golden Prince is convinced my disinterest is actually a challenge. My knight—and best friend—is ready to burn the world down if I so much as yawn. And a certain Elven noble who swore off humans keeps finding excuses to be near my tea.

They want my heart. I just want my pillow.

Too bad the world is cursed, the Queen wants me dead, and everyone keeps trying to put me on a throne I never asked for.

Can't a girl just chill?

The day my daughter was declared brain dead, my billionaire wife was busy making soup for her first love, who was suffering from heart failure.
To fund a heart transplant for her first love , she made a phone call and injected our biological daughter with a large dose of nerve-blocking agents, taking her life .
The night before the burial, I begged her like a dog to come and see our daughter off one last time, but she impatiently scolded me on the phone: "Don't bother me with dead people all the time; the dead can't be brought back to life."
Later, on our sixth wedding anniversary, in front of all the wealthy and powerful in New York, she offered me a top-quality frozen fertilized egg as compensation, promising to give me a "new child."
However, when she opened the high-end gift box I gave her with a smile—
there was no so-called "new life" inside, only a completely drained bankruptcy liquidation document for a conglomerate, a waste receipt for the fertilized egg that had been flushed down the drain, and a high-definition video of her first love laughing at her in a club, saying she was "so easy to fool."

On our wedding day, she vanished wearing the gown I had bought for her.
I didn’t chase her. Instead, I went back to the operating table.
For three years, I had paid off her debts and filled the holes she left behind—enough for her to live a second life. My heart couldn't take it anymore; I had a stent implanted, though she never knew.
Three days later, I died in the hospital corridor. My ECG flatlined.
She didn’t know. She was still at a cocktail party in another city, clinking glasses with someone else.
A month later, she came back, kneeling before my tombstone in tears.
But it was all too late.

My fiancée and best friend, whom I risked my life to protect, sold me to the brutal "Blood Blade Gang . "
They laughed as they watched me being kicked into a pool of radioactive waste like a dog, waiting for me to turn into a pile of bones.
But they didn't know that the deadly radiation not only failed to melt me, but also forcibly ruptured my genetic lock, awakening the [Nuclear Fury].
I rode back to the old camp in her heavily armored vehicle.
Those two scoundrels were still arrogantly bullying me: "I have the Blood Blade Gang backing me! The big shots are coming soon, you're dead!"
I sneered and slapped them away.
Idiots, look back! Your so-called powerful backer is kneeling in the vehicle, lighting my cigarette.

They call me a parasite.
An outdated piece of trash. A fraudster hiding in the clouds, sucking the blood of the empire.
They spat at my shadow, threw stones at my door, and made my daughter bind my wrists with spirit-binding silver.
Then they asked me if I had any last words.
I said, "The void is coming."
They burst into laughter.
Now, the sky has cracked open.
Those who once cursed my name are now kneeling in the ashes, begging me for help.
I sat on a cold rock on Greystone Ridge, gazing at the distant firelight.
I could have stopped it all.
But I choose—
To stand idly by.

My teammates viewed me as a mobile food supply and planned to butcher me before they ran out of rations.
They thought that as long as I died, they would win this "survival game."
However, they would never know that what I brought back from the depths of the ruins wasn't fear, but the highest-level administrative privileges of the entire logistics system. While they killed each other for a bag of expired biscuits, I had already locked the exit to this hell. Sorry, but in this settling of accounts, you aren't even qualified to be treated as bargaining chips.

I thought I was the luckiest person in the apocalypse.
My brother, a former special forces soldier, brought me supplies so I wouldn't have to face the horrors above ground.
My girlfriend comforted me over the radio, saying she'd cry in my arms once we could finally get out.
I lived underground for three years, grateful like a domesticated dog.
Until that day, when I pushed open the door, smelled fresh grass, and saw the swimming pool in the sunlight—that's when I understood that the so-called apocalypse was never outside, but behind the door they had locked me in.

I’ve been guarding a door in the Nevada underground for a hundred years. The system marks this place "Abandoned," and the official records claim I don't exist.
When the investigation team arrived, the leader was my old signal corpsman. He pretended not to know me and ordered his guards to drag me out like a piece of dead weight.
They shoved a young lad from the Rex family into the breach as bait, and while everyone screamed in horror, no one dared to move.
So, I jumped down to fish the kid out, using a bottle of beer to force back the tentacles reaching from the dark.
Then, I pulled on that dusty old uniform and pressed my palm against the master console—all thirty-two security protocols verified instantly.
The lead technician collapsed in shock: "This clearance level is restricted to the Chief Architect only."
He was right. I am.
The thing I’ve kept locked behind that door for a century woke up, whispering: "What do you want?"
I said: "Dinner."

To fulfill a dying comrade's final request, I spent twelve years living in the shadows to protect his daughter. I took bullets for her, laundered her black-market assets, and eventually handed over my entire stake in the security empire. In her eyes, I am her father’s murderer; in mine, she is a mission—the only flicker of light left in my life. Until that fateful banquet, when she personally shoved me into the sights of mercenaries. Watching my blood bloom across her dress, she hooked her arm around my nemesis and ordered coldly, "Clean it up." In that moment, twelve years of devotion collapsed, and a heart that beat only for her finally learned to freeze. This time, I’ve decided to personally destroy the monster I raised.

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

Betrayed to death by my own brother, I was reborn before the apocalypse descended.
He rushed to seize the god-tier [Copy] talent first, leaving the trash [Purification] talent for me.
He thought that with this talent, he'd have no worries and reign supreme in the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, I quietly closed the last door of my fortress.
He didn't know that his prized copying ability had a fatal flaw.

Hidden my true identity as a seer


My mom was a witch, or rather, an ex-witch. She had given up her powers for my dad. I inherited her blood witch power and have a special identity, a seer.

But this powerful role brings me much trouble rather than luck. Every day, I put on my contacts and wig to hide my special eye and hair colour which are symbols of a seer. If I were found, I would be killed. So I need to be very carefully

As a seer, by touching other people’s skin, I could see some visions.

Today, my boss asked me to accompany a client. I touch his hand and find he is a damn shit, Wolf!

And he said I am his Mate！

Fuck off? I lent over to her side of the car, grabbed her hips and ripped her over to straddle my lap. This girl was something else, I knew it from the start. Now I needed her to know just who I am and what I am capable of. I held one hand firmly on her waist and the other to her throat. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt her, but it would keep her in place for now.
“Angel, you have a filthy fucking mouth”, I whispered low into her ear.
“Luciano…” Finally, an expression on her face. A real one she wasn’t hiding from me. It wasn’t fear though. It was lust. My girl likes this. I pulled her down further so she could feel just how much I was liking it too and the most enchanting gasp came from her mouth while her eyes rolled back for a moment.
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Do you enjoy a damsel in distress and a knight in shining armour? If so, then this book is not for you. This five foot nothing, FMC, Ariana Salvatore is a ruthless assassin, trained and tortured to be the most deadly weapon. She's got a heart of gold, a filthy mouth and a will to survive. She's on the run from her father's heavy hand and deadly demands. What happens when not one but three powerful mafia men pine for her? Will they be able to share? Will her past catch up to her? And what about her ex fiance? The ruthless, beast of a man her father had arranged for her to marry? This book is a whirlwind of events, violent, spicy and not for the faint hearted.