**This chapter is dedicated to a special someone for your support on my buy me a coffee. Whoever you are, it means a lot to me Thank you ♥️ Alora. The cold air ruffled my hair and my dress making it harder to keep up with Ezra's hurried and long strides. Despite looking very fragile and soft, Ezra wasn't anything but that. His grip was strong and fierce even with having slender and long fingers, his tampered manicured fingernails digging into my skin painfully. Ezra pulled me with enough strength to pull down a tower, his grip was just as powerful as Jax's or Ares' or even more. And I clenched my teeth as I staggered behind him. "Let me go!" I yelled, nearly stumbling against a rock with my high heels that didn't make catching up with him any easier. Deep throaty laugh escaped his lips sending chills down my spine as it echoed in the empty forest. It seems other wolves had gone back to change and continue the ball as no one was in sight. "You need to see who Ares truly is. He's b

**This chapter is specially dedicated to Elizabeth Anne Sessions for your support on my buy me a coffee. Thank you♥️ Ares. I've never known pain in this manner. The pain I was accustomed to was the one that dealt with my body, tearing it apart as I bled from the wreck it caused to my physical body. But this kind of pain was different. It didn't attack my body like the curse did. It didn't make me scream while it tore my back. It didn't feel like a hot iron rod being smeared over my skin. Neither did it feel like a thousand needles piercing me at once. No. It didn't feel like any of that. This pain was different. Like someone was ripping my heart from the inside, off my chest very slowly and painfully. Like it was being squeezed out, taken and thrown off the floor. Like it was crushed under heavy boots, leaving its pieces all over the place. This kind of pain didn't leave an eternal scar over my skin. Instead it smeared my heart with so many invisible scars th

Ares Delgado. Cold, ruthless, Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack. I was feared but respected by all. I wasn't made to love or to be loved. I was made to eradicate every last member of the White Moon Pack, especially their Alpha. Jax Pentagon. But fate had a different plan for me when I found a broken, beaten and wolfless girl under my bed. And worst of all, she reminds me of the memories of my past, a past I had vowed to forget even though it haunted me at night. A past hidden in darkness. A past cloaked in secrets. A past that turned me into a monster. A word that I hated, just like ‘love’. But I hadn’t always been this way, I was made this way. I was created to be this person. And even though I am not in that cold, dark place anymore. I guess I didn't lose my demons, I only learned to live with them. Now I am going to tell you who Alessio Delgado is, the person I was before I became Ares Delgado, the person you know now. **Hello everyone, I am super happy to get back to writin

Alora. I stood frozen, unable to breathe as everything froze around me. It was like everyone had vanished leaving behind the monster who tormented me. Jax stood in front of me. A dark sinister smile on his lips as he locked his eyes with mine. “Your hair looks different.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper but I heard him as clear as day. People stopped talking, as their eyes fixed on both Jax and I. They were probably wondering what was happening. “Did you dye it so I wouldn’t find you?” He asked again, his voice sending shivers down my spine as I finally let out a breath and tears filled my eyes. I was a fool. I had left Ares pack, looking to find freedom but instead I was going back to the fire I had once escaped. My heart thundered in my chest and I felt any second, it would jump out to the cold concertante floor. Jax chuckled, his eyes glittered with evil as he kept them on me before he glanced sideways. “Bring her to me.” He told one of his men beside him

**Trigger warning self-harm. Ares. I felt myself dreaming. I knew the exact time I left the real world and drowned myself in my subconscious. The last bell rang for the end of class and my three year old self went to the corridors to wash my hands when I saw my homeroom teacher standing outside the classroom with another teacher. Mrs Shin was a nice Chinese lady who taught our class and after the palm painting, she had left the classroom. I smiled, starting to go to her when I heard her conversation with Mrs Dray of Class 2. “I heard his mother was raped. How true is that?” Mrs Dray asked and I frowned. My three year old self struggled to understand what they were talking about. But I was too inquisitive to leave as I stood, looking up at them as they were deep in conversation not realizing I was standing far off. “I don’t think so. She’s a Russian girl! You know how they are.” Mrs Shin said, rolling her eyes. “They said she worked at a club where she met that famous Mr