Ghost survived black sites, torture, overseas wars, and six years of becoming something less human and more useful. Founder of BLACK VEIL. Mercenary captain. A ghost story in tactical gear. The kind of man people called when they needed a building cleared, a body retrieved, or a problem buried so deep it stopped having a name. He was silent, brutal, untouchable. Even his own men feared him. As for someone like that— Nyra Quinn, underground mechanic and illegal street racer, had one very professional opinion: “He looks like he buries people in wet cement for stress relief.” Then one day, Ghost watched her steal a motorcycle outside a bank and chase down a robber through downtown LA traffic like she’s starring in her own action movie. He’s in the middle of a sniper assignment when it happened. One second he’s calculating wind direction. The next? Nyra tackled the guy off a bike, draged him into an alley, and started beating him with her helmet... He forgot his target existed for six seconds. For the first time in eight years. ... Later, Nyra worked under the hood of BLACK VEIL’s armored SUV while six armed mercenaries stood around like emotionally constipated furniture. She didn’t look up. > “Does your boss come with a user manual, or is the mask supposed to explain the whole personality disorder?” The garage went silent. Because no one talked about Ghost. Not like that. Not in front of him. Ghost stood beside the vehicle, skull mask turned toward her. After a long pause, he said, > “Nyra.” She rolled out from under the engine with a wrench in her hand. > “What?” His grey eyes lowered to the grease on her cheek. Then to her mouth. Then back to her eyes. > “Come here.” Nyra narrowed her eyes. > “If this is a murder thing, I’m charging extra.” Ghost’s voice dropped lower. Rougher. > “I lost focus on a job today.” Nyra blinked. > “Congratulations on having a human experience?” His men stopped breathing. Ghost didn’t move. > “Because of you.” Nyra stared at him. The wrench slipped slightly in her hand. Across the garage, Kane muttered, > “We’re all completely fucked.” ① Emotionally repressed masked mercenary captain × sunshine chaos mechanic ② He kills people for touching him. She touches his mask and asks if he’s hiding scars or feelings under there. ③ Slow burn / touch-starved antihero / found family mercenaries / black humor / “she makes the monster hesitate.”

Claire Dawson thought she knew everything about her best friend. For two years, she and Alina Veyne shared classes, dreams, and late-night talks while studying veterinary medicine in Seattle. Alina was brilliant, fiercely protective, and strangely restless whenever the moon hung high over the city. Then one brutal night changed everything. After being attacked outside a nightclub, Claire witnesses the impossible: Alina transforms into a massive gray wolf and tears their attackers apart to save her life. The secret world of werewolves suddenly becomes terrifyingly real. As Claire is drawn deeper into pack politics, forbidden secrets, and the dangerous laws of the Alpha wolves, her bond with Alina only grows stronger. But the closer she gets to the pack, the more she realizes her own fate may already be tied to theirs. And somewhere in the shadows, an Alpha is already watching her.

Five years of marriage, a beautiful daughter, and a life built on trust—all shattered by a lingering scent of unfamiliar perfume. Sienna thought she had Julian’s heart, but the return of his "first love," Lydia, proves that some ghosts never die. When Sienna finds Julian’s lingering touch on another woman, she doesn't cry; she hires the city's most ruthless divorce lawyer, Sebastian. But Sebastian has a secret of his own: the woman ruining Sienna’s marriage is his own fiancée. In a web of lies, betrayal, and unexpected alliances, Sienna must decide: how far will she go to reclaim her life?

"Fifty million dollars and this estate. Sign the papers and disappear." Seren Thorne couldn't believe her luck. In her past life, she was a legendary Oracle, a master of the mystic arts who died of starvation due to a brutal poverty curse. Now, she had transmigrated into the body of a pathetic, obsessed socialite in a cliché romance novel. To her, the cold-blooded billionaire Alaric Vane wasn't a husband—he was a massive, walking ATM. She couldn't wait to grab the cash and hire a dozen handsome models to enjoy her new life. But just as she flashed him a tearful, "heartbroken" smile, Alaric froze. He could hear it. A voice as clear as day, screaming inside her head: [Sign the damn papers, you arrogant statue! I’ve got fifty million waiting and a yacht full of young hotties to meet!] Alaric narrowed his eyes. This "obsessed" wife of his wasn't just different—she was a sharp-tongued mystic who saw him as nothing but a payday. He slowly tore the divorce papers to shreds, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. "The divorce is canceled, Seren. And as for those 'young hotties'... over my dead body." She predicts the future; he reads her mind. In this game of secrets, who will surrender first?

Asher was the undisputed king of Riverdale Prep. A future top-tier Alpha, he had it all: the looks, the lead in the varsity standings, and a streak of academic brilliance that no one could touch. Or so he thought. When Sebastian, his childhood rival and the only person he ever truly loathed, transfers back to town, Asher’s world tilts. Sebastian isn't just back—he's faster, smarter, and has already presented as a dominant Alpha, stealing Asher’s spotlight in a heartbeat. Determined to reclaim his throne, Asher pushes himself to the limit, only for nature to play the ultimate prank. In the heat of their fiercest confrontation, Asher doesn't just lose his cool—he presents. But not as the Alpha he was promised to be. He’s an Omega, and the only scent that can keep his new, agonizing cravings at bay belongs to the one man he swore to hate forever.

I spent ten years waiting for a ghost. He was my Angel—the one who rescued me from the trash, taught me to speak, and whispered that I was precious. But on my fifteenth birthday, he vanished into thin air, leaving me with a heart frozen in time and a silver cross that felt like a leaden weight around my neck. I thought the hardest part was living without him. I was wrong. On my twentieth birthday, the Monster arrived. He didn't come with wings; he came with fangs and eyes the color of fresh martyrs' blood. In one night of crimson snow, he tore the life from my veins and replaced it with a hunger that defies God. He turned me into the very thing my Angel fought to protect me from. But as the Monster drags me into the dark aristocracy of Veridian City, he whispers a truth that shatters my soul: “Your Angel didn't leave you, Aurora. He imprisoned you.” Now, I am caught in a lethal game between the savior who loved me with a lie and the predator who broke me to set me free. One holds the key to my past; the other holds the leash to my future. In a world of eternal night, who do you trust when your Angel wears a mask of thorns, and your Monster is the only one telling the truth?

On the night her husband should have been away, Vivian Hale ends up in the arms of a man who looks exactly like him. For three years, Adrian Cross never touched her. Never wanted children. Never looked at her scarred body with desire. But his “double” does. What begins as suspicion soon turns into a devastating truth: her husband hired another man to take his place while he spent his nights with his young mistress. Humiliated and heartbroken, Vivian decides to play along. If Adrian wants deception, she’ll give him the perfect lie. If he wants freedom, she’ll take everything before she leaves. But the dangerous twin standing in the shadows was never supposed to fall for her. And Vivian was never supposed to discover that the wrong man might be the only one who truly loves her. Secrets. Obsession. Betrayal. And a baby that could destroy them all.

Stop it, I can’t take much more. It wraps around my waist in the morning, winds around my legs at noon, and by night, it slips right under my clothes—can’t shake it off. After a catastrophic research vessel accident in the Puerto Rico Trench, Elara thought her life was over. Instead, she woke up in a glowing, bioluminescent palace at the bottom of the world, kept as a "pet" by a creature who shouldn't exist. He is Kaelen—a colossal, silver-haired deity with golden slit pupils and endless, shimmering tentacles that never want to let her go. He tells her she can only breathe through his essence; to leave him is to embrace certain death. But as his heated coils wrap tighter around her each night, Elara finds herself fearing his absence more than his possessive embrace. Is it survival, or have the whispers of the deep finally claimed her heart?