WICKED ALPHA, DEFIANT LUNA

Finding the Runaway WifeUntitled Part 1

"Hello, wife."

When Savannah opened her eyes, a familiar voice entered her mind. The man she had avoided for nine years was sitting beside her bed on a chair. What happened to her? Her gaze wandered around the room, and all she saw was white, from the walls to the sheets.

Damn! She's been admitted to the hospital. She passed out once more.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to process what had happened. She opened her eyes again, and the man on the chair was still staring at her with intensity. When she felt the stinging on her right arm, she sat up and flinched.

Right! She was shot, but she was able to kill the criminal.

She smirked at him. "Ex-wife," she clarified. The man clenched his teeth and let out a low growl. "Savvy, you are still my wife. I did not sign the divorce agreement you left. We are still legally married and you are my mate."

"I stand corrected; I'll be your soon-to-be ex-wife, and call me Anna. I hate that name," she said, her face irritated. She was taken aback, but she didn't show it. She was taught not to show emotion in any situation. He didn't divorce her, despite what she did to his prized possessions. When she ran away from him nine years ago, she didn't look back and didn't check the divorce papers. She used her birth name with the help of Ethan.

"I assure you, wife, you will not receive a divorce from me. You owe me a lot."

"You made my life miserable, Carter," Savannah scoffed. "I owe you absolutely nothing."

Savannah had been staring at her husband, Theodore Carter, for a few moments. The man who was once the center of her universe is no longer there. She had hated him for years, but now that he was in front of her, her hatred had vanished, replaced by a deep longing. His charming appearance, which had dazzled many women, had faded away, replaced by his ragged seriousness. Despite his age, he had a surprisingly young face, she thought, a classic curved face with an engraved handsomeness enhanced in some way by the dark stubble of his beard shading his jaw. He had a captivating male magnitude of face and form, as well as the mythical god quality of animal power.

Too wealthy, too attractive, and too spoiled by his fame and notoriety. He had a lot of them. Exceptional talents, which were rare for a regular human. But he isn't just any ordinary human; he's a werewolf, a top-tier hunter werewolf—not just of a pack, but of a royal pack. But now, he is an Alpha and he needed a Luna. That is why he was here.

He was also famous (or infamous) for his love life. And she suspected that the women who collected his likeness were more interested in his amorous exploits than in his other abilities. She had seen him with a number of women over the years all over the entertainment websites and channels. It hurt her to see him move on with his life after what had happened while she was struggling to be a better version of herself.

His face was strikingly handsome, and his dark eyes were tender despite their savage azure. He was vicious and delightfully illogical, and she once compared him to a god dressed in ravishing splendor.

"Did I meet your expectations, sweetheart?" he teased her, smirking at her obvious scrutiny. His charm was instantly visible on his face, and her heartbeat raced as if she were a young and gullible girl once more.

"Not bad; you did well," she said, smirking.

"You too, sweetheart; you're still so beautiful," he whispered as he gazed at her as if in adoration.

She smiled sadly as she avoided his intense gaze. "I got rid of all my baby fats. You can no longer refer to me as a walking washing machine. I'm still as boring as a bored boar. To my disappointment, I turned into a bee, not a lovely butterfly." She laughed, but the pain and the hollowness were obvious in her voice.