I woke up with fangs, a thirst for blood, and no memories of my past. To add to my confusion, the Grim Reaper is inexplicably hell-bent on ending me. Who would've thought that the God of the Dead would wear designer suits and ooze power and danger like a mob boss straight from the underworld?

After our rival gives up the throne as my dying wish, my men trust him to protect me from any danger that may come my way. He keeps me safe, somehow understanding the darkness that lurks inside of me. He knows it cannot be caged, and he allows me the ability to set it free when we’re alone.

Callum Griffin is the heir to the Irish mafia. He’s ruthless, arrogant, and he wants to kill me. We got off on the wrong foot when I set a (very small) fire in his house. Our families believe a marriage pact is the only thing that will prevent all-out warfare. I think I might need to murder him while he sleeps. This would all be a lot easier if Callum wasn’t so damned good-looking.

I hate Dante Moretti. He is cold, calculating, and vicious. It’s no secret that he wiped out his former fiancée and her entire family on the eve of their wedding. He’s the kind of evil that makes even devils cry. But that’s not why I hate him.

Welcome to Carnage Island. Home of brutal chaos. Blood and tears. And nefarious schemes. A half-breed. A reject. A wolf without a mate. My family doesn't want me. My alpha disowned me. And my mate rejected me. So I’ve just been given a new pack assignment. Carnage Island. Home to the worst of wolf kind. Vicious. Cruel beasts. Wicked deeds. I’m not one of them. But I’m not a Nantahala wolf either. I’m something distinctly other: an Omega trapped in an Alpha’s skin. One step toward my fate, and all the males turn their heads. I’m fresh meat. Property to be claimed.