APKDock Logo
Chapters
share
Mated To The Possessive Wolf Admiral Novel Cover

Mated To The Possessive Wolf Admiral

I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber. Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle. To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl. Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness. But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure. When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral. He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me. He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed. "I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again." He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me. I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed. I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result. But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded. The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes. My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe.
Chapters
share

Chapter 5

Ten hours later, Anastasia's eyes snapped open. The energy from the serum had been fully absorbed. A sharp, predatory light gleamed in their depths.

She sat up in a single, silent motion. Her body felt impossibly light, powerful. She felt like she could punch a hole straight through the titanium wall.

She immediately noticed the absence of the large, brooding figure who had been guarding her. The air held only the faint, lingering scent of cold pine and snow.

HOST'S PHYSICAL FUNCTIONS RESTORED TO 120% OF PEAK CONDITION, Blue's interface appeared in her vision. CURRENT ZONE IS SECURE. TARGET INDIVIDUAL DEPARTED TWO HOURS AGO.

Anastasia's gaze fell on a silver, insulated food container placed neatly beside the mat. On top of it was an electronic note bearing a military crest.

She picked it up. Evander's handwriting was strong and decisive.

I have been summoned to headquarters for an urgent military briefing. The food is in the container. It is absolutely safe. Wait for me to return. I will handle everything.

Anastasia's lips curved into a cold, mocking smile at the last sentence. I will handle everything. As if she were a pet to be managed.

She opened the container. Inside was a meticulously prepared nutrient-rich meal and a glass of warm, sweet milk. She ate quickly and efficiently, replenishing her carbohydrates.

Finished, she stood up. It was time to leave. She needed to gather intelligence on this world and find more clues about the longevity gene.

She walked to the massive chamber door.

WARNING, T518's mechanical voice chirped. COMMANDER HAS ISSUED A HIGHEST-LEVEL SILENT DIRECTIVE. ACCESS DENIED. ANY ATTEMPT TO FORCE ENTRY WILL INITIATE SELF-DESTRUCT SEQUENCE.

Anastasia raised an eyebrow. "Blue, how long to take control of this antique?"

Blue's light pulsed once. CRACKING LOW-DIMENSION SECURITY SYSTEM. ESTIMATED TIME: 3.5 SECONDS.

Less than four seconds later, T518's red alarm light switched to a soft, welcoming green. Its voice, now sycophantic, purred, YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND, HIGHEST AUTHORITY.

Anastasia snapped her fingers in satisfaction. The door slid open without a sound, revealing an empty military corridor.

To avoid surveillance, she materialized a dark gray tactical cloak from her system space. It was woven with optical camouflage fibers.

She draped it over her shoulders, the large hood completely obscuring her stunning face, leaving only the sharp, determined line of her chin visible.

Anticipating that the military might use scent-tracking beasts, she had Blue release a neutralizing agent, completely masking the faint, Omega-like scent she projected.

She moved like a ghost through the Admiral's residence, using the real-time surveillance map provided by Blue to slip through the blind spots of every patrolling mechanical guard.

She reached a service exit where several hovercrafts used for transporting supplies were parked.

She expertly pried open a maintenance hatch on the underbelly of one vehicle and slipped inside, concealing herself within the complex chassis.

Ten minutes later, a logistics officer drove the hovercraft out of the heavily fortified residence, passing through multiple security checkpoints without a single alarm.

The vehicle merged into the bustling sky-lanes of the Imperial Capital, a sprawling metropolis of cyberpunk towers and brutalist architecture.

From her hiding spot, Anastasia watched the alien city through a micro-probe.

When the hovercraft slowed for a traffic light, she made her move. She dropped silently from the chassis, landing behind a massive holographic billboard.

She slid down a maintenance ladder and melted into the throng of people on the street below.

The crowd was a chaotic mix of semi-humanoids. Some had feline ears, others had patches of scales on their skin. Anastasia pulled her hood lower, becoming just another shadow in the urban jungle.

To completely sever any chance of being tracked, she had Blue send several false location pings to the military network, flooding their system with junk data.

HOST, WE CURRENTLY LACK LOCAL CURRENCY AND IDENTIFICATION, Blue advised. IT IS RECOMMENDED TO PROCEED TO AN AREA WITH MINIMAL SURVEILLANCE TO ACQUIRE INTELLIGENCE.

Anastasia looked up, her gaze drawn to the deepest, darkest part of the city-a chaotic tangle of neon lights, filth, and violence.

"The Abyss," she murmured, reading the flickering sign. "Perfect."

She turned and walked toward the darkness.

Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
Open the Official Website

You may also like

Burned by Poison, Saved by the Devil Novel Cover
8.3
My cousin Hailey paid a dock worker to assault me just to ruin my engagement. To survive the military-grade aphrodisiac she poisoned me with, I stumbled into a walk-in freezer and threw myself onto the only source of cold I could find-a man paralyzed by unnatural hypothermia. It was a desperate, primal exchange of my heat for his ice just to keep my heart from stopping. But when Hailey threw open the heavy iron door, leading my fiancé and the entire Bolton family to witness my "shame," her triumphant grin instantly vanished. She hadn't caught me with a low-life thug. She had caught me straddling Demetrius Maddox, the ruthless Iron King of Chicago. The air in the room dropped to absolute zero. My grandmother screamed in horror, and my father turned the color of ash. Hailey, blinded by jealousy, tried to double down. She pointed a manicured finger at the deadliest man in the city and called him a "nameless muscle" I picked up to defile the family name. She didn't realize she had just signed her own death warrant. I didn't cower. I realized this was the only chance to survive the family that wanted me dead. I walked up to the Devil himself, my body still humming with the poison, and looked him in the eye. "Kill me, and the cold inside you wins," I whispered, knowing he was dying from the inverse of my own poison. "I am the only doctor who knows how to cure you." Demetrius tightened his hand around my throat, his dark eyes assessing my worth. "Prove it," he growled. I turned back to my trembling cousin and signaled the enforcer to hand me the whip.
His wife was never meant to survive  Novel Cover
7.5
Arthur Lucas is a billionaire who survives by control, not love. When a scandal threatens to destroy his empire, he needs a wife fast. Someone clean, respectable, and silent. Kiah Taylor needs money to save her brother from prison. Their contract marriage is supposed to be simple. But the scandal isn't about Arthur. It's about Kiah. The moment she becomes his wife, enemies close in. Secrets surface. Lives are threatened. Love becomes dangerous. And survival is no longer guaranteed.
Jilted By Nephew, Claimed By King Novel Cover
7.6
I was kneeling on the cold concrete of an abandoned warehouse, staring at a ticking timer while a masked man held a knife to my throat. My fiancé's nephew, Preston, finally burst through the door, but he wasn't alone. He was clutching my stepsister, Felicia, both of them looking frantic. The kidnapper gave Preston a brutal choice: the bomb was rigged to the door, and he could only take one woman with him. The other would stay behind to burn. Without a single second of hesitation, Preston grabbed Felicia's hand and turned his back on me. "I'm sorry, Annelise," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any real regret. He slammed the heavy iron door shut, leaving me to scream in the darkness as the flames began to roar. He didn't just leave me to die; he did it to protect his inheritance, treating me like a piece of trash that was finally being cleared from his path. Later, in the hospital, he didn't even offer an apology. Instead, he raised his hand to strike me, threatening to finish what the fire started if I dared to speak a word about his cowardice. His stepsister laughed, trying to pour scalding coffee on my face while calling me a pathetic loser who should have stayed in the warehouse. I sat there, cowering and shaking like a broken girl, letting them believe they had won. I watched their cruelty with wide, watery eyes, wondering how they could be so blind to the monster they were provoking. What Preston didn't know was that the entire kidnapping was a performance I had choreographed myself, and every second of his betrayal was recorded in 4K. Now, I've successfully moved into the manor of the real king-his uncle, Francesco Lancaster. He thinks he's rescued a wounded bird, but he's actually invited a world-class predator into his home. The game is no longer about survival; it's about total destruction.
Kneel For Me: The Immortal Queen's Shadow Novel Cover
9.8
I was an arrogant, canceled reality TV star, trying to salvage my ruined reputation on a live broadcast. But after I lost my temper and assaulted a cameraman, my furious grandfather chased me into our family's forbidden gallery, where I accidentally crashed into an ancient, sealed portrait. The canvas shattered, and a terrifying woman with glowing golden eyes stepped out of the wall. She was Cecil, the First Matriarch of the Marshall family. She caught a lightning bolt with her bare hands and crushed me to my knees with an invisible, suffocating pressure. My grandfather, instead of saving me, groveled on the floor and abandoned me to her mercy. "You are the disgrace that will end this family." She hijacked my entire life, forcing me to act as her submissive baggage handler on my own survival reality show, broadcasting my humiliation to millions. I didn't understand why this ancient monster was tormenting me. Why did she strip away my pride, treat me like a broken tool, and force me to endure the mockery of the very ex-girlfriend who had ruined my life? But when those same cast members tried to corner me in the dark woods, Cecil stepped in front of me, her eyes locking onto the silver ring of the man mocking me. "To catch the wolf, one must sometimes walk with the sheep." That was when I realized she wasn't here to destroy me—she was here to hunt the parasites who had been secretly siphoning away my life force.
Reborn As The Cold Villain's Daughter Novel Cover
9.2
I woke up suffocating in the dark, only to find my mind trapped inside a tiny, plump, and entirely uncoordinated body. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my brain, announcing that I was dead in my original world and had transmigrated into a corporate revenge novel as the six-month-old illegitimate daughter of Edward McClure, the story's ruthless villain. The system mercilessly outlined my doomed fate. Tonight, my cold-blooded father would abandon me to a state orphanage. By age two, he would officially sign my rights away, leaving me to die miserably at the hands of human traffickers. Outside my nursery, I could hear his terrifying footsteps approaching, his voice devoid of any human warmth as he debated throwing me out like garbage. I was completely helpless, trapped in a baby's body, staring up at a man who looked at me with pure, visceral disgust. Why did I have to be reborn as the tragic cannon fodder of a tyrant destined to put a bullet in his own head? How was I supposed to win over a severe germaphobe when my unequipped infant reflexes made me literally pee and vomit all over his pristine Tom Ford suits? "Your ultimate mission is to prevent Edward McClure's self-destruction. Step one: Survive tonight's abandonment crisis." Hearing the system's terrifying ultimatum, I swallowed my adult panic, forced a pool of pitiful tears into my large eyes, and reached my chubby little hands toward the monster.
The Fallen Queen's Dating Show Comeback Novel Cover
7.9
Catalina had just won the Best Actress Golden Globe. It was supposed to be the absolute pinnacle of her acting career. But a broken heel on her way backstage sent her crashing right into the arms of Brogan Cohen. He was Hollywood's most untouchable A-lister, and the man she despised most. A hidden paparazzo snapped a perfectly timed photo of him kneeling to untangle her dress, making it look like a deeply intimate, secret romance. The internet instantly exploded. Brogan's rabid fanbase tore Catalina apart, branding her a shameless clout-chaser. To make matters worse, a rival actress weaponized the scandal, accusing Catalina of sleeping her way to the top to steal roles. Within days, Catalina's world collapsed. Her upcoming lead role in a major indie film was suspended. Two luxury fashion houses unilaterally terminated her contracts. Meanwhile, Brogan simply hopped on his private jet and fled to the South of France, leaving her trapped in her apartment as a mob of screaming paparazzi battered her front door. She had spent years proving her talent, only to be blacklisted and labeled a manipulative homewrecker over a stupid accident. The sheer injustice of it suffocated her. She hated Brogan with a fiery, visceral passion for destroying her reputation and running away like a coward. With her career bleeding out, her manager slammed a contract on the desk: an unedited, live-streamed survival dating show on a private Caribbean island. "You need to prove you are entirely repulsed by Brogan Cohen." Catalina grabbed the pen and signed her name with aggressive, sharp strokes. She was going to flirt with every model on that island, burn this false narrative to the ground, and make Brogan choke when he turned on his TV.