

Joe Holt, the fearsome legend of the mafia underworld in the past, has recently gotten released from prison after serving his sentence. He washes his hands of his sinful past and decides to become a law-abiding citizen so that he can spend the rest of his life with his wife, Lily Archer, in peace and quiet. He even finds himself a job as a delivery trucker in order to earn honest money.One day, Joe happens to come across an owner of a BMW, who's used to bullying others in his daily life. The owner wastes no time in jeering and humiliating Joe verbally.When Joe's old friends receive word of the incident, they hurry over in an attempt to back him up, but Joe merely waves a hand calmly and refuses their help. He intends to stick to his principles by not causing any chaos and conflicts.Joe is bent on severing all ties with the mafia underworld as well as his past. All he wants to do now is protect his family and live out his life in peace and stability.

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.