Chapter: Chapter 25 – Fractured in the CourtyardAlice stumbled through the gym’s side exit, the rally’s roar—blaring music, screaming crowds—fading to a dull hum as the courtyard’s cold night air slapped her face. The school’s open quad stretched before her, cracked concrete benches under flickering streetlamps, skeletal trees rustling in the wind, the distant thump of the pep rally echoing like a heartbeat. Her hands still glowed faintly from the gym’s ritual circle, her wrist scar burning, the crumpled notes (Break or burn, weapon) heavy in her pocket alongside the bedroom pendant. The vision of Samuel’s ritual—lights pulsing, packs clashing, blood pooling—clawed at her mind, alongside Liam’s plea, Kane’s fierce grip, Mira’s whispered trap, Rhea’s venomous smirk, Elara’s guilty touch, and the new girl’s hiss (The ritual’s now). She was a lab-enhanced weapon, her mother’s affair with the Alpha a cult lie, Liam’s love a trigger, Mira a manipulator, Elara a complicit seer, Kane her only anchor. The courtyard’s silence felt like a tr
آخر تحديث: 2025-11-02
Chapter: Chapter 24 – Shatter in the GymThe gym doors swung open, and a wall of sound crashed over Alice—blaring pop anthems, cheers roaring from a sea of bodies packed into bleachers. Strobe lights cut through the haze, painting the crowd in slashes of red and gold, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and a metallic tang that set her teeth on edge. She’d fled the classroom’s suffocating notes—You’re theirs, weapon—and Elara’s vision of Samuel’s rally ritual, Rhea’s venomous taunt, Mira’s sly note, Liam’s desperate text (I need you), and the new girl’s hiss (Samuel’s watching). Her wrist scar pulsed, a reminder of the truth: she was a lab-enhanced weapon, her mother’s affair with the Alpha a cult-orchestrated lie, Liam’s love a trigger, Mira a manipulator, Elara a guilty seer, Kane her only anchor. The pep rally was no school event—it was Samuel’s stage, and she’d walked right into it.She pushed through the crowd, elbows bumping sweaty shoulders, her backpack heavy with the crumpled notes and the pendant from her bedroom. H
آخر تحديث: 2025-10-28
Chapter: Chapter 23 – Cracks on the wayAlice jolted awake, her heart slamming against her ribs like a trapped animal. The room was dim, fairy lights flickering weakly over posters that peeled from the walls, the creaky bed tangled with sheets that smelled of lavender and sweat. Last night’s truth clawed at her: she wasn’t a hybrid born of love, but a lab-grown weapon, forged by Samuel’s cult to burn the Crimson Moon and Lunar Howler packs. The vision of needles, her glowing scar, Mira’s text (Come back), Elara’s guilty call (I helped them), and the new girl’s whisper (The rally’s their trap, weapon) haunted her. She rolled over, breath shaky, and froze—a silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon with claws lay on her nightstand, not hers, glinting like a threat. Her wrist scar pulsed, and her stomach churned. Someone had been here, in her room, while she slept.She swung her legs over the bed, feet hitting the cold hardwood floor, the shock grounding her for a moment. The house was silent, Sophia likely still locked in he
آخر تحديث: 2025-10-25
Chapter: Chapter 22 – Fire at Home Alice stumbled through her front door, the familiar creak of the hinges lost in the storm raging in her chest. The cafeteria’s chaos clung to her—Liam’s text searing her pocket (Meet me tonight by the old oak), Kane’s fierce I’d burn it all down, Mira’s calculated Come to the pep rally, Elara’s quiet Listen to your heart, and the new girl’s chilling Choose wisely, hybrid. She’d skipped gym, unable to face the crowd after fleeing the cafeteria, desperate for the sanctuary of home. Her bedroom was a cluttered refuge—posters peeling from the walls, fairy lights casting a warm glow, a creaky bed piled with mismatched pillows—but it felt like a prison now, trapping her with her spiraling thoughts.Her senses were razor-sharp, catching every detail—the hum of the fridge downstairs, the lavender scent of her laundry, the thud of her own heartbeat. Her nails ached, digging into her palms as she dropped her backpack, terrified they’d sharpen again. The prophecy—Born of man and moon—swirled in
آخر تحديث: 2025-10-24
Chapter: Chapter 21 – Sparks in the CafeteriaThe cafeteria was a chaotic swirl of clattering trays, shouted gossip, and the acrid tang of overcooked fries mingled with spilled soda. Alice slumped at a corner table, her lunch tray untouched, the noise crashing around her like a tide she couldn’t outrun. Her heart was still raw from the library—Mira’s too-smooth denial of the crescent moon tattoo, Elara’s scarred palm and broken confession about her lost love Thorne, Rhea’s chilling Ask her about the tattoo, Kane’s crimson eyes burning with The Alpha’s scouts are in town. Liam’s howl echoed in her mind, a forbidden ache that tore her apart, and Mira’s unseen text—She’s slipping. Tell him to move faster—lingered like a shadow she couldn’t shake. She’d fled the library to escape their voices, their touches, but the storm in her chest followed her, heavier now in the crowded cafeteria.Her senses were too sharp, catching every detail—the scrape of plastic forks, the sweet sting of cheap body spray, the pulse of a hundred heartbeats.
آخر تحديث: 2025-10-24
Chapter: Chapter 20– Whispers in the StacksThe school hallway was a riot of noise—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, voices overlapping in a chaotic hum—but to Alice, it felt like a distant echo, muffled by the storm in her chest. She leaned against her locker, the cold metal grounding her as her heart raced from last night’s chaos: Kane’s almost-touch, Ezra’s cryptic promise, Mira’s too-tight embrace. Her senses were too sharp, picking up the sharp tang of cheap perfume, the rustle of backpacks, the pulse of a hundred heartbeats. Her nails dug into her palms, aching like they wanted to sharpen, and she clenched her fists, scared of what they might become. Liam’s howl still haunted her, a forbidden ache that tore at her heart. Kane’s words—I’d burn it all down for you—lingered like a fire she couldn’t extinguish. And Mira’s texts (I need you), piling up on her phone, felt like a warm tether and a trap all at once. The prophecy’s words—Born of man and moon—churned in her mind, making her feel like a stranger in her own skin
آخر تحديث: 2025-10-22
Chapter: Chapter 6: The Queen’s Tax Six weeks after the cartel wedding, the empire was fat and the desert was hungry.We ran three convoys a week now:Coke north, guns south, and girls when the money was good.Cash poured in like gas, and I spent it just as fast: i bought new houses, new trucks, new cages for new prizes.Tonight we sat on a ridge above I-10, thirty miles west of Phoenix.Moon looking like a broken light.Air was thick with plant smell and gun oil.Four big Peterbilts waited in a line, lights off, engines cooling.In the middle was a white Suburban, doors open, driver tied to the wheel, still breathing, just.He was a fed courier.DEA and FBI team.Carried names, roads, and one locked drive that could lock me up forever.I wanted the drive.I wanted the names.I wanted him to beg first.I stepped out of the Charger barefoot, leather skirt high, tank low, tits almost out.Dax and Lula walked with me like guards.Saint crawled behind on a leash, cage rattling, skin peeled from sun.The crew made a circle—t
آخر تحديث: 2025-12-06
Chapter: Chapter 5: Cartel Wedding Three weeks after I stole the crown, the desert crowned me again—this time in blood, cum, and cartel gold.We were running a double load across the border:Rig one was 400 kilos of pure, wrapped in coffee to beat the dogs.Rig two was $4 million cash, vacuum-sealed under fake flooring and the drop spot was a dried-up lake bed outside Mexicali.Old-school Sinaloa Vieja crew waiting for the hand-off.I rode shotgun in the lead Kenworth.Lula drove the matte-black ’69 Charger behind us, tail-gun ready.Dax sat beside me with a sawed-off 12-gauge on his lap.Saint lay spread-eagle and naked in the open bed of the second rig, sunburned raw, cock locked in the steel cage I welded myself, sign on his chest flashing “PROPERTY OF GHOST QUEEN.”The meet was supposed to be smooth.It wasn’t.We rolled in at twilight, sun bleeding behind the mountains, dust devils dancing.Twenty Sinaloa soldiers in tan armor, AKs loose, skull paint on their faces.Three black Suburbans idling behind them.Their
آخر تحديث: 2025-12-06
Chapter: Chapter 4: Queen of the BlacktopThe desert crowned me at 04:12.Dax on his knees, cock still out, Saint bleeding ten feet away, Jax gagged in the dirt, six armed men not sure who to point at anymore.Lula stood naked beside me, detonator in one hand, twisting my nipple with the other just hard enough to make me gasp.I took the Glock from Dax’s waist, shoved it under his chin, forced his head back.“Keys.”He reached slow, pulled the Charger fob from his pocket, and set it in my hand like a gift.I tossed it to Lula.She caught it, grinned, and slid behind the wheel.Engine growled alive—deep, hungry, mine.“Drop the guns,” I said.Six rifles hit the dirt.Saint spat blood and started to stand.I shot the ground between his boots.He stopped.“Jax.”One guy cut his ties.My brother stumbled forward, face swollen, lip split, but breathing.I didn’t hug him.I slapped him so hard he fell again.“That’s for the half-mil, asshole.Next time you steal, you die.”Then I looked at the crew.“New rules.I run the runs.I se
آخر تحديث: 2025-12-03
Chapter: Chapter 3: Burn the Debt The desert was black glass under the moon.The Charger sat in the middle of the old runway, engine ticking as it cooled, doors open, red inside light painting us bloody.Dax, Lula, and me, naked, sticky, gun on the dash, smoke curling like rope.Dax’s cock was still in my hand, hard again, beating like its own heart.I squeezed slow, watched his jaw lock.“You heard me,” I said, voice rough from screaming and eating Lula’s cunt.“I don’t pay debts.I collect them.”Lula laughed low and dirty, dragged a nail down my tit, left a white line that turned pink.“She’s got bigger balls than you tonight, Dax.”Dax never looked away from me.“Your brother Jax stole five hundred grand from my Tijuana run.Coke, cash, and the address of my little sister.Then he disappeared.You’re the only thing he ever loved more than the needle.So tonight, Riven Kane, you’re the payment.”I leaned in, licked sweat and blood off his collarbone, bit hard until he hissed.“Jax is dead,” I whispered on his skin.
آخر تحديث: 2025-12-03
Chapter: Chapter 2: Backseat BaptismThe crowd was still screaming when Dax grabbed Lula by the hair, cum still running down her legs, and pulled her toward the back door of the Charger.Saint lay knocked out cold in the dirt, face smashed, but no one cared about the loser now.Dax’s ice-blue eyes, red from blood, wild, locked on me again.“Get in the fucking car, shooter.”I didn’t think.I just moved.The back door of the ’69 Charger was open, cracked leather seats smelling of gas, pussy, and old blood.Dax threw Lula in first; she landed on hands and knees, ass up, cum still leaking from her swollen cunt.He snatched my camera strap, ripped the Z9 off my neck, and threw it on the floor like trash.Then he shoved me in after her; I fell hard, tits hitting Lula’s back.Door slammed.Lock clicked.Engine roared alive (someone outside started it for him).Dax climbed in, shirt gone, chest shiny with sweat and blood, cock half-hard and wet.The Charger shot out, tires throwing rocks, crowd jumping out of the way, phones st
آخر تحديث: 2025-12-01
Chapter: Novella 4: Glass & Gasoline. Chapter 1: The Pit The desert night was hot and wild—wind screaming over broken ground, smelling of burned tires, cheap drink, cheap pussy, and cheap blood. The old airfield outside Vegas was dead for years, but tonight it lived: big lights on rusty poles cutting white lines in the dirt, chain fences shaking like cages, two thousand people in cut jeans and leather yelling for meat and sex. Tonight’s big fight wasn’t written down. Dax Voss vs Saint Crowe—two road kings, settling old bad blood. No rules. No ref. Just fists, teeth, and the old pit law: Loser gets fucked for all to see. Dax came in first—6’4” of pure fight, ink from neck to hands, black tank wet through, brass knuckles already dirty with someone else’s blood. Saint came next—6’2”, hard and cut, white wife-beater torn open, scar from eye to lip like lightning, smirk sharp enough to cut. The second they saw each other, the crowd blew up. They walked slow circles, boots kicking dust that sparkled under lights. Dax spat blo
آخر تحديث: 2025-11-27
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