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50: The Firestorm
Last Updated:
2025-04-10 14:59:29
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THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 151 - Our Fathers' War
Thornecrest Academy was dead quiet.No students.No whispered deals. No power plays in the halls. Just the wind dragging brittle leaves across the stone paths, the distant groan of wrought-iron flagpoles swaying under a moonless sky.Only House Elect remained.And, of course, Principal Whitmore and the ghosts of those who had died tonight.The underground vault reeked of blood and gunpowder.Thirteen men lay sprawled across the cold stone floor, their bodies arranged in a grotesque mosaic of failure. Some had clean, clinical bullet holes through their skulls. Others bore signs of chaos, throats torn open like paper, deep slashes carving through tactical armor and skin alike.The blood hadn’t even dried. It shimmered wetly in the dim light, seeping into the cracks between the stones, pooling in silence.Their weapons were strewn across the floor—rifles, blades, tech-embedded gadgets—all lifeless now, as useless as the fingers that had once clutched them.The vault’s massive metallic
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 150 - Degenerates On Deck
The ocean stretched dark and endless beneath the yacht, silver waves rolling under the soft glow of deck lights. The girls saw how badly beaten Samuel was, but they said nothing. Music throbbed through the speakers, but the real buzz was the game. “Truth or Dare, degenerates.” Mika’s voice rang out, perched on the edge of a table, legs crossed, a wicked grin playing on her lips. The bottle spun and took its toll. Moses had grumbled through a ridiculous dare, Fiero had thrown a jab at Samuel, and Miriam had dodged a body shot. Then the bottle spun again. It landed on Moses. The others leaned in. Joy’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve been waiting for this.” She slid a dare card across the table. "Pick someone to kiss." Moses stared at the card, the words burning into him. He didn’t hesitate, his mind already made up, though he couldn’t understand why. Mika was the first thought in his head, and that thought made his pulse quicken. Mika sat just a foot away, small, delicate, her dress
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 149: Shadows On Water
The sky was a sea of diamonds, the moon casting a soft glow over the luxurious 40-meter yacht that bobbed gently on the dark waters. The deck was bathed in warm golden light, the scent of salt and champagne mixing in the air as music pulsed through the high-end sound system.It should have been a perfect night.But for Miriam DeSantis, everything felt wrong.She sat on one of the plush deck loungers, her arms crossed tightly, a fresh cocktail untouched beside her. Because she was still shaking.Not visibly. Not obviously. But deep inside, under her skin.Samuel had pinned her against a tree.Samuel had warned her—no, promised her—that he would kill anyone who came close to her.Her fingers brushed her throat, feeling the faint soreness there.She hated that she was still thinking about it.She hated that it still made her feel small."—And then he choked the guy out until he
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 148: The Edge Of Violence
The night was perfect—until Samuel returned. The moment his eyes landed on them, his mood turned to poison. Miriam, his Miriam, was standing too close to some random guy, giggling like a starry-eyed fool. Samuel’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t the soft pink blush on her cheeks that set him off. It wasn’t the way she played with the edge of her shirt, looking like some innocent little schoolgirl. It was the fact that some pathetic fuck thought he could touch what belonged to Samuel. His fingers itched for his knives. The darkness curled inside his chest like a purring beast—hungry, possessive, starved. It whispered to him. It always did. She's yours. She's yours. She's yours. Instead, he walked forward, lips curling into an easy, slow smirk—a predator approaching prey. Miriam saw him first. Her breath hitched, her expression flashing
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 147: The Language Of Skin
The sunset bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their private suite like a wound slowly weeping gold. It spilled over the marble floors, over the rumpled silk sheets, over her skin like it belonged there. Outside, the ocean sang in time with their breath—waves crashing in lazy rhythms while the hush of air conditioning tickled the back of her neck. There was salt in the air. Coconut and vanilla, too. But mostly Fiero—a heat-soaked, clean spice scent that lived on his skin and made her feel branded just by breathing. Joy lay sprawled across the bed like a secret only he got to keep. Her bikini clung to her like a second skin, still damp in places from the pool, and her waist bead glinted like temptation between the dip of her hips. Every breath made it shift—sing, almost—and Fiero was looking at it like it was his personal religion. His forearm was braced beside her head,
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 146: Joyride
Hay Port’s Elite Shopping District was a world detached from the rest of society—a glittering mirage where even the shadows were expensive.Towering glass storefronts shimmered under the curated golden lighting, each one housing luxury brands that didn’t bother with price tags. If you had to ask, you didn’t belong.A blood-red SpitFire Lucky rolled to the curb, engine purring like a beast too rich to roar.It gleamed under the lights—part muscle, part art—and for a moment, traffic slowed. Conversations halted. A couple froze mid-selfie. Everyone turned.The doors opened.And The Six stepped out.Samuel emerged first, stretching like a cat, golden rings catching the light. His smile was sharp, slow, and too full of teeth. “God, I love watching people realize they’re poor.”“Samuel,” Joy said without looking at him, adjusting her braided bun with a sigh. “Let’s not make a scene.”“We’re the scene,” he replied, adm
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