LOGINToday I had my first kiss. It wasn’t planned. It was also with a complete stranger. As I walked through the crowded halls of Crestwood High, my heart light with excitement, I felt it before I saw it—a familiar presence, sharp and wrong. My boyfriend, Mark, was nearby and he wasn’t alone. “You’re a bad boy,” the cheerleader laughed softly. “Only for you,” Mark replied before his lips closed over hers. At that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. “Oh, Mark. Stop it. You know we can’t be seen together. What if your girlfriend finds us?” “She’s in class. She’s never late. You don’t need to worry.” My heart was heavy in my chest, but also a wave of fury and resentment crossed me. “Bethany?” Mark breathed, staring at me in shock “What are you—” Before he could get the entire question out, I turned to the gentleman beside me, placing my hands on his shoulders and pulling him toward me. He went easily, though his eyes showed nothing but confusion. I closed my eyes tightly so I wouldn’t have to see his expression any longer. Then, our lips touched. Later, I walked into my class but found,It was him… The man I kissed only moments ago in the hallway. The man I had given my first kiss to, was my professor.
View More(POV: Alexandra Vaughn)“Your Honour,” I said evenly, hands clasped behind my back, pacing before twelve jurors who looked at me as though I might cross-examine their souls next. “The defense calls it coincidence. I call it consequence. And the evidence agrees with me.”There was a faint murmur in the courtroom, the rustle of papers, the weight of silence that comes before judgment. I felt it like a familiar melody. The hum of victory.When the verdict came guilty on all counts I didn’t smile. I never do. Winning is expected; satisfaction is a luxury I’ve learned to live without.As I gathered my notes, I caught my reflection in the courtroom’s glass divider: composed, unflinching, flawless. The woman I’ve spent a lifetime creating. The one who doesn’t lose.Outside, my assistant Noah was waiting, practically vibrating with excitement. “You were incredible, Ms. Vaughn. That closing argument, I swear, if I were on the jury, I’d have convicted my own mother.”“Good thing you weren’t,”
Elena VasquezThree days.The numeral rested on my tongue like a bullet I couldn't eject.Three days.Three bleeding scars.Three subway-token rings are now secured inside the cash register as none of us dared to handle them more.The eatery fell silent once the boy departed.Not calm silence. The sort of stillness occurring moments before an explosion when even the atmosphere seems to be holding its breath.We stayed awake.Javier blocked the entrance using the worn prep table. Mamá ignited all the candles we had and arranged them in a ring around the central table as if we were conducting a vigil. Rosa and Lila went up to the roof rifles resting over their knees watching every movement in the shadows. Marco perched cross-legged, on the counter laptops active streams of code flowing from his fingers directly into the walls attempting to construct a barrier the city couldn’t escape.Alexander and I remained in the center of the circle of candles our palms joined, allowing the blood to
Marco VasquezThe water was a fist around my throat, cold and black and endless. I kicked upward, lungs screaming, but the hook in my chest dragged me down like an anchor made of ice. My laptop was gone, ripped away in the fall, swallowed by the river and with it, the last illusion that code could save us. Bubbles streamed from my mouth as I fought, but the darkness pressed closer, thicker, until the red pulse of the Heartstone was the only light left in the world.Elena floated in front of me, hair fanning like ink, eyes glowing crimson. Her hand closed around the stone. The gold veins flared, threading through her fingers, into her skin, under her skin. She smiled: Victor’s smile, but softer, sadder, like she was apologizing for what came next.I reached for her. My fingers brushed her wrist. Cold. Too cold.The hook yanked.My vision fractured. Red veins spidered across everything. I saw the network; not code, not anymore, but living. Every fragment a node, every node a heartbeat.
Victor LangThe safehouse was a concrete crypt buried beneath a defunct Brooklyn textile factory, its walls sweating damp and secrets. I sat at a folding table, the titanium drive, my drive, chained to my wrist, its encrypted heart pulsing under a single LED lamp. The air stank of mildew and gun oil, the only sounds the hum of a portable generator and the distant drip of a leaky pipe. My tux was gone, replaced by black fatigues, my face bruised from Kane’s fists, but my mind was a scalpel: sharp, cold, ready to carve.They thought they’d won. Kane, with his bleeding-heart redemption. Elena, with her Vasquez fire. Marco, the boy-genius who’d hacked my empire to its knees. Sofia, clinging to life like a weed in concrete. The gala had been my stage, and they’d stolen it, projectors blazing my sins, FBI cuffs snapping shut. But I’d slipped the trap, torched the transport, and vanished into the city’s veins. They’d burned my kingdom. I’d burn theirs.My burner buzzed on the table, screen g
ElaraThe moment the wolves charged, the forest stopped feeling like a battlefield.It became something else.A storm.Not wind.Not rain.Teeth.Claws.Rage.Dozens of wolves surged forward at once, their howls shaking the night as they crashed into the ring of hunters surrounding the clearing. Th
ElaraThe door didn't just break.Wood broke inward as if hit by a living force, then shattered. The impact expelled the air from my lungs, a forceful surge sending fragments flying across the floor. Instinctively crouching as Adrian whirled in front of me, his body a shield, his growl vibrated rig
ElaraThe moon responded to me.Not with sound but with power.It slammed into my chest like a tidal wave, driving the breath from my lungs and sending me stumbling back. Adrian cursed, grabbing me just in time, his arms tightened around me as once more my knees buckled."Easy," he said crisply. "C
ElaraI did not shout.Though part of me should have—some human instinct set for fear—that part seemed far away, muffled, like it had been buried under something heavier and older.The forest had gotten suspiciously silent.No wind, no insects, no rain.Only them.Like shadows formed, they stood at












Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.