The Reawakened Mates and their Quintuplets のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

KadeemSo much for winning her over. Kadeem’s hands balled into fists, white-knuckled and trembling. He watched as Ardal sped away, his rage boiling over like a cauldron set to stew. The urge to smash something consumed him, but he resisted. Instead, he withdrew his phone with a quivering hand and changed that stupid Bon Jovi ringtone. But his thoughts lingered on her safety as he scanned through his

KadeemKadeem was up until the wee hours of the morning. He and Miles took the solemn duty of informing Theo's family of his passing, and Kadeem did his best to console them. After finally departing, he trudged wearily back to the gym parking lot. Head still pounding, he fumbled for his key in its hiding spot beneath the wheel arch. Opening the trunk, he retrieved his phone and wallet before collapsing against the tail of the car in despondency. 

Kadeem Kadeem worked diligently, despite the fog in his head that made everything seem to move a little slower. He wrapped Mateo's knee and handed him one of the ice packs Dylan had brought in before Kadeem had shooed him back to work at the gym. They'd taken over one of the group rooms. Kadeem's head throbbed with an intensity he rarely felt, and even his eyes were hurting now. He let out a sigh as he flipped off the bright overhead light, allowing the fading evening light to provide just enough illumination. Rayburn was slumped over and managed to glower at Kadeem, despite the fact that he only had one good eye at the moment to glower with. He held an ice pack against the swollen eye and his nose had stopped bleeding. He appeared more than fine, in Kadeem's opinion, who had seen far worse. What's more, Rayburn was lucky Kadeem had been in enough street-fights, sparring matches, and boxing bouts to stay measured and restrained, even if he was seething with rage. Kadeem knew

Kadeem Kadeem staggered into his office the next day, but just barely. He was exhausted and his head felt achy and heavy, his mind sluggish. He put his hand in his pocket, feeling for the amethyst stone, only to realize it was still in the pocket of his jeans from yesterday - now laying in a pile of dirty laundry. He was on his own, and reached for a bottle of ibuprofen instead. He settled at his desk and scanned through his emails. The room was silent but for the gentle hum of his computer. As his gaze crawled over the screen, he began to feel more and more frustrated. The words on the screen blurred together and the harsh blue light stung his eyes. Giving up for the moment, he switched off the screen to dull the irritating light and put his head in his hands, just as a knock came at the door. “Come in,” he grumbled, unable to muster the energy to even look up. A light voice rippled through the air. “Good morning.” Greta. Something in her voice jolted him to a

Ardal I stand on my tiptoes, my hands trembling, and yank my suitcase off the closet shelf.   Jack will arrive any moment, and here I am, damn it, in a last-minute scramble!   The last couple of days have gone by at breakneck speed. With the school year’s conclusion, Erbao’s last round of dialysis complete, and a seemingly never-ending