73rd Hunger Games Novels & Stories

He shouldn't blame her. Asher looked at her for the first time. Really looked at her. Kimberly Blake was no longer a glossy photo, but a real breathing woman. Her long brown hair began to fly around her face as the helicopter started to descend. She tried to hold it back of her neck. One of the lights from the copter caught her full in the face.

#HAREM_OF_LUST 🔞 #CHAPTER_3 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓🍓 🍓🍓 🍓 #OMNISCIENT_POV

he hissed. I shook my head in disapproval. "Let me go, you bastard!" I cried. Meanwhile I was struggling beneath him. I was twisting and fighting. But, again, it was useless. He was too strong. The metal of the chains clicked shut around my left wrist and then my right. Panic flooded my system. "Stop!" I tried to pull against the chains. Nothing worked. Tears began to burn my eyes. "Let me go!" He came closer. I was quick to drive my left knee right up into his ribs as hard as I could.

We couldn't afford to let our guard down, not in this deadly game. As we ventured deeper into the wilderness, the darkness of the night surrounded us, and the eerie sounds of the forest served as a constant reminder of our perilous situation. But we pressed on, fueled by the memory of Jannah's sacrifice and the determination to emerge victorious. The Hunger Games had taken a dark turn, and the path ahead was uncertain, but we would face whatever challenges came our way as a united and unwavering team.

Third person’s POV “The balance has to be restored, everything has to go back to how it was supposed to be. The balance has to be restored.” Sudden chants are heard deep in the forest as the Ice moon pack members gather for games and fun as they compete under the moonlight. The voice starts as a whisper, but grows in time. Since everyone is busy cheering the wolf's who are testing each others' strength in a fight, they don't hear it at first. Zama is in the woods already in the arms of the Beta of Riverside pack.

"She's the one who asked." The study went dead quiet, just the fire snapping in the hearth and Lorenzo's heartbeat thundering in his ears. His lips parted, but nothing came. He never thought Chiara would actually let go. For five years, he'd staged thirty-three accidents, praying she'd take the hint and end the "cursed" engagement. That way, he could honor the Mortoros and still chase his own heart. So why now... did it feel like something had been ripped straight out of him?

I tell him and he moves to the edge of his seat. “If Mr. Himes was here then you definitely have an issue. They only send him when they want a problem to go away. What I don’t understand is how you are still breathing.” Xavier says to me and now I am really concerned about what I have gotten myself into. “Are you saying that I should be dead?” I asked him as I placed my hand on my stomach that all of a sudden began to hurt and growl. “Ms. Thomas have you eaten today?” Xavier asks and I know he heard my stomach growl.

It's nasty and gory, and eventually Bronte loses too much blood from her neck wound and falls to the ground, saying," I give up! She lets out a feeble rasp before two doctors charge into the arena and drive numerous moonstone splinters into the corpse of the Ounsli girl. Cynthia spins around, grinning covered in blood, and I start to feel a little queasy as the crowd erupted in applause, declaring the victor of round one to be in stone. The next two girls are announced, but I'm not really paying attention to them; my eyes are locked on the Ounsli girl, her chest heaving as she struggles for air, and I find myself touching my own neck with a shaking hand—that could have easily been me. Cynthi

As far as I know, the only clothes I have at the safe house are some outdated, probably too tight jeans, random sweat shirts and t-shirts and not even my favorite bath products! Woe is me. *** “We almost got her this time but unfortunately her driver spotted Patrick as he lounging on the library steps and I think he recognized him because next thing we know, he’s punched Patrick in the throat, grabbed the princess’s hand and ran to the car. We tried shooting them but-”

Her reflection shimmered in the polished obsidian floor, fractured and whole all at once – a mirror of the woman she had become. Damien stood beside her, wounded but unwavering, his hand resting lightly on the pistol holstered beneath his jacket. Across from them, Victor typed furiously at the console, lines of code cascading down the monitor. Isabelle patched up from their last battle, and leaned against the wall, watching Elena with cautious hope. The world was burning above them—cities overrun by AI drones, digital banners bearing Luca's face, and firestorms spreading through what remained of the global infrastructure. Phase Three was live.