73rd Hunger Games Novels & Stories

I pulled on my leather pants and sports bra and headed downstairs. Today was for hunting. I had lost the first game to Gardenia. I walked downstairs nonchalantly and into the open field where the audience and spectators had gathered. Thane sat in his throne, Jairus on his left. The throne on the right was empty. The rules for the second game was stated out. Two hours to hunt. The one with the most kill wins the round. We entered the forest through separate routes.

All I can say is, Hunger Games eat your heart out. “Tonight we are, of course, honoured to have our guest of honour grace us with her presence this evening. Our first and only three-time winning champion, the lovely and deadly, Blackheart,” he says proudly as he gestures to me while the room claps. I nod graciously to Hexton and the room of people who are calculating all the ways to kill me. Laughable for Hexton to make it sound like I or anyone else here had a choice in showing up.

"What did you think lived there?" "Who are you?" she asked. Something shifted in his expression — so quick she almost missed it. Something that might have been surprise, as if he hadn't been asked that question in a very long time. "Kael," he said. "Seventh god of war. Currently fallen, stripped of divinity, and apparently summoned by a mortal girl in a cold room." A pause. "You may want to be afraid." "Should I be?"

It is clear that Hannah’s betrayal is still fresh in everyone’s mind, not just mine when Andreas vehemently agrees. A sudden commotion catches my attention as a deluge of chattering mums with buggies suddenly enter the café. One little boy, a real cutie who looks to be about three or four years old, spies Stix and runs across to her with a grin on his face. “Nic Nic, are you going to read to us again?”

I’ve hear yelling, screams and gunshots echo off the walls making me very aware that I’m not in a place a women of my station should be. I am the ex wife of the Nathanial Alexander King, mother to the heirs of the King throne in the world of mafia men and I should not be here. Who ever has me will soon realize they made a huge mistake in keeping me locked here when Nathanial or my boys come to get me. I don't know how long l've been here but I know its been for some time giving that I've started to loose weight from not really eating anything. Whoever has taken me only brings some kind of slop looking food in a bowl every three or four days and only gives me a single water bottle that has fr

"Winston, don't think too much. Aryanna stole all the supplies and fled. She is not worthy." Winston laughed mockingly, "Nothing big deal. "Take a note, this person passed away about three years ago! "OK, let's call it a day. Vivian is waiting for me at home for dinner."

phone to text X, What is Slim doing outside the penthouse? Ellie is pouring everyone's glasses of wine and walks over to me handing me one, “You’re so lucky Millie, I’m jealous.” Of what? This lonely penthouse? Of the anxiety that comes with loving this man who’ll never love you back? Or are you jealous of the insane amount of drama that comes with it all? Nothing to be jealous of Ellie… I say none of that though, I just give her a small smile and thank her for the wine she handed me. I feel my phone vibrate in the back pocket of my shorts. It’s X. Just extra protection baby, nothing to be alarmed by, I have my guys in rotation for tonight. I roll my eyes at his text although h

We head out towards the armored SUV and I start it up. I haven’t seen the rest of the Gammas since my return, and hopefully they’re all not worked up like Levi here. The brides were an unwelcome addition to our peaceful lives, and I know they feel the exact same way as me. We don’t want this but know it would benefit our Alpha. “Section 33 today?” I ask, and watch as Levi reaches for the tablet on the dash. “Six unpaid tributes, three late for the last two months,” he says as he scrolls down the list of our debtors. “Ex Rogue packs.”

"Y-Yeah... why?" "Maybe there are clues in the notes. Is it still with you?" "I threw it away," she said, then switched the T.V. channel. She doesn't like late night shows anymore. More dramas and nonsense shows. "Oh," her friend said regretfully. "Keep the notes next time. You know... maybe one of these days he might introduce himself in a note." "His name is Third. That's always on the note, eh." "So, do you know anyone who has the same name?"

Dante Moretti had not slept in three days. Not properly. Not since Amara disappeared. The city of Sicily had become restless beneath him, every street corner carrying whispers of war while his men tore through ports, casinos, underground clubs, and abandoned properties searching for her. And still— nothing. Which only made the rage worse. Dante stood near the massive windows of the temporary estate he had taken over outside the city, one hand gripping a glass of untouched whiskey while the storm outside battered violently against the cliffs.