Novel & Cerita Arven X Juliana

Her speed and stealth makes fighting look more gracious than vicious. I look down at my Cyan and wonder how many years it'll take me to be a Violet, probably forever. The shocked gasp of the crowd had me looking up in no time, Brad is on his back while Ariana holds his Arakh pointing it loosely at his chest, his flail lying a few feet away from him. How did she manage to disarm him? “I underestimated you.” Brad says, his voice dripping with admiration. “Yes you did my Alpha” she says. In a speed that is surprisingly too fast for his size, he kicks Ariana's legs from under, the Arakh falls from her grip Brad picks it and points it on her chest.

"Avery is the brain of this family and you're the muscle, but I’m the one who knows how to get down in the mud with people like Julian, and I’m going to make sure that by the time we're done, he’ll wish he had stayed a nobody." "We need a plan that doesn't involve you getting arrested for harassment, Alexa, but I agree that we need to hit him where it hurts," I said as I looked back at the photo of Sarah’s father and felt a new sense of purpose blooming in my chest. "If Julian wants the Thorne heiress, then we should give him exactly what he wants, but not the one he’s currently sleeping with." "What are you thinking, Avery?" Andre asked as he leaned forward with a curious look on his face.

ARIA’S POV That was indeed unexpected from both Tanya and Julien. However, knowing Julien, he can be quite savage at times when someone pushes his buttons. His sharp wit and unapologetic nature often catch people off guard, especially in situations like this. Tanya's expression shifts to one of embarrassment as Julien retorts sharply at her. It's clear she's taken aback by his unexpected response, her confidence momentarily shaken. All she was trying to do was impress the Millers, but it ends up backfiring badly and I wonder what she’ll do next.

No response. "JULIAN!"

" B- but she - Juliana told me that-" " Just go, please," I begged. Arlon grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, hitting me again. The woman stood up and hurried to run but a rogue jumped on her and ripped her throat open. A scream escaped my lips, and Arlon tilted my chin up and stared at the mark angrily.

His left arm was wrapped in a massive, bloody layer of gauze, his face a pale, bloodless white from the fever lancing through his infected bullet wound. "I'm... I’m a Vane," Julian wheezed, his chattering teeth clicking in the quiet room as he tried to drag his staggering frame up from the sofa. He clutched his bleeding forearm against his ribs, his eyes wild with an aristocratic desperation. "Elara was my wife. I should lead... I should lead the vanguard into that clinic." Elara walked past him, grabbing a light tactical vest from the wall and pulling it over her old grey hoodie. She didn't look down at him with pity. She reached out, her split knuckles forcefully shoving his shoulder back

Julian’s heart would be completely broken, and he would have no other choice but to return to Ariel’s waiting arms to heal his wounds. "Perfect," Ariel whispered to herself in the shadows, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous, toxic light. Back at the VIP table, Julian was reaching the absolute limit of his sanity. Mr. Harrison was still talking about Canadian television networks and merchandising shares. Julian could see Valeria, looking around the room, seemingly waiting for Shawn to return. She looked a bit lonely, holding her wine glass, her beautiful red dress standing out like a bright flame in the dimming ballroom. Julian’s heart ached with an intense, desperate need to reach her before

Julian’s eyes darkened at my words, like a predator catching scent. “You sure about that, Ava?” he asked, stepping closer, his hand gripping my hip. I nodded, my pulse racing. “Fuck, yes.” Rae laughed, low and amused, stepping back to lean against the desk. “This is gonna be good.” Julian didn’t waste time. He grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around and bending me over the bed, my hands on the mattress, my ass up.

He wore a black tactical sweater, and his eyes—those deep-green Draven eyes—bored into hers through the camera. Julian. “Hello, little sister,” he said. His voice was no longer distorted by a vocoder. It was smooth, cultured, and terrifyingly calm. “You’re very good. Better than the files suggested.” “Julian,” Aria spat, her hand gripping her Peache ring. “What are you doing? You’re going to kill them! You’re going to kill our parents!”