Blink Gone Lyrics

The boy, George Larson, whom I once saved as a child, when he was struggling with asthma, repaid my kindness by imprisoning me for seven long years. "Luna, you're my everything. I won’t let you out of my sight," he said, his voice filled with obsession. He tied my hands and feet, keeping me bound to the bed like a helpless doll, but I did not love him; I wanted to escape. In his madness, he set fire to my family’s ancestral home. The last traces of the Sachs burned to ashes, disappearing into the wind. He said that since my home was gone, I could just live with him and that it would be my new home. However, because I refused to let him touch me, he found someone else—a girl with a beauty mark under her eye, just like mine. The girl, drunk on his affection, thought I was trying to imitate her by faking the same tear-shaped mark. In a fit of jealousy, she gouged out my eyes. My face was covered with tiny, bleeding holes, blood streaming down my body. When George came home, the girl gleefully stuffed me into a trash bag, proud of her handiwork. “George, look! I caught some trash that broke into the house!” George did not even glance at me. He just loosened his tie, his voice calm and detached. “Just toss it where trash belongs.”

When Dr. Ella Harper uncovers her billionaire husband Marcus’s affair with a glamorous model, the perfect marriage she believed in shatters. Betrayed by the man who vowed eternal love, Ella is forced to confront the ghosts of her past—her mother’s heartbreak and her own vow to never forgive a cheater. Determined to reclaim her strength, she seizes a life-changing opportunity to study abroad and secretly signs divorce papers, leaving Marcus a parting gift he’ll never forget: the truth, delivered when she’s already halfway across the world. “You’ll only know I’m gone when it’s too late, Marcus. Then you’ll see I’m not a woman to be played with.” Devastated by his mistake, Marcus spirals into desperation, chasing after Ella and pleading for forgiveness. But Ella, now thriving in her new life, has moved on—her heart guarded, her future bright, and a new suitor vying for her affection. Years later, Marcus is still haunted by his betrayal, refusing to give up on the woman he loves. Yet a shocking secret—a hidden child born from their fractured love—threatens to unravel everything. Will Ella ever open her heart to Marcus again, or will the pain of his betrayal and the weight of their shared secret keep them apart forever?

My son is gravely ill. His inner wolf is too weak to awaken, and the healer warns that without the Alpha’s blood to strengthen his spirit, he may not last the next full moon. He clutches my hand, his feverish golden eyes dimming. “Mother, can Father take me to the Barnum & Bailey Circus？” But no matter how many times I summon my mate through the pack bond, he does not answer. His presence in the mind-link is an empty void. I can only hold my son as his small body trembles. I whisper stories of wolf warriors and great Alphas, but his breathing grows weaker. When the dawn breaks, his tiny fingers slip from mine. His wolf never wakes. A few days later, the scent of wild roses floods our pack’s sacred grounds. I turn—and there he is. My mate. My Alpha. He strides into the hall with my sister cradled in his arms. Her neck bears his fresh scent mark. His mark. I watch as he presses a lingering kiss to her lips, his hands caressing her like a treasure. Their love is bold, shameless—an unspoken declaration to the entire pack. And only then do I learn the truth. While my son lay fighting for his life, waiting for his father’s touch, longing for his Alpha’s strength… my mate was deep in Rose Valley, tangled in passion with my own blood. I thought my heart had long since gone cold from his neglect, but at that moment, it shatters. I make my decision. I will leave this pack. Yet just as I turn to walk away, the mate who had only ever treated me with indifference suddenly drops to his knees. A broken sob rips from his throat. For the first time, my proud, untouchable Alpha weeps.

"Are you sure you want to change the bride's name to Jasmine Shaw, Quinn?" Quinn Sullivan's voice was resolute. "Yes, I'm sure. Do as I say." She sat in silence for a long time after hanging up. She recalled what she saw after her engagement party. Her fiancé had his arms wrapped around another woman in a swaying car. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, looking like he couldn't bear to leave. Quinn didn't understand. She and Nicholas York had gone through so much to get to marriage. How could he cheat on her? Well, it didn't matter. She was willing to give him her blessings since he was in love with another woman. He could marry someone else, then. She would give him the wedding of his dreams.

The day I go into labor, my husband's student, Yasmin Holden, storms off in a rage. She climbs the mountains alone while heavily pregnant. For the next three days and nights, my husband disappears to look for her. Meanwhile, I suffer a difficult labor and hemorrhage badly. I'm rushed into the ICU. When I finally wake up, the doctor hands my husband a critical condition notice. He hands me divorce papers. "Yasmin is my most promising student. I can't let her do anything foolish. You're about to be a mother, so you need to be strong!" In my last life, I refused to sign. As soon as I left the maternity ward, I reported their affair to the university. Yasmin lost her graduate school recommendation and was torn apart by public scandal. In front of me, she slit her own throat. By the time my husband arrived, Yasmin was already gone—along with the baby. He quietly handled her funeral and said nothing. Then, he returned to me as if nothing had happened. I thought that meant I was finally going to have a happy ending. But one day, he drove our car off a cliff with me and our daughter inside. That day was Yasmin's death anniversary. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day I give birth.

Liliana Patrick, a twenty three years old timid and clumsy lady who lost everything in a blink of an eye. Suffer was an understatement in her case, she had nothing, no shelter, no friends, no family. But when she steps her leg in to Kings Company, she was introduced to another world she never knew about. Nicholas King, an example of rude and arrogant, cold, dominant, commanding and heartless. The thirty years took over his late father's property after he passed away, he shows no mercy to his workers, he can fire you with just a little mistake. But when his eyes roam her body as she walks into his office, he claimed her as his. I took a seat in front of him. "Good morning Sir-" I greeted but he cuts me off. "Did I ask you to seat?" His voice, so raspy, so deep, so sensual, so husky and so......British? I never knew the Kings were British. But what took my attention were those words he said. "Uhh....." I stood up immediately. "I'm sorry" I apologize but he looks angry or something. "You came sixteen minutes late, left my door opened, sat on the chair like you own the place" he snarled at me..... okay, Mr rude. "I.....I said I was sorry" I look away from him, he shuffle and his cologne filled my nostrils, sandalwood and lavender oil. "You are not to talk back till I ask you to. Sit" he ordered and I did. He grabs what looks like my resumè, he looks at me in an instant. His blue orbs holds no emotions in his eyes as he stares at me, but what was so intriguing was the fact that he's intimidating me really bad.

“But Owen. You can’t just quit your job, sell your house, and run away with a band. People just… don’t do that.” When her childhood sweetheart Owen breaks off their engagement, quits his job and sells his house in order to pursue a career as the lead guitarist of a band, Emily’s world comes crashing down around her. Owen was, after all, her best friend and always had been. They had grown up next-door neighbours, gone to the same school, the same university. They had even bought houses next to each other. They had been each other’s first for everything. Absolutely everything. There had never been anyone else, not even for a moment. Just as Emily begins to find her feet again and form her own plans, Owen’s back up singer calls in sick, and Emily steps in to save the day. Soon she finds herself swept up in a crazy ride to the top of the music industry which might just save her relationship with Owen… or end it completely.

I've been in a relationship with Ralph Green for seven years. However, he tells me he's sick of me. He finds himself a younger and prettier woman. I don't break down or cause a scene this time. I merely turn and leave. He's confident that I won't leave him because of how much I love him. Later, he finally finds a way to contact me. "Has it been fun pretending like you've gone missing, Mabel? Hurry up and come back once you've had enough of this fit." I'm not awake. The person beside me, Ambrose Steele, takes my phone away. He holds the phone up and deliberately leans down to kiss my cheek. "Mabes can't come to the phone. She's exhausted from last night."

To save his childhood sweetheart suffering from a congenital heart condition, my mate Ethan—the storm pack’s Alpha—forced me to remove my heart to be given to his beloved. "Don't worry, you are the rarest white wolf with the strongest healing ability. I have prepared an artificial heart for you, and you will be fine." Ethan said. I tried to explain to my mate Ethan that my healing ability has become very poor in the past year, so that transplanting my heart would kill me. My mate snarled at me with disgust, "Selene is so gravely ill, and here you are, jealous and fighting for attention! She saved my life when I was suffering from silver poisoning a year ago! You won't die anyway, so why can't you help her?" Under the mandatory order of my mate, I was sent to the pack healer for the heart transplant. He didn’t know that I was the one who had exchanged my rare white wolf's healing ability with a witch to save him from silver poisoning. In the end, with my healing abilities gone, I died miserably in a forgotten corner of the empty healer's cabin.

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" burst onto the scene like a traveling circus promising wonders. The idea was plain enough: "If you reckon someone's life is a mess, and you think you can do better, go ahead and prove it. There's a reward waiting if you do." Before I knew it, my whole family had me pegged for the fool in the middle of the show. There was my mother, dreaming of turning me into some grand goose; my husband, who'd spent years dodging his rightful share of the family load; and my son, mortified by the very sight of me. They shoved me onto the "judgment seat" like I was the villain of the tale. Every last one of them swore up and down that, given my place, they'd manage my life better than I ever could. The stakes? Well, if they pulled it off, my consciousness would be erased—gone, wiped out like a mistake on a chalkboard—and turned into their personal servant. On top of that, they'd waltz off with a cool million dollars. But if they couldn't? Then I'd be the one raking in three million dollars. Now that's a gamble for the ages, isn't it?