Book Living With The Enemy Novels & Stories

I realize tears are streaming down my face and I wipe them with the sleeve of my shirt. “What did you need these for?” Andrew asks before handing the list to James. I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Because I am part fucking witch and I need to learn how to control my powers, or I am going to blow up the whole fucking pack. But there is only one book about witches, and it is a children’s book, and it is checked out.” James kicks his feet up on the bar, “Which children’s book?” “The Werewolf and the Witch, or something like that.” I mutter.

I thought. “Brother Logan! Brother Logan! Why are you always carring this book everywhere with you? I also noticed that you use the book more after a war or a raid,” I said. “Do you want to know the contents of this book, Luke?” Logan asked. “Yes yes yes!!” I sat on the bed. Logan sat on the bed. “This book contains a group of dangerous alpha’s I’ve fought or the alpha’s I wished to fight one day.” He opened the book and showed me several alpha’s roll he got to his favorite one.

My thoughts drifted to the past. The machine guns and bombs blazed all around. Ambush. We fell right into it. I had one more day and I was out. One more fucking day. Screams filled the air. The scent of blood invaded my lungs. Hot desert sun burning my skin, along with the flames of the burning compound. My eyes roamed the area, death surrounding me. Nobody was supposed to know this location. Nobody but us. Yet, here we were. Getting attacked by the enemy.

“Nessuna Misericordia. Nessuna preghiera.” “No Mercy. No prayer.” I exhaled slowly. Those four words alone had buried more men than bullets ever had. I continued. “The first wolf watches. The second wolf speaks. The third wolf dies.” My grip on the book tightened. I remembered asking my father, years ago, why this chapter existed. He looked at me and said only one thing. “Because one day you may stop trusting your enemies, and start fearing your own men.” I never thought that day would come, yet here I was.

She could feel heat radiating from his piercing gaze, intense and unwavering, as it locked onto her lips the moment she dared to open her eyes. "Is this what they mean when they say keep your friends close and enemies even closer?" The question reverberated in her mind, a breathless whisper tinged with confusion and urgency. She wrestled with her thoughts, realizing, 'He's not the enemy here or my foe; that title belongs to Sheppard Choi. Victor Choi, on the other hand, is nothing more than a captivating challenge—intriguing, unpredictable, and undeniably compelling man that could easily sidetrack her from her mission at hand.'

Chapter Title: The Overlooked Reality Lena’s POV I sat in its weak light study, which lay as thick as wood fire. The enemy did not allow its last attack to cease, and though Damian did all that lay in its power to keep me out of its wrath, I did not have a shadow in me regarding it—the battle was not over. The enemy lay waiting out in its darkness, patiently in ambush, waiting patiently for its perfect target.

"Congratulations. You've officially revealed which one of you is my real friend." Micha patted my shoulder with a grin. "Glad to be of service." The mood shifted slightly as Micha leaned back, his smile fading into something thoughtful. "It's been a while since we checked the Living Book," he said quietly. My eyes widened. He was right. With the war looming over us, demons burning entire packs, and Roosevelt moving like a shadow over the realm, the Living Book had slipped my mind entirely. "It's in my drawer," I said after a moment. "We should check it. Now."

She bent down to pick it up. "The Art of Pain" she read on the book cover. "Written by Lirio Dorado." She looked up at the person who had thrown the book. It was a young man of the same height, thin, with white skin. He was dressed in a casual black coat, and a black woolen hat covered his head. She looked at him coldly, adjusting her scarf with her right hand while holding her umbrella with her left. She dared to say, "Sotomayor Jina, you will never change..."

HE FOUND HER The bookshop was called Paige & Prose.It was the kind of place that had no business existing in a city like this — tucked between a laundromat and a phone repair shop on a street that couldn't decide if it was charming or forgotten. The sign above the door was hand-painted. The windows were always slightly fogged. Inside it smelled like old paper and cinnamon and something warm that Rain had never been able to name but had always associated with safety.She had worked here for two years.She loved it more than almost anything.She was on her knees behind the front counter Tuesday morning, reorganizing the bottom shelf of new arrivals, when the bell above the door chimed."I'll be ri

Ezra noticed because the door weighed like a vault. They drove through Saint Petersburg in silence. Snow drifted across sidewalks and Ezra watched people hurry past. “Where are we going?” he asked. “A meeting.” “With who?” “Men who don’t like me.” Ezra snorted. “That narrows it down.” Matteo glanced at him. “Fear makes people honest.” “You seem to prefer fear.” “I prefer clarity.” They arrived at a dockside warehouse. Inside waited three men and a table covered in documents. The air was tense.