Broken Knight Pdf Novels & Stories

He had no idea she would do that, he had thought they wouldn't have listened to her, that he might have another chance with her. But she had. And she had completely ruined him that way. He would never find another woman like that. One who trusts and love easily. One he can easily manipulate. He can't, maybe he'll find something close. But nothing like his Zeenah. He had lost her. But not finally. He's definitely going to get her back, no matter how hard it might seem at first. There must be a way he can break her to his will. And then she can be his once more.

But Lucas, as if consumed by rage, grabbed her hair and slammed her onto the glass coffee table. The sharp sound of shattering glass, accompanied by Lilith’s scream, echoed through the room. Shards of glass flew everywhere, cutting into Lilith’s face. Blood gushed out, staining her clothes red. Her brother rushed forward to save her, only to be met with a brutal punch to the temple from Lucas. He groaned, fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and then laid still. That punch took his life instantly. Lucas stood in the wreckage of the living room, letting out low, chilling growls.

I didn't ask for anything that wasn't rightfully mine, but I made damn sure to get everything that was. I glanced at Zachary beside me, he looked completely broken. Anxious. Defeated. Nothing like the confident man I'd married. "Ella, is this really it for us? No second chances?" "That's right. We're done." I studied his face, remembering how nervous he'd been when he first asked me out all those years ago. But I wasn't that starry-eyed girl anymore. A cracked mirror can never reflect a perfect image again. Zachary and I—our story had reached its final page.

It wanted to run but more than that, it wanted her. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Leo was standing there. He wasn't holding the flowers, he was holding a handful of shredded white petals and a crumpled piece of paper. “She wouldn't take them, sir,” Leo said, looking at the floor. “She tore the flowers apart in front of me. She told me to tell you that an apology doesn't fix a broken neck.” I took the shredded remains from him. My chest felt like it was being ripped open. She was right, I had rejected her. I had let my father throw her in a cage.

I replied with confidence but only just to provoke him. "Oooh, you're still as bold as ever even when you're left with only the bones and no flesh." He said, leaning back on his desk. He took a lusty look at me from head to toe, biting his mouth. It was as if he already undressed me but with his eyes. Even when you loose a game, just make sure to dress like the winner, as confident and sexy as ever, only then you can get in the nerves of your opponent, and that was exactly what I did.

The page revealed the man’s mark. A wolf beneath three waves. Shigure dropped to one knee. “The first king.” Raiken seized the book. “How?” The glass cut his palm. Blood touched the page. New words appeared. THE RESTORED KING REQUIRES THE LAST QUEEN’S LIFE. The archive doors slammed shut. Every broken crown turned toward me. Scene 107: The Price of Restoration The crowns began whispering. One voice became ten. Ten became hundreds. Give her back. Raiken threw the glass book across the chamber.

She snatched the ring from my hand and held it up to the moonlight. "This is hilarious!" "This piece of trash is nothing but worthless iron painted to look like bronze." She snapped the ring in two in front of everyone. The metal broke with a sharp snap. "A real Benedetto signet ring looks like this." Carmela raised her left hand. On her ring finger, a solid gold family crest gleamed in the candlelight. I stared at the metal shards in my palm, then at Salvatore on the steps. I prayed he would give me an explanation.

And the only solution was a love so vast it threatened to drown him. Slowly, mechanically, he pushed himself to his feet. The tremor was gone, replaced by a deep, bone-weary ache and a new, crystalline clarity. The breakdown was over. The armor was cracked, but it was still there, reforged now from a different metal. He walked to his duffel bag, unzipped it. He pulled out the hardened tablet containing the evidence, the cipher, the truth. He powered it on, the glow illuminating his ravaged face in the dim room.

Inside, a single page, half burned at the corner, the ink faded but legible. Order given by the Crown. All records bearing the Broken Crown crest are to be sealed. Below it, in a different hand, someone had added a date and a shorter line. The Order of the Broken Crown was dissolved nineteen years ago. Dissolved. Not disbanded, not defeated. The word choice sat wrong with me. Someone had gone through the trouble of sealing records instead of destroying them, which meant someone had wanted the option of remembering later. I kept reading long after I should have gone to bed.

"And now you're telling me you want to go back to that dirt-poor mountain hole in the middle of nowhere? You just can't stand seeing me do well, can you?" I could not hear his yelling anymore. The broken bead in my palm was still warm. It came from the rosary my grandmother had carved from a tree struck by lightning, deep in the mountains. I had worn it for twenty-four years. Fire could not burn it, water could not rot it, and a blade had never left a mark on it. But the instant we scratched open the winning number, it had cracked against my chest with a sharp, piercing sound. The topmost bead, the one nearest the small wooden cross, had snapped clean off the chain.