Novel & Cerita Bryce O'connor

Bryce watched Hera pray that morning as different thoughts wandered through his mind. Usually he would say the occasional 'amen' like he usually does every morning but now, it's like he wasn't even interested. She was going on a godamn date with that man. He doesn't care if he's a good person but the fact remains that whoever she was going out with, was not him and that's a problem.

He looked old and sullen. The man to the right of Argus was a young man, about 20 at most with slick backed brown hair and a smattering of stubble along his face. He had a few scars and tattoos on his arms. He was the rapist father to one of the breeder's children. He was forced to work as a lowly warrior rather than the higher up one he was meant to become.

It was just strange that he was submitting to me without me doing more than shove him into a tree. “He’s part of our pack, Luna,” a familiar voice called out. “Why are you calling her Luna?” Alex questioned out of breath. Alex is here? I turned my head and looked behind me. Trooper Bryant stood, though not in uniform, with all his piercings and arm tattoos on display. Next to him, trying to catch his breath, was Alex. “I told you to stay back at the house, boy. Are you deaf or just too dumb to do what a trooper tells you?” Bryant rolled his eyes.

Also seen arriving was Dermot O'Connor, cousin of Killian O'Hara, who also happens to be the country's top lawyer in these cases, and arrived twenty minutes later. It made my blood freeze; O'Connor was known for getting his high-profile clients out of tricky situations, and I was shocked to hear he was taking this case. O'Hara had been caught in the act, literally; there was no way he was going to walk away from this. I strode into the Precinct flanked by my legal team; I was Colonel-in-Chief of the most prestigious, secretive Tactical Armed Forces Team in the world; it wasn't just the most elite soldiers I could count on. My legal team made Dermot O'Connor look like a junior paralegal.

he said flatly, lifting a glass of whiskey to his mouth. Ice clinked as his fingers shifted. I couldn’t help noticing the small, bleeding cuts across his knuckles... and remembering what that man’s face looked like afterward. Goddess, Lorenzo was a sexy brute. “That’s me… Victoria Bian… Greco” I answered, standing there like I was in an interview. “About last night…” “The first time, you didn’t think the Greco family was worthy. You were too ‘precious,’” he cut in coldly, one dark brow lifting.

I didn’t answer. I knew that he did not care, Not about me, not about mother, not about anyone else. I did not even understand how she lived with him throughout all this time, but this was what it was to be me, to be her, to be raised, to be obedient, to stand for a man, to do everything for you while you just obeyed. But when my eyes found him, I almost froze. The same man who stood there… He stood at the end of the aisle, beneath a silver arch of twisted branches and moonflowers, his face carved from stone. Dark hair, darker eyes. A black suit tailored like armor.

I braced my body for his physical impact, but his hands never actually touched me. Before Caleb could close the distance between us, a very tall, broad-shouldered man stepped directly between us and completely blocked Caleb’s path. I immediately recognized the dark hair and the massive physical build of Connor Blake, the highly respected captain of the college ice hockey team. Connor stood completely still, displaying a calm but incredibly dangerous presence that made Caleb freeze instantly in his tracks. "Is there a specific reason why you are harassing my girlfriend on the public sidewalk, Mercer?" Connor asked, his voice sounding incredibly cold and entirely steady.

Ever. Thick eyebrows and unruly lashes framed his chocolate brown eyes, which twinkled with amusement as he looked down at me – because yet again, they were all freaking massive, and my 5’9” height was small compared to them. His dark hair was cut low, close to his scalp, and his high cheekbones and square chin were covered in the stubble of a neatly trimmed, full beard. I wondered if it would tickle or irritate my skin as it rasped against me? His skin was a lovely shade of reddish-brown—burnt cinnamon—and altogether beautiful. He seemed like he didn’t want to be touched when we first met, but skin like that just didn’t go untouched. Wide shoulders and a broad chest strained against the t-s

Blood had dried along her temple, matting several strands to her cheek. Her grey eyes were wide with terror. Tears streaked down her face. She looked small on the screen. Fragile. Nothing like the strong, elegant woman who ran the Moretti charities with quiet authority. A strangled sound like I had never heard from him escaped my father. “Yvette—” Her body shifted and then there was movement behind her. A figure stepped into the frame. Tall. Broad shouldered. Dark green eyes glittering with madness. Liam O’Connell.

Though I had soon changed course of action, I didn't forget them. "Many people know the six troublemakers," I replied, playing it off as casual. A smirk appeared on the corner of his lips. "That means you know me well." Connor O'Brien tied with Sir Lockwood as the most notorious; while Sir Lockwood was notorious amongst the women, Connor was known for his fist. Oliver was brutal, but he still didn't come close to Connor. Despite being born into a family that guaranteed a soft life for him, he chose the one with his fist, so while he ran the O'Brien motor during the day, he fought underground at night. Connor thrived through violence, and the few scars on his face were a testament. His grey h