Novel & Cerita Carrero

The driver shifts in his seat and I immediately home in on him “Why does the name Carrero suddenly change everything? I blink at him innocently and catch the narrowed gaze back at me in the mirror. The frown and then glare and yet he remains silent. “Carrero? As in Alexi Carrero?” Camilla turns my way with a gulp, pulling my arm and attention to her. Her face ashen as though I’ve said something awful. I’m completely confused.

I argued. He smiled and nodded. "I'm afraid your brother isn't who you thought he was," he said. "When he learned the truth, he couldn't help but want what we had to offer." "What truth?" I asked him. He looked at me dead in the eyes. "That your grandfather isn't Otto Müller," he said. "His real name is Wilhelm Goebel. He was the European aid to Cain's father. Your grandfather was a very powerful Lycanthrope with a lot of an influence."

"One more thing, you and your dance group will perform for him...you may choose your song...wear something, sexy...Don't let me down!" I began to cry, and mother tugged me by the hair. "What do we say about crying?" She scolded. "That its a weakness and strong women don't cry." I answered. Mother handed me a picture. "He's very handsome." I knew only three things of Carlos Romaro. One, he was super sexy, and one very sought out bachelor and millionaire of New York City. Two, he was now Capo of the New York Arch angels famiglia. And three, he is known as the Reaper of New York city, because he shows no mercy when it comes to killing. He likes to make his victims suffer painfully and sl

The person in charge of the two massive horses came down and approached us. Henry and I remained still, unsure of what was about to happen. The man stood in front of us, dressed in a classy noble suit that belied his station as a carriage driver, while he withdrew two small cards from a dimensional bag. "Hello, my name is Carl Joven, and your names are Henry Floyd and Riel Alheim, respectively?" "My name is Riel." "And I am Henry." "Here are your academy credentials. Don't lose them at any cost. By the way, my name is Baron Carl Joven from the City of Orioch."

Inside a Mansion in Rainbow City. Carl sat by the window, wearing glasses and slowly flipping through a book. His light gray suit fit perfectly, exuding a scholarly elegance. A knock on the door interrupted the quiet. "Come in," Carl said without looking up. His assistant, Duncan, entered the room. "Boss, we've got news from Amparo." "Oh?" Carl glanced up. "As expected, Amparo didn't keep his promise. After getting the Voodoo Lwa, he immediately planned to return to Mexico. He never intended to attack Yosef in France."

Aranjo chases after the butterfly and jumps into the luxurious residence. Aranjo ran after the butterfly that flew into the backyard. The butterfly entered one of the rooms in the backyard. Aranjo followed the butterfly and entered the room. Aranjo searched the surroundings but did not find the butterfly again. Aranjo looked around the room where she was at the moment. This room is a reading room full of scrolls neatly arranged in a tall wooden cabinet. "You like to read?" asked the Archer God who entered the reading room. Aranjo jumped in surprise and turned around to see the origin of a very familiar voice.

“That good for nothing piece of shit stole my spot, dad… I won’t let that asshole have the last laugh. I can’t let him win!” A drunk Carlos angrily exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table. “You should’ve killed him when you had the chance, now he’s one step ahead of you… All our years of hard work has gone down the drain.” Ignacio hissed.

She stands, and the pack erupts into cheers. "Alpha! Luna!" they chant, their voices rising in unison, as if they hadn’t tried to tear us down just weeks ago. My lips curl in amusement, but I say nothing. Let them cheer. Zoe steps forward next, her brown hair braided down her back, her expression calm but guarded. She kneels, speaking her vow as Beta Female, her voice carrying strength despite the lingering pain in her eyes. I know what she’s lost—four unborn children, ripped away before they could even take a breath. No one should have to bear that.

as she got into the car. “Sweet friends, you’ve got.” “Who the hell are you? How do you know me?” “As you read in my card, I’m Dr. Zaffran. Half Canadian, Half Irani. I’m a research scholar at the SRO.” “What’s the SRO?” "An organisation," "Of what?" “You will come to know in due time, when and if we are convinced that you can be trusted.” Zehra raised an eyebrow. “I see.” “Ms. Mahmood–”