Cassandra Savage Novels & Stories

All of the disastrous past that I've passed and all the hell that I've been through, it all led to a beautiful mess called Savannah Canterbury. Savannah Coleen Canterbury Wilde. ~ FIN ~ __________ SFTC: And I Love Her - The Passenger

I walked over, pulled the rubber block from her mouth, and pointed my phone's camera at her twisted face. "Confess." My voice was flat. "Tell the camera everything you did. And don't leave out a single, filthy detail." Cassandra's eyes were unfocused, but when she saw the dark barrel of my gun, the will to live forced her to speak. "I... I am Cassandra Vitale... I killed Robert Rossi... and framed Isabella..." "I paid the guards to torture her... I deliberately provoked the old woman until her heart gave out..." "Isabella is innocent... I'm a monster..."

Knitting his brows together in worry and folding his hands while resting his elbows on his knees, he says, "What happened? She alright?" "I'm fine," Cassandra states as she takes a seat at her desk. She must have changed in the bathroom as she's now wearing a tight-fitting, black racer-back tank with her patrol pants that must've been her undershirt. She leans over in her chair, letting her raven-colored hair dangle. As she fixes it up into a tighter up-do, she reveals the black angel wings tattoo on the nape of her neck. I keep forgetting she has that, but my eyes immediately draw to the black ink against her skin.

134. HEA: The Savage Alpha claimed his Rebel Last Chapter Jade's POV Inching his face up, he bruised my collarbone with a red bite as his devilish eyes dared me to moan. Bloody Asshole Alpha. He was challenging me. I wouldn't mind doing it, but I was afraid he would really open the door. Zach could do it. He's done many things he said before and I was not stupid that I would try it just to see how it would really end up if I moaned.

Thankful that I can't feel anything anymore. My name is Cassandra Wright I'm 18 years old and this is my story, my life. I am from the Crescent moon pack or should I say I was until I had to run for my life. The Crescent moon pack is one of the largest packs in America and has some of the strongest warriors. My father is a werevolve and the Alpha of the pack my mother was something different a hybrid vampire-witch. And what does that make me you wonder I'm one of a kind a werewolve, witch and vampire. I'm a tribrid.

Because their people are roaming everywhere. Meanwhile, Natalie's debts are increasingly piling up at the bank. I got her money and gold at the gambling table from someone sent by Nicholo. She got stuck again with one of the women I ordered who pretended to be a millionaire and be friended her and set her up. "Aren't you tired all day facing your laptop?" Lindsay served a cup of warm drink in front of me. Along with delicious homemade chocolate bread. My eyes lit up a little and I blinked several times.

“Owe me one?” “Don’t worry about it,” Cassian said, brushing off her question. “I’m just saying, we can help each other out here.” Savannah paused, uncertainty clouding her thoughts. But the reality of her situation hit hard. She needed something—anything—to protect herself from the whirlwind of rumors Derek was about to create. And Cassian Blackwood, of all people, was offering a solution. She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s do it.”

His presence suddenly intimidating her. " Caden?" Her eyes searched for him, Caden. She saw him, his muscular physique lazily walked towards a large desk of which he opened and took out something large. She hadn't noticed what it was at first but when he came closer, she saw it and a detrimental gasp swooshed out of her lips. " Cassandra Wilson— Candidate A24. A trustee of the BDSM organisation. Sworn to die by the hands of the enemy rather than to betray the organisation itself, recently diagnosed with chronic breast cancer which is why they sent you on this mission instead— because you have less than a month to live."

Maya The moment Cassandra said the words romantic weekend getaway, I knew somebody was going to suffer, and judging by the smug satisfaction on her face inside the production office the next morning, that somebody was probably me. “You’re sending us where?” I asked slowly, convinced I had misheard her. “A private winter cabin owned by the Thorne family,” Cassandra replied without looking up from her tablet, her perfectly manicured fingers scrolling through engagement analytics like human emotions could be measured in percentages. “The audience wants intimacy now. Conflict performed well, but vulnerability performs better.”

But then I caught sight of an inscription engraved to her forehead. "Fiona, meet..." Curtis said, right before coming to a halt. "Damn," He chuckled out loud. "I forgot. She doesn't have a name." My eyes were tattoed to the engraving on her head. The etching looked red hot. I could tell that it must have hurt really bad when it was first made. The only affiliation in the supernatural community that associated themselves with the eye was the eye of Cassandra. I wondered if the girl was a seer. "She is from the church of Cassandra." I mused. "How did you manage to score one of those?"