Novelas y relatos de Cillian Murphy Jonathan Crane

“He’s coming in to testify. On record. On camera. If Crane wants to play games with the past, we’re about to write it in ink.” Across the city, Crane got the report twenty hours later. Subject: Cyrus Wynn — Verified Alive. Confirmed Contact With Ward. Crane didn’t shout. Didn’t curse. He simply stood from his desk, walked to the window, and stared out at the lights of Geneva. Beside him, Mirra asked, “Do you want him neutralized?” Crane didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly: “No. If they’ve brought him back into the light… then I’ll let the light judge him.”

This single tube I found at a gas station nearby is a godsend but it’s running out. I quickly chuck it inside my drawers when the elevator dings. A bruise on the cheek is easy enough to mask but a split lip is harder to hide. I bow my head when Mr. Cane walks down the corridor. In the corner of my eye, I could see him sauntering over. He really is meant to be on a runway or at least in a studio making commercials or a film. Maybe he can be a leading man type? Hmm.. maybe an action star? He looks like he works out. He’s got this lean but muscular figure. No, no.. he’s more suited to the broody and sexy roles. Almost like he could snap you in half if he wants to but in a darker way. And those

Damian released her instantly, turning away. Adrian’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Sir, Mr. Crane is here to see you. He said it’s urgent.” Elena froze. Julian. Of course. Damian’s expression darkened. “Send him in.” “No,” Elena said quickly, stepping forward. “Please. Don’t—” But the door opened before she could finish, and Julian Crane strode in, all smug confidence and expensive cologne. “Ah, Mrs. Cross,” he said with a smirk. “Always a pleasure. You look tense. Trouble at home?”

Jenny nodded then felt immediate relief and hope at what her mother had said. "Thank you, Mama," was all she could say. ***** JASON sighed heavily as he stared at the tombstone of Ara's grave. “Ara, I know you and Daniel are happy now. I guess I did the right thing not to fight for what I feel for you back then. Because in the end, until the next life you two will still be together, and I am so happy for you guys,” the other side of Jason's mind as he quietly watched the flame of the white candle that he lit.

The woman asked. “We've come to see Jonathan Crane. We have some questions for him.” Nick said, regretting that he'd have to kill the pastor before a witness. “I'm his wife, Mary Crane. Come in, let's talk.” The woman smiled, although the smile didn't reach her eyes. Nadine thought she looked uncomfortable. Nick and Nadine followed her in. In the sitting room, two young people sat, looking every inch as uncomfortable as their mother.

His hands on the table were still and open, the deliberate posture of someone trying very hard to look unthreatening. The second was younger, thirty maybe, with the same careful stillness. They were related. The set of the jaw, the line of the nose. Father and son, or close enough to it. They both looked at me the moment I walked in. Not at Cael. At me. It was the kind of look that made my spine straighten on instinct. Not threatening. Something stranger than threatening. Something that felt uncomfortably like recognition. "Ms. Crane," the older man said. His voice was low and careful. "My name is Edmund Farr. I apologize for the way we arrived. We needed to reach you without being tracked a

Cillian’s view. “Wait,” barked Mr. Cillian. He’d stood, and was approaching Mr. Daffodil. “I’ll let this go, but I want to show her what I did to her family after they died. Not to worry, Mr. Daffodil. I’ll pay your master back for both of his lost investments.” “Both?” repeated Mr. Daffodil, a moment before Mr. Cillian slit his throat. Mr. Daffodil fell to the floor. Mr. Cillian crouched down, pricked his finger, and drew a circle of blood around the corpse. Then he drew a circle around himself and closed his eyes, as if meditating.

The city spreads below us through floor-to-ceiling windows. “This is insane,” Harper says. “All of this. The attacks, the lies, the public warfare.” “Welcome to my life.” I try to smile. It doesn’t work. Nathan’s laptop pings. His expression changes. “What?” I ask. He turns the screen toward us. Breaking news footage. Police escorting someone from Crane Enterprises. Lydia Crane. Hands cuffed. Face twisted with rage. The headline scrolls: LYDIA CRANE ARRESTED ON MULTIPLE CHARGES. MARCUS HALE WARRANT ISSUED.

"I don't think so. They look fun, but I'm seeing unfamiliar faces. " He nods and looks back to the group chatting as he calls their names to me. "That one is Gabriel and the one with the brow piercing is Jace. They're rarely with us, probably why you don't recognize them. " "Possibly. " I agree, taking a sip of my drink and he rubs my arm before he joins the conversation. They talk about movies and sports, and when I start to get bored, I look out the kitchen entrance to the living room and bitterness fills me at the first sight I see. A brunette has her hand flung over Alex's shoulder and the urge to peel them off is strong within me.

"Which means the ones you'd need aren't here yet." "Maya," Sloane said quietly. Approving. It was the first time. Crane sighed, and put his tablet face-down on the bench, and became a different man in the space of that one movement. Not angry. Just done pretending he was the sort of person who explains himself.