Clementine S3 Novels & Stories

BEEP! Isang busina ang pumukaw sa atensyon ko. Agad na lumapit sa akin si Calista at sabay namin sinalubong si Crimson. She just got out from her maroon Chevrolet Volt. She was wearing a beige pencil cut, topped with a white long sleeves and a beige blazer jacket. Mukhang kagagaling lang niya sa opisina.

Lucian frowned and tuned our hearing over to listen in. “Hi, what can I get you?” Clem asked politely. “A glass of Sav Blanc and you out of my way.” “I’m sorry?” “You’re Clementine, right?” Clementine picked up the bottle of white with poise as she gracefully poured the woman a glass of wine. “I am.” “Good.” Cassie picked up the glass, took a small sip, and then threw the wine all over Clementine. I snarled and jumped out of my seat, then was next to Cassie in a flash. “What the hell is going on?”

SANCHO Something's wrong. Clementine tries to look okay, making small conversations here and there. She’d try to smile, she’d try to ask me how my day was and all that. That’s the thing. She is trying. I wouldn’t want her to try and look okay when she’s not. I can tell with how she hesitates before she smiles and the little pauses she does before she talks, thinking what to say next.

She had several options, but tonight, she wanted something sleek yet comfortable. She had already made up her mind on her black Mercedes-Benz AMG GLE 63 S Coupe before stepping out. It was a beauty—elegant yet powerful, with smooth curves and a bold front grille that made it stand out. The glossy black paint gleamed under the garage lights, giving it a sophisticated but intimidating presence. The tinted windows added an air of mystery, while the silver accents along the body gave it a refined touch.

It had asymmetrical buttons down the back and a neckline just wide enough to look like she didn’t care about rules, which was exactly who Clem was chaotic, beautiful, and unapologetically herself. I pulled the sweater close, pressing it gently to my cheek. It still smelled like her. Clementine didn’t wear perfume, but somehow she always carried the scent of citrus and old books and something vaguely forest-like, earthy and sharp. "I hope you’re safe, Clem," I whispered, the words trembling in my throat. I hope she doesn’t hurt you. My jaw clenched. My pulse throbbed beneath my skin.

6 weeks later *Cynamon* The crisp morning air fills my lungs as Evangeline and I stroll along the wooded path, Clementine nestled comfortably in her stroller. The vibrant colors of autumn leaves blanket the ground, crunching softly underfoot with each step we take. Clementine gurgles happily, her tiny fingers reaching out to grasp at the golden rays of sunlight filtering through the trees. "She's growing so fast," Evangeline remarks, her eyes filled with warmth as she looks at Clementine.

She doesn’t want to add more of it. “If you think Mateo Bruce is like a prince that you meet accidentally because he dressed you up and gave you pieces of jewelry. Well, think again, my dear little stepsister. Because he is not.” “Can you just stop, Clementine? At least for tonight? I’m not comfortable enough.” Clementine smirked with her red lipstick. Her bold eyeliner just added more sharpness to her eyes. “I won’t stop, Beatrice. You will never be enough for Mateo. You are innocent, weak, and stupid.”

and his mother says, "Buy for me too, Liam; not only Cynthia is the baby of this house." "Okay, Mom," Liam smiles at Cynthia and walks with her to his parked cars in the garage. "Which car should we use?" He asks Cynthia, and she gestures to his black Mercedes G-300. Liam grabs the car keys from Israel and chooses to drive Cynthia outdoors on his own, although he has no idea where she can obtain ice cream. Liam walks to the side door, unlocks it for Cynthia, and lifts her into the car to sit while properly locking her seat belt before closing the door.

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?

Not today. "I'm fine," I lied, my voice small. "Just thinking." "You're doing more than thinking," Clementine said, shifting in the passenger seat to look at me. "You’re vibrating. Is this about the guy?" Before I could come up with a distraction, Clementine’s expression shifted. Her eyes widened, and she sat up straighter, her nose nearly touching the windshield. She pointed at a black sedan a few car lengths behind us. "Wait. Isn't that Jeremiah’s car?" she asked.