Clipped Wings By Helena Hunting Romane & Geschichten

The twilight in Blackwater did not bring peace; it brought the awakening of horrors that the daylight kept cowed. Helena Moore was just a few meters from her porch when the air froze. It was not the cold of the mountain, but the vacuum of sound that precedes the predator’s leap. From the darkness between the pines, three silhouettes emerged. They were not the hunters from before, but something more organized, more lethal. They were members of the Iron Claws, mercenaries who reeked of dried blood and ancient hatred.

Helena, towering over them, lunged forward with a swift, powerful motion. She tackled one of the men, her jaws snapping menacingly. The others, yelping in pain, scattered in different directions, their fear palpable in the air. Helena, in her fierce protective stance, stood over me, a guardian against the shadows that sought to harm. I gazed up at her, the gratitude and relief evident in my eyes. Helena, with a nod, signaled me to get up. I scrambled to my feet, pain shooting through my body. Helena, in her wolf form, remained vigilant, ensuring the men had retreated.

Hunter lifted my thigh, wrapping it around his torso as our bodies collide. I shuddered. The way he looked at me with those eyes, the way his fingers dug into my skin like he only wanted to own me, sent cold shivers up my spine. "Stop..." I managed to utter out despite my lack of breath, but his rugged hands continued searching my skin aggressively. I whinced when he suddenly gripped my waist tighter. His claws had elongated and dug into my skin. I whimpered and knew then and there I was in my breaking point.

The air crackled with anticipation as the battlefield became our shared hunting ground. Without warning, Zack lunged at me with a lightning-fast speed, his claws extended to rend and tear. Instinctively, I dodged his attack, my agility matching his own. We moved in a deadly dance, our bodies twisting and turning, each strike and parry filled with lethal intent. I swiped at Zack with my powerful claws, but he countered with a swift dodge, retaliating with a series of ferocious bites. The clash of our fangs and the sound of our growls echoed through the night, blending with the wind that whispered through the trees.

"Camilla, you chose your own path. And those wolves… You ruined them yourself. You insisted on using your so-called comforts to strip away their claws. Once they lost their strength, of course, they’d treat you like currency to stay alive. Isn’t that only natural?" Camilla opened her mouth, ready to scream back, but before she could, the three former royal heirs had already stepped forward. They looked at the powerful army of wolves behind me, their eyes filled with jealousy and fear. Knowing they had no chance in a direct fight, the three of them exchanged a glance and made their decision. Without warning, they lunged forward together, targeting Cael at the front. Midair, I saw the glint of

I struggled against my restraints, wanting to charge at Diana to see how heartless she really was, only to have the police officer pull me back and snap, "You're at the station right now! You'd better behave yourself!" Diana threw a fit on the ground and pulled up her sleeves, revealing frightening bruises all over her arms. I had never laid a hand on her, though! Diana sprawled on the ground, yelling, "You have to help me, officers! He's lying through his teeth! Do you see my bruises? You have to know that just because there are no bodily fluids doesn't mean there wasn't an attempt—he clearly didn't succeed at it!

I wondered why she was seated near the window. She hated them, especially when they were open. That's why she had heavy blinds installed in the house the moment she moved in. I heard her mother had jumped out a window and wound up dead. Who wouldn't commit suicide with a father like hers? A terrifying Italian mob leader who had lived by the sword and ended by it. She had so much trauma. It wasn't shocking she fell in love with my father, or was it safe to say that she likely trauma bonded with him?

She said, trying to remember the vague of memory, “I'm hunting-” “The hell misty!” “My lady should let me finish my words please?” She giggled, kinda amuse. “And what's wrong hunting if it's for the love of my life?” “How can hunting be related to love, Misty?” My mind spun to the idea, given a destructive results if relates the act to love. She shiver, and somehow a thing last night came to her mind. She murmured, “So if ever, I was hunt... for love?” Misty's eyes widened. “Are you being hunt, my lady?”

I didn’t want to pull on my wings because I really liked the hoodie I was wearing, and my wings would make mincemeat of it. I caught her eyes and all I could see was anger and hatred boiling in them. I pushed with my aura so hard my hands felt like fire against her arms. She started making a sound that was close to pain and then suddenly Cash pulled us apart. I was now standing behind Cash as he faced the clawing wolf himself. “Stop it, before you get hurt!” Cash growled at her. She immediately stopped and started sobbing as she quickly rubbed the burn marks on her arms that my hands had left behind.