Cole Macgrath Novels & Stories

I don't know, my head Is blocked, and I don't know the state of health conditions of my dad" Camilla Mendez explained, "Did you trust me?, did you have confidence In me?, did you believe I can help you?" Mickel asked, "Yeah" Camilla Mendez retorted, "Okay, as from today, eat, drink, and feel free with me, I'm your friend, and I will never harm you" Mickel said, and he smiles, and he moves closer to her, and peck her, and she left her In the room, Mickel MacLop was the CEO of his father's legitimate business, and he has a fiancee, a billionaire daughter named Harley,

Just drug dealers, drunks getting into fights and strippers, all which we expected. I find it very hard to believe that Trek could overthrow anyone’s power. That he could order a hit on a powerful man. There has to be someone else. *One more thing,* Shane says, as I see Megan’s wolf moving back to her pile of clothes. I avert my eyes, not giving her any hope that I want to watch her shift. *There have been numerous sightings of some McGraths in the area and that is a very fucking bad thing. Really bad if several are here, especially the oldest Mikey. He doesn’t work cheap and he never misses a mark,* Shane says, as my eyes go wide.

“Word travels fast, darling. Especially when you go around slaughtering my men at the docks.” I smirked, stepping closer. “Your men were trying to cart away my shipment. They had it coming.” Her smile faltered slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Those men weren’t just any men, Cross. They belonged to someone very important.” I raised an eyebrow. “Who?” She took a step closer, her perfume sweet and sharp. “Don Macaulay.” The name hit me like a punch to the gut. Don Macaulay wasn’t just any mafia boss—he was the boss of North Bay. Ruthless, calculating, and feared by everyone who had ever crossed paths with him.

"Research Dossier - Clara Mackay Full Name: Clara Mackay Lambert Date of Birth: April 22, 2002 Place of Birth: Edinburgh, Scotland Current Residence: Malibu, California, USA Family relationship: No living relatives registered. Civil Identity and Marital Status Marital status: Married Conjured: James Lambert Professional Background and Military Experience Military Service: Former member of the Scottish Armed Forces (Length of service: 1 year) Performance notes: Carried out mission with rigor and discipline; high adaptability in conflict scenarios Specialty: Advanced training in tactical combat and infiltration in high-risk areas Current Occupation Position: Field Operator - Mercenary

It was far from the depressing and suffocating atmosphere I had imagined. I spotted several other buildings with children yelling and running about. My heart thumped, and I placed my palm on it, letting out a breath as I gazed at the children. I felt a strong desire to partake in the activity going on, but I couldn't. It wasn't because I didn't want to, but I doubted they would let me. My name was Kelani Redwood, sixteen years old, and I found myself in this school, Mystic Academy, because I killed my father. This act triggered what was known as the 'Curse of the Lycanthropes,' though I barely understood what that meant.

And my mom was a significant part of me. Cindy and I talked at length about the Seven Magics Academy. I asked her to run it. She turned the offer down but agreed to teach spells and back up Heathcliff in teaching potions. Since his secretive job in a place called Demonland kept him busier and busier all the time. After further reflection, I knew the person who should run the SMA was Coco. Because of all she went through, she could be strong when necessary as well as empathetic. As someone who was previously marked, she would be excellent in a position of leadership.

{Mac Allister} I stood there at the altar, my gaze fixed upon Jacinda and Tommy (who was been pushed in his Ash colored wheelchair) approaching me. A knot tightened in my stomach. The weight of the moment was palpable, heightened by the realization that the priest standing beside me was none other than Krystallo, the infamous mafia priest known for his merciless acts.

The man standing in her grandmother's kitchen had the kind of face that made Maya's survival instincts scream at her to run. Not because he looked dangerous—though the broad shoulders and calloused hands suggested he could be if he wanted—but because he looked safe. And safe men, Maya had learned, were often the most dangerous kind. "You must be Maya." His voice was deep, rough around the edges like sea-worn stone. "I'm Finn MacAllister. I've been maintaining the property."

McGillikin was a 1982 graduate of Roosevelt High and a 1986 graduate of the University of North Carolina. Martha opened the other two links and they, too, were about the same incident. She tried several more search engines, but found nothing more than the same three articles. Her eyes dropped to the newspaper Sydney had picked up at the house. The banner read The Journal News. Her eyes jumped to the date. Tuesday June 17, 1986. She unfolded the page, scanned it again, and in the lower left corner on the back side under obituaries she found a listing for Robert Scott McGillikin, 22, of Yonkers, NY. AT LUNCH, I NOTICED THAT SYDNEY HAD CHANGED. She was now quiet, serene. Her cheeks were still f

"You aren't even going to get me to ride on that thing Gio McLoed never." Gio laughed until he turned around. Standing beside Becky was a walking wet dream of a woman. "Hi, there I'm Gio McLoed." The girl smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat. She was definitely 'pretty in pink' then he realized what she'd just asked him. "Are you from the Clan McLoed and four hundred years old?" He laughed and said "There can be only one." She laughed and bounced on the balls of her toes. "Do you have an ancient white Katana in this dwelling, Gio McLeod of the Clan McLeod?"