Novel & Cerita Crimson Paws

I could tell they were the makeup artists Aunt Malisa had mentioned, as they entered my room and set several sleek cases beside me. With a soft click, they opened one case, revealing rows of shimmering eyeshadows, blushes in warm and cool tones, and lipstick tubes in shades ranging from soft pinks to daring reds. Brushes of all shapes and sizes lay nestled in their compartments, each one looking as if it could transform someone with a single stroke.

This time, something new had been scrawled at the bottom in black ink: My offer still stands. You know the cost of pride. Her hands trembled. But her jaw set. “Bastard,” she whispered. — Kieran sat in his penthouse, watching the city bleed gold through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He swirled a glass of red wine slowly, eyes fixed on the tablet in his hand. A live feed. Neera, sitting on the edge of her table, reading the contract. He admired her restraint. Most people would’ve signed the moment their brother was in cuffs. But not her. She was fire in a silk sheath.

"Prepare for your new prison, slave." The back door opened, and the witches jumped off the car, making way for four bulky men who lifted the cage with me in it and then carried it out. The rising sun blinded me, and I had to cover my eyes from the light, but as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, my heart stopped. Blood. The ground was painted in a raw-red color that sometimes blended with strokes of dark ashes and black charcoal. Dead bodies of young and old wolves gutted, cut, and ripped to pieces covered every inch of the ground. The four men who carried my cage walked, stomping on the torn flesh of their enemies—the wolves of Crimson Mountain Pack.

The steel muzzle of the compact Beretta remained frozen against Dante’s ribs, a small, unyielding circle of lethal intent. Beneath them, the dark, turbulent water of the lake slapped hard against the concrete piles of the boathouse, the spray rising like a cold shroud in the dim light of the single swaying bulb. The sound of Enzo’s shotgun chambering a round outside the heavy iron door echoed down the narrow stone walkway. The countdown had reached zero. The security loop had officially expired, and the wolves were at the threshold.

"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

Wolves of every size and color filled the hall until fur brushed against fur, paws clattered against marble, and the room itself seemed too small to contain them. The doors were thrown open, and the night air rushed in. They spilled out into the palace grounds, a sea of fur and flame-eyed power. The moon rode high above, silver and solemn, as the kingdom’s greatest ran as one. Paws thundered over the earth, howls split the sky, and the forest itself seemed to bow before the unity of the packs. At the head of them ran Blake and Amara, golden and silver, sun and moon, their bond blazing between them as bright as the stars.

You'd think after seventeen years, I'd be used to it. You'd be wrong. "Aria Blackwood," I read aloud, tracing the elegant calligraphy with my thumb. No one in Pine Hollow received mail with such beautiful writing. Hell, most of us were lucky if the bills arrived without coffee stains. The return address made my blood turn to ice: Crimson Moon Academy. "No," I whispered, my hands starting to shake. "No, no, no." But there it was, the official seal pressed into blood-red wax—a crescent moon wrapped around a wolf's head. Everyone knew what that meant. Every human between seventeen and nineteen knew what that meant.

They expected less for Mizu to win based on what her performance was showing. There's this group of three people in a very loud conversation, wearing a dark purple cloak with a crest of a black wolf showing its mighty canine teeth and an entrancing dark purple flower surrounding the creature— the Wolfbanes of the West House. They sit comfortably on the couch while facing some of their kohai's and boastfully saying with their loud ducky voice that can be heard throughout the area: "If I was in that game, the two of them will turn into a pulp in a single minute." the guy in the center of the three said with full of confidence.

It’s just that he didn’t know how. He could not move any more. He tried so hard but he just couldn’t move as if he was a frozen statue. His eyes were completely fixated on him. He gradually saw that in the place where Mark stood, there was now a large black wolf with black fur and crimson eyes, gleaming under the light. Blake stared in wonder at the large wolf who was making continuous efforts to walk forward but tripped on its own paws and fell back on the floor. The wolf fell once again when he was attempting to get up. Blake staggered forward reaching the large wolf and kneeled near its form and put his trembling hand towards the wolf's fur.

Pasha asked, thinking a little. - Honestly? the guy hesitated. - How many people do not tell: do not go into the forest, but they still stick around! And so it has always been. And the fact that no corpses were found ... There are wild animals from martens to tigers with Himalayan bears. By the way, there are even red wolves listed in the Red Book. Not fiery, of course, - he looked sideways at me with an undisguised smile, - but more even redheads.