Crow A Zavarelli Novels & Stories

Carmella said admist her nervousness walking closer. Zara nodded opening the pots, she discovered they were all empty and sigh smirking secretly, well this only proved one thing, that she was right when she perceived that Carmella had followed them, she felt proud of herself that her sense of smell was still strongly active and like always it has never failed her “you were home all evening, how come you didn’t make anything for dinner?”

Ravenna answered with her own smile. Fuck, I was going to marry this woman. Zara's eyes grew hard, her mask cracking. She took a step closer to Ravenna and I fought the urge to shield Ravenna. Zara’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she stepped another step closer to Ravenna. "Well, well, Ravenna," she said, her voice sweet as honey, but with a sharp edge lurking underneath. "I must admit, it’s such a relief to finally see you again. We've all been wondering where you'd run off to after... well, after your little incident back home." Her smile widened slightly, her words soft but heavy with implication.

Zara was an amateur, simply gliding by, while Isla was now performing serious backstrokes, moving and wading through the water like a mermaid, showing off her faultless skin and curvy body. Milan served their food at the sit out table, by the pool. They clinked glasses of their preferred wine—a Chilean white that made them light-headed, their tongues loosened from the parched rooftop of their mouth. Lunch was duck tartare, a great capellini, and cheese cake for desert; Milan was definitely a smart cook. “So, Isla, tell me what’s the plan?” Zara asked in between the meal. “Plan?” she quipped “You can’t keep being alone and single, you know.”

"Tonight. We end this." --- The Zavari Estate sprawled across acres of lush vineyards, its rolling hills covered with meticulously tended grapevines that bore the promise of exceptional red wines. Sorin Zavari, the fourth-generation heir to this illustrious family legacy, took great pride in overseeing every aspect of the winemaking process. From the careful selection of grape varieties to the precise timing of harvests and the artful blending of flavors, the Zavari wines were renowned for their complexity, depth, and unmistakable character.

ZARA **Warning episode containing memories about abuse and rape.** We had been running the whole day after we early left Alpha Chase's pack. Grandpa wanted to put as much distance between the Alpha and us. When it gets dark, grandpa finds a safe place to sleep for the night. He found a small cave hidden behind a waterfall that ran into a small lake.

I already knew what Levi was planning; he had informed me when I arrived. "Levi says he has another surprise for me," Zara said, seemingly a bit worried about it. "Oh? That sounds promising," I replied. "Where to?" "He says we should meet up at Martino's," she sighed. "Then that is where we'll go," I replied, taking her hand and heading to the door. Martino's was a small Italian restaurant, just around the corner from the boutique. Levi had already left to get us a table. My gaze shifted to Zara as we headed down the street. Zara's long raven-black hair appeared disheveled, as though a crow had nested in it; her swollen red lips and smudged lipstick created a red stain around her lips.

"Maybe she just prefers younger guys. We should have had you go to her instead. But it’s a lost deal now, so we have to think of another way. How about the Michele’s?" "They hold twelve percent and the last time we went to them—" "They wanted a bigger profit than what they’re offering." I hiss through my teeth, wondering if the world has always been so greedy. "We aren’t currently stable to buy it from them," Zack says, and I nod, drumming my fingers against the desk before I open my mouth. "How about we just lend it and then buy later?"

“Good day?” I nod, kicking off my shoes by the door. The warm air inside the house wraps around me, carrying a smell that makes my nose wrinkle immediately. I inhale again, just to confirm. “What are you making?” I ask cautiously, walking toward the kitchen. “Eh.” Zara grimaces. “Nothing.” That’s never a good sign. “I tried making ravioli,” she continues with a defeated shrug. “Burnt it to a crisp. Honestly, I didn’t even know something could turn this black.”

This place is intentionally a special place for Zaverio, the view of the lush forest is not the best choice, and the air looks too fresh for the lungs of an old man over 50 years old to breathe. Zella walks first and is followed by two people dragging the body of Aveiro, who has fainted from the anesthetic they gave him. Zella watched as Zaverio's body was tied upside down at the end of a wall with no barrier. All Zella had to do was break the rope binding Zaverio's legs; the old man would surely fall to the bottom of the ravine with a broken body. "I want every drop of blood and scream to be heard loudly from your mouth," growled Zella who was staring impassively at Zaveiro's face, who had