Dark Souls 2 The Lost Sinner Novels & Stories

I touched the ground with a thud and scanned the area preparing to murder whoever had witnessed my super woman act. Satisfied with the environment, I jogged towards the flight of stairs and descended down two at a time consoling myself with my hyper Bitch mode that would disappear if I saw a lizard. God, I hated the creatures, they brought hell out of me. I could hear the sad beats of my heart pounding loudly as a result of fear that I refused to give attention. "Now you are fucked up, you did this to yourself, " my subconscious screamed at me.

My wolf howled in exhilaration, relishing the freedom of the run. But, even in the midst of the adrenaline-fueled sprint, I couldn't escape the consequences of my actions. Images of Elora's tear-stained face flashed before my eyes, and guilt started to creep in. How could I be so heartless to her? She was innocent, a victim of my mistakes. The weight of my responsibilities as an alpha felt heavy on my shoulders. As I slowed down, the anger began to dissipate, replaced by remorse and a sense of duty. I needed to make things right, to mend the broken relationships I had caused. Luna deserved better, my son deserved better, and Elora deserved a chance to feel loved and accepted.

“Before anything happens… what’s your name, little thief?” Shania swallowed hard, lips parting under his thumb. “Shania,” she whispered, voice breathy. “My name is Shania.” A low, approving rumble vibrated from the chest behind her. The twin in front smiled—slow, filthy, and full of dark promise. “I’m Damian,” he said, thumb pressing just inside her lower lip for a moment, letting her taste the salt of his skin. “And this is my brother, Killian.”

“Per favore accetta le mie scuse sincere, non volevo perderlo, questo è il mio ultimo desiderio, (Please accept my sincere apology, I didn't want to lose him, this is my last wish),” The next I heard was Domenico shrieking in pain as Luciano stroke cut over his neck vein, his blood travelled down in a tsunami and I couldn’t look at them any longer. Something in me had me screaming to stop it down but on the other hand, that same thing seized my senses; that was fear of being killed.

The footsteps stopped just at the edge of the light, and a voice drifted out from the shadows that sounded like grinding stones and static. It was clearly being filtered through a high-end voice disruptor that stripped away any hint of the man’s natural tone, leaving behind something that didn't sound entirely human. “A gaze like that would make me think you are here to kill me,” the voice said, the distorted words hanging in the air.

Of course, the little girl was in no danger but what better way to get him mad than to threaten his child. "Get out! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!" I simply nodded, a grim smile touching my lips. ''See you around, Tommy boy" I turned and walked out, leaving him fuming. The moment I stepped out of the building, the composed Tristan Walker, the intellectual professor of Heldon vanished. The old Tristan, the one who navigated shadows and understood the need for brutality and the demons of the city rose to the surface. It was a side that I had buried until one of mine had been touched.

As long as Vincent clung to life with one kidney, he’d join her, charged as an accomplice to kidnapping and murder. This time, I’d be sure to wish them a long, happy life together—behind bars. Realizing her situation at last, Denise dropped her gaze and stopped meeting my eyes. Her face was pale, drained of any fight, as she followed the police out. … With my revenge complete, there was no rush of satisfaction, no real sense of triumph. It all felt strangely hollow.

Karmaa had come back for Aslan. “No, you won’t. You will only understand it your way.” She stood up and he stood up with her. She wiped her eyes and said, “I lost everything on this poker table, didn’t I? Now I will win everything back. Mr. Aslan Parker. I bet myself, and if I win, the prize is my freedom.”

I was lost in my own world, immersing myself in the rhythmic flow of the workout. "Are you trying to trim your body for a new lover?" The voice startled me out of my daydream. I turned cautiously, as if afraid of meeting the owner of the voice, even though I knew exactly who it was. I could recognize that voice even in a coma. I was too stunned to react, but now sheer terror flooded me as my gaze locked with a pair of hauntingly familiar dark gray eyes that struck me with recognition.

Only if I had known my soul would have been sold for nothing, I would have ended it. The room hadn't changed a bit all these years. Same dark walls that made the room intimidating and the absolute perfection in the way it was organized just as its owner, hiding all that evil just barely underneath the surface, simmering and waiting for the perfect time to strike its prey. I repressed a shudder and took a seat waiting for him to notice my presence in the room. He was writing in a journal on the desk, I had always wondered what he wrote in there, the number of people he killed, or the latest mission he accomplished?