Darren Barnet Ethnicity Novels & Stories

Darren chuckled. "Please don't be so formal. Call me Darren." Sarah nodded her head before turning to her mother who was still confused by the exchange of the duo. "Mom, he's Darren Auger. He's a major investor of my college and he once visited the place so I assisted him." Easter finally nodded understanding why Sarah knew him. She thought he was just Sebastian's friend but didn't know he knew her daughter as well. "Dear, you should eat something." Easter said to Darren who was just simply drinking wine while gazing at the temptress in silence making him smile at her. He looked slightly drunk which didn't go unnoticed by Sarah.

In a trembling voice, he said, "Mr. Winchester, are you just going to let your wife speak this way?" "Is there anything wrong about what Hannah said?" With an indifferent expression, Darren raised his head slowly. He adjusted his sleeves in a carefree manner. "My grandfather only had one son and one daughter. My dad passed away quite young, and my aunt is currently in jail. So, I'm quite curious how we are related, Mr. Moore." Darren spoke these words so casually. How could he so casually bring up the fact that his family members were either dead or in jail?

“What else is there to explain, Ima?” Darren grabbed his wife's grip that had slipped. “Seriously, she is my cousin.” Legally, Maureen was indeed registered as the child of Darren's biological aunt, Natasha. The reason is none other than because Natasha and Abra's marriage is legally official and benefits both parties. Meanwhile, Maureen's biological mother, Aya, only got legally married a year after Darren's aunt passed away. Complicated. The majority of the local community still considers biracial relationships to be a close family that cannot marry. So, Darren felt safe referring to the twins as his cousins even though they were not blood.

Darren exited the prison cell and ordered the soldiers to continue the whipping work. Darren stood in front of the frowning Vander. "Brother, scratch my right hand." He passed the knife to Vander. Vander glared. He had no heart to scratch the knife into his brother's body. Even though Darren sucks, Darren is his younger brother. "I don't want to." Nancy clicked her tongue. "I'll do it." Noura chuckled. "Don't scrape the vein, Nancy." "I couldn't have killed him." Nancy scraped Darren's palm with a knife. "Half-blood has a different blood." Nancy was surprised to see Darren's black blood color with reddish spots. Nancy put the knife back in Darren's shirt pocket.

“Your father is going to talk about something important, stay here.” Darren sighed, he really wanted to take the girl away from this boring family gathering. But he couldn't help but listen to his father speak first. “We look like family, right Mr. Frank?” He was Adam Jarl, Alpha Pack Kyne, Darren's father. Of course before answering that question, Frank chuckled to break the ice. After all he thought it was a good signal to bring two families together. “Yeah, we're like two families already, Alpha Adam. I feel like we're very compatible in every way.”

Darren Dark had never been someone who questioned his own actions. For years, he had lived exactly the way he wanted or, as his wolf said, if he wanted something, he took it, if someone annoyed him, he fought them. If someone tried to tell him what was right or wrong, he ignored them. He was Darren Dark, the son of Alpha Farris Jacob Dark. His name alone carried weight, and he had grown used to people either admiring him or staying away from him.

Reacting or showing anger would only jeopardize his plan. "Thank you, Mr. Baron," Darren replied in a low but clear voice. He bent down and picked up the money piece by piece, each movement heavy with the weight of his pride being trampled on. Under his calm demeanor, Darren seethed with the desire to reveal his true identity. But he knew the time wasn’t right. Baron chuckled softly before rolling up his window and driving off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. Darren stood by the post, gripping the money tightly in his hand.

I turned to the person: it was Darren, coming out of his car wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. -Darren," I smiled at him because I was surprised to see him here. -What a surprise to see you here," he approached me, giving me a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. -I was bored at home so I wanted to come and distract myself a bit. -You're right," he smiled sideways. Darren was handsome, quite attractive to tell the truth. His hair was half curly, more or less long and yellowish in color. His face was thin, brown eyes and fair complexion. The boy was too cute. -Did you come alone?

Yet, it seemed Giovanni directed all his anger toward Darren instead. "Foreigners should stay out of our business," Giovanni said to Darren. Darren scoffed, sass embedded in every atom of that sound. He was born in Britain, and his parents were a mix of British and Italian, which was why he had lived most of his life in Italy. I wondered how Giovanni could immediately tell that Darren wasn’t fully Italian. Perhaps it was because I had used his name.

The screen flickered to life, and recognition hit me like a fist to the gut. NEVA was an industry under Basil Stockton. Darren's grandfather. Darren—the illegitimate son of Basil's own son, the one they'd dragged out of obscurity at the International Werewolf Association's gathering last month. The old man had clapped Darren on the back, proud as anything, while the rest of us watched. Now Darren's company was in trouble, and Basil was rolling up his sleeves to fix it.