Novel & Cerita Dead Set Ink Reviews

Only the mess and my battered body remained. As I curled on the icy floor, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Sofia. "Ella, see that? Vincenzo believes me in the end. So what if I lost the baby? I still have him and the entire Camorra family behind me. And you? You're nothing but a cast-off no one wants. A bitch like you deserves to die!" I picked up the phone and typed three words. "As you wish." The moment it was sent, I deleted all our chats and that number I'd had for eight years.

I whispered, my resolve to kill him on the wedding night strengthening even more. He still didn't reply, and, accepting my fate, I let the attendant direct me towards the enclosed space. I cursed under my breath as the attendant unzipped the cover of the dress, then let it fall away. My lips parted as I took in the dress. It was dark red, like the colour of dried blood, but it was beautiful. It looked like something I would have chosen to get married to Andrew in. I closed my eyes as the assistant carefully wore it on me, then gently fixed the buttons behind and smoothened the lace over my body.

"I need to order one hundred custom seals. Engraved with 'Blackmoon Pack's Slut.'" "And I'll need your special enchanted ink. The kind that carries the permanent stench of shame and exile. And I need it immediately."

“Is it an Alpha thing?” “It’ a Fyrestone thing,” he grunted, “to be honest you shouldn’t be seeing them, you’re not…” unable to stop his eyes flickering with ruby shards when I followed the intricate, maze-like path of his ink. I’d never seen ink so black, it was fascinating. Knowing that teasing along the inked lines made him twitch with desire. It was a powerful sensation. I’ve been starved of that lately. I’ve been a ship tossed on the waves, but now in this bed with Dex, I can take some control

I had no more time. IN SWEET LIBERTY’S BAR... Laura's p.o.v. I was looking everywhere. I knew how the stupid bastard Richard Valentino looked like. Another handsome scoundrel. A killer. And then I saw him. High. Muscular. Handsome man. A killer. He had tar-dark hair, which must have driven the girls crazy. But not me. His coal-black eyes looked at the bartender and told him something. 2 minutes later they brought him his order: Gin and Dubbonet. Specifically, served with a slice of lemon, two ice cubes and every last pip taken out.

She felt nauseated. She felt movement in her hand near these bodies. She did not know when someone came and sat next to her. Due to the darkness, she could not see the face of that person, but yes, she could definitely see the eyes, which were shining green in the darkness. The rest of the eyes were black, maybe that's why she could only see the green eyeballs. In fact, there was no color at all around him, as though someone just covered her entire body with a sheet of black ink. It looked really creepy.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

Layla's fans sang her praises, saying that she was kind, beautiful, and the best sister in the world. It was raining on the day they cremated my remains. Layla carried the urn containing my ashes and pretended to shed a few tears. I moved toward her. Then, I tried to punch and kick Layla to try and get her hands off me. It was so revolting. Everything about this world sickened me. I dropped to the ground after having exhausted myself. Then, I watched as they put me inside a small box. The words, "Our dearest daughter, Hazel Larson", could be seen on the rectangular tombstone. How ironic.

I’ll be coming for him tomorrow Jason can have another day off. As we are wiping down the mat I notice a group of men deep in discussion still hanging about, scars trail up their arms to their shirt sleeves. A handful even have them on their faces. They must be Blood Moon pack warriors. No one else has warriors that tall, large, and ruthless. Dad clears his throat and I get back to our task at hand and help him carry the mat inside. Once put away we head home. I wave goodbye to Hudson and Bailey and walk with dad.

DAWN’S POV I was seated in the throne room, watching as the elders and gammas of my pack whispered among themselves, unable to believe that their alpha was dead. I assured them that he was dead, but they demanded to see his body. "I want to see his body! How can we believe he is dead without seeing his body?" one of the gammas said, with a tinge of desperation in his voice. "You don't need to see his body. Trust me, he's dead," I replied with a cold tone, trying to hide my smile.