Delilah Dagger Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Fuck him!” “What is he doing?” She wondered. She stood up and fenced her waist with her left hand, tapping her forehead lightly with her right hand, reviewing what to do. She walked back to the bed and picked up her phone. She dialed Mr. Leo’s number but wasn’t reachable. She switched on her data to send a W******p message and she received ten reports from diverse platforms, broadcasting Dimitri’s submission to Mila. She hated seeing him in the limelight of people, and she threw her phone on the bed again.

She could not forget how villagers always called her 'Abandoned Omega'. Every time she thought about it, it felt like a nightmare. By the way, where she was now was not a beautiful dream for her either. Falling in love with a Lycan was a bad decision that she could not even regret now. "Hey! You! Where are you going?" Delilah stopped and turned around. There were a few ladies. They were in maid's uniforms. She understood that they were royal maids. "Yes?" Delilah asked softly. Those maids glared at her. Her red nose and red eyes were visible to others.

Deli was hell-bent on killing my best friend. She was relentless in her assault, and I felt firsthand why she was considered the most dangerous demon assassin to walk the earth. She was also the infamous Delilah, the ancient wife of Samson, and the reason he ended up dead. Herodias' annoying commentary filled me in on this tidbit as we fought for her entertainment. I had tried to talk Mrs. Deli out of her trance, but she was too far gone to return to her senses.

Kimmelly gasped, stumbling back. But Delilah was done listening. She lunged again—this time, there was no mercy. Her fangs tore into Kimmelly’s shoulder, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. Kimmelly fought, but Delilah was stronger. Faster. More ruthless. The dagger appeared in Delilah’s hand like magic. One quick motion. The blade plunged into Kimmelly’s heart. A choked sob escaped her lips. Her body jerked, then went still. Delilah yanked the dagger free, her face impassive as blood stained the snow.

"I didn't want you to find out this way." "Well, I did." I scoffed again. "You even told him that your name is Camila. Why the fuck would you even do that?" "Because I don't want him to know I'm Delilah! I don't want him to find out that I am his assistant's daughter."

Zargov’s damn blood… whoever did that to him saved her life and also intercepted the thrill I would have gotten from doing the honors. Still—my mind refused to settle. Delilah didn’t kill him. Not with that perfect throat slice. Not with hands that still trembled whenever she held a wine glass too tight. She may act tough, but when she stabbed me with that fork days ago, it was pathetic and weak. I could’ve pinned her down with one pinkie and still had time to check my watch, if I wanted to. Whoever saved her knew how to kill. Precise. No flinching. That wasn’t street work. That was trained. Which meant someone had helped her.

I placed the glass of water beside her and said, "Mrs. Montenegro was concerned about you, miss. She wanted me to bring you some water." Riezel nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. But then, to my surprise, she reached out and grasped my arm. "Can I ask you something? What's your name?" she said, her voice low and urgent. I hesitated, unsure of what to say. But Riezel's eyes were pleading, and I couldn't bring myself to refuse her. "My name is Delilah, miss." I said, trying to sound neutral. Riezel's grip on my arm tightened. "I've noticed the way Raphael looks at you, Delilah. He seems to trust you, to value your opinion. And I was wondering...could you help me get closer to him?"

"A lady is at the main entrance. She's not part of the guests; I guess she came in today, and she insisted on seeing Beta Caleb." "A lady?" I repeated, my interest piqued. "Describe that lady," I said to Ragnar. "The closest omega," Ragnar replied. "She's the only one who could be the person. She's tall, about five to six feet tall, and she's wearing a short red gown. She said her name is Delilah." "Delilah," Caleb repeated after Ragnar, his voice low and even. "Delilah is here? How? Why? Who allowed her in?" It was as if there was a backstory I didn't know about.

Alex likes the idea. By mindlink, he calls Delilah, and when she knocks on the door and enters, she bows and shows her neck. - Alpha Alexander, Alpha Michael, how can I help? - Come in, Delilah, sit down. We need to talk to you. Delilah was a 25-year-old, beautiful, muscular woman. An extraordinary warrior who had found her mate in a young man. His mate was a baker in the pack and when he turned 18, he found out that his mate was a 20-year-old warrior. He thought she would reject him, but she was the most loving lady in the world, nothing like she appeared to be. She had a little 1-year-old pup, which her mate took care of, leaving her free time for the shifts she was scheduled to take.

We knew that there were several handlers with their disgusting pets ready to attack us, but we didn't know how many warriors might be hidden or whether there was an invasion force just waiting in the darkness. Delilah stepped up and lent her power to Zayne and Hannah. I had previously learned that Delilah was one of the original witches who joined forces with Adriana and Daemon and was mated to Renée. She must have had an incredible amount of power since as soon as the light strands came off her, the entire area lit up, and there was no longer any dark fog.