Detective Loki Prisoners

In the dystopian future, singularity is within sight, over half of the population is obsessed with a brand new psychoactive substance, and transhumans outnumber humans. Kaiser Vrix is a private eye employed to search out a computer jock with plans of taking down the whole government with one virus. With the assistance of his machine intelligence, will Kaiser stop the Hacker referred to as Thinker?

The buzzing of my phone in the middle of the night jolted me awake. On the other end of the line came a voice I could never forget. It was my daughter! However, she died three years ago!

My husband and I have been married for a decade. When I finally conceive for the first time in ten years, I realize my worst enemies are my family, who all want me dead. I've made a promise to return to the fertility shrine on the mountain and fulfill my vow if things work out, but my mother-in-law deliberately messes up the cable car tickets. In the process of hiking up the mountain for two hours, I lose my baby. In the hospital, I cry to my husband about all the vicious things his mother has done to me, but he kicks me in the stomach. "I had a vasectomy a long time ago. There's no way that bastard inside you is mine!" When he hands me the proof, I'm completely speechless. I break down in tears and run back to my parents' place. Not only do my parents hire a nanny to help take care of me, but they even move out of the house so I can rest in tranquility. When I'm eight months pregnant, I overhear them whispering in the bathroom. "We can never let Gina have the baby. I don't care if it kills her—we're all screwed if the child is born!" "Relax. The doctor already told me that Gina's got leukemia from all the formaldehyde in our new house. Even the baby's deformed!" Shocked, I burst into the bathroom to confront them, but the slippery floor causes me to fall hard. Instantly, blood snakes across the tiles. As I lie there in pain, I look up and see the cold, twisted smiles on my parents' faces before taking my last breath. I cannot fathom why my family wants me dead. I thought they'd been looking forward to his baby for a decade. When I open my eyes again, I return to the very day my mother-in-law insists on taking me to the mountain.

I'm attacked after the murderer who took my sister's life is released from prison. He pins me to the forest floor, allowing me to scream and shout until I run out of strength. As the fireworks explode above me, blood pools around me. Two months later, my husband becomes his next victim. I burst into manic laughter when I see the torment he has to suffer.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

Celeste Cox sent me a photo on WhatsApp. I opened it to find a picture of the school heartthrob and me in an intimate embrace, the pose as suggestive as could be.

There's something about the sensation of not knowing where you are, about not seeing the color of things as they occur, but as they truly are. Something about the mystery, the silence, and the cold appeals to me. There's something unspoken about the dark that I can never put into words. Something both terrifying and absolutely gorgeous Secret Agents of havvard (S.A.H) is a hidden government agency that keeps the world safe from powerful and unseen threats everywhere. --------Anastasia Amorist Grey, the 25-year-old daughter of Alfredo Santiago Grey. The Leader of the Alpha Team, known as "Uno" She's heartless, brutal, and cold. But under the cold exterior is a girl who has suffered far too many heartbreaks and losses. Trained to be a great agent who defends, punishes, and brings peace to the world. But what if her final mission with her friends is to annihilate her own father's wickedness? Will someone finally break down the walls of her cold heart, or will she have to face her demons alone? Miller, Zacharyx The 27-year-old man known as "Tres" is a undercover police officer who will meet Anastasia along the way in her tumultuous life. Many people fear him, and he has a dark past that haunts him every night. Will two broken souls fit together perfectly, or will they destroy each other beyond repair? With the mission lurking around the corner will Zacharyx and Anastasia be able to survive the mission? Will Zacharyx be able to save Anastasia?

I'm staring at this man who looks exactly like my husband, overwhelmed by fear, as I received a message that read, "He's not your husband!"What's even more bizarre is that the name displayed as the sender of the text on my phone is "My Dear Husband"!Who on earth should I believe?

My grandmother only knows how to draw one thing—infants. They're ugly, but people line up to buy the paintings. I watch as she takes those women into unlit rooms. Then, their bloodcurdling screams will ring out. Oddly enough, they always thank my grandmother when they're leaving. One day, I finally find out what exactly my grandmother paints. I discover the truth when I see an infant crawl out of one of the women's bellies—it looks just like the one my grandmother has painted.

คนนึงก็ร้าย อีกคนก็ไม่ยอมใคร มันจะเป็นความรักได้จริง ๆ หรอ? หรือสุดท้ายมันก็แค่ความสัมพันธ์ที่บิดเบี้ยว?