El Padre Sin Cabeza Novels & Stories

He started hitting his head, muttering to himself, "I almost did something terrible! I may be a pervert, but I'm not a monster!" That night, my father bombarded me with questions about my mother. I answered every one of them in detail, even providing more information than he asked for. To be sure, his personal doctor was called in to conduct a paternity test. The results threw the entire household into chaos. Susan, who had been sleeping soundly, was yanked out of bed by my father's men. When my father saw her, his face contorted with disgust. "Who are you?" Still groggy, Susan looked at me with confusion, clearly not grasping what was happening.

' I love you too father" She wanted to say but no sooner had she opened her mouth, another thing she wasn't prepared for happened. just opened her mouth to reply when her eyes widen in horror. One minute her father was kneeling there and the next, his head was completely detached from his body, rolling carelessly on the floor. His body knelt there, blood spluttering everywhere. Haven's could see blood dripping down the rogue leader's claws. Her father's blood!!. " FATHER!!!!!!" Haven yelled in horror, a single tear dropped down her cheeks. That was the last thing she saw, her father's headless body, falling heavily to the ground while her mother laid a few feet away, chest completely torn o

His eyes were darker than I remembered, sharp with intelligence, not cruelty. He looked at me openly now. “Good morning,” he said. His voice was calm. Polite. Detached. I inclined my head. “Good morning.” A pause. “You are… my father’s wife,” he said, not as a question. “Yes.” Another pause. Longer. Something shifted in his expression,not desire, not yet, but uncertainty. As if reality had not aligned with expectation. “I did not realize he married so… recently.” Recently. As if time measured legitimacy.

A figure was lifted out, limp. His breath hitched. His focus locked on victim’s wrist. “That… that’s the rosary,” he choked out, the words scraping raw. “The one-of-a-kind piece I gave to my father for his last Saint’s day. It’s him. It’s really him.” The tablet clattered to the stone floor. His legs gave way, and he crumpled beside his father’s casket, great, shuddering sobs tearing from his throat. “Chiara,” he gasped, the name a curse. “You killed him.”

“If Rachel is such a good mother, then why don’t you go be her child’s father?” “Oh! You’re already Aileen’s dad, aren’t you? Back in the forest, you kept calling yourself ‘Daddy Carlson’ like she was your own.” “I told you a thousand times—I’m an Alpha. I’m the father of the whole pack! Aileen lost her father. What’s wrong with me looking after her?” “Are you the last male in Moonshadow Pack?” I used to wonder about it, so I secretly ran paternity tests on Carlson and Aileen—more than once. Every time, the result was the same. They weren’t blood-related.

I had lost complete sense of reality as I slipped in and out of consciousness. All I knew was that I was very cold and my body was shaking uncontrollably as my body temperature dropped. I tried to stare off into space but my eyes would always meet with someone else’s. I’d try to look at a wall blankly, but I’d suddenly be looking into my father’s empty sockets where Octavious had gouged out his eyes. Or I’d try to just stare into my shower but I would only see Dash’s headless body just lying there. Everywhere I looked, I couldn’t escape the horror.

I was sure he was being possessed by demons that gave him extreme powers and that had made him kill without restraint. "I don't care about all that. I only want to be the Alpha, and to get that, he has to die!" Stan laughed creakily and turned to my father sharply. I saw the wound I gave him, healing instantly. He squinted his eyes at my father and, just quickly, he drew out his sword and cut off my father's head. My whole body froze. Both of my eyes widened as I could only gape, wondering if it really happened. The head of my father rolled away, and the entire crowd wailed and screamed in anguish. Their screams were making it look real, but I still wagged my head sideways vigorously in disb

"Then you know I have to go—" "No." He turned me around, hands on my shoulders, until I was facing him instead of the door. His eyes were steady in a way that made me want to scream because he wasn't wrong and I already knew he wasn't wrong and that made it so much worse. "Going tonight is exactly what they want. You show up alone, scared, and you hand them the control they've been waiting for." "He's my father." "I know." "He's alone in a room he doesn't recognize and there are people outside counting how to get in and he doesn't know—"

I was wrong. A few days passed. I tried to gather myself, trying to survive the shame and the heartbreak. One afternoon, while walking in the city market, I heard a familiar voice call out. "Selene?" I turned around. There stood Adrian, arm in arm with Elara. But beside them stood an older man—tall, broad-shouldered, hair streaked with gray, sharp intimidating eyes, and wearing an expensive tailored suit. It was Adrian’s father. Don Lorenzo. One of the richest, most powerful, and most feared men in the country.

Hope flashed across Nico's face. "Luca," he whispered, reaching out. "My boy." Luca moved back before Nico could touch him. He was five, dressed in a black suit my mother's tailor had made, but he looked steadier than most men in the room. "Do not call me that," he said. "My father died the night he denied me in front of strangers and watched them beat my mother. You are Don Varrone. Nothing more." Nico made a broken sound.