Fierce Conversations นิยาย & เรื่องราว

KAEL I sat near the center of the White Moon Council meeting hall. Alphas, Lycans, and Elders filled every seat. Their voices rose and clashed as every attempt at a normal conversation turned into a full-blown argument. Not only that, I could sense the agitation pouring off everyone in the room… except Finn. He sat motionless and silent. His face was gaunt and exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. In the last few days, we recorded Feral attacks in almost every pack across the Southern and Eastern regions.

“Not assume. Actually ask.” Circe looked at them. Then at Bellona. Bellona looked at Circe. Then at Hawthorne. “I want both of you,” Bellona said. “Same,” Circe said. Hawthorne exhaled. Something in their face opened, the careful control they kept giving a little. “There are things to work out,” they said. “About how this works. I have done this before, not exactly this, but something like it, and the conversations matter.” “We are good at conversations,” Bellona said. “We have been arguing about this installation for twelve weeks.”

"Wolves aren't much better." Unfortunately, he had a point. I couldn't even argue. The conversation flowed naturally after that. Stories. Questions. Observations. Nothing serious. Nothing heavy. Just talking. The kind of conversation that happened when two people weren't trying to impress each other. For once, I wasn't discussing my visions. Or danger. Or supernatural conspiracies. It was really nice. At some point, the topic shifted toward family. Probably because family always found a way into conversations eventually. "You miss them."

I huffed pettily and shifted to the side, Fine, if he wanted me to stop talking and stay on my own, I could do that, the conversation was annoying anyway, and I didn't know why he brought it up out of the blues, or how he even knew that I had that conversation at all. I brought out my phone from my purse and replied to a very impatient Lola in full caps, which was sure to calm her down. Then I closed my eyes, Thanking the small sip of coffee I managed to take before the conversation with Melissa for keeping me full. After a while of huffing and stewing in my rage, I heard him turn to face me. I didn't look up to meet his gaze. I knew I was acting like a child. "Fiona," He called softly,

Carlisle stood with an unreadable expression, his eyes fixed on the seething guests. Their angry mutters filled the air, a chaotic symphony of indignation. "These people have no sense of decorum. All they want is a free meal and a chance to guzzle our drinks," one guest hissed. "They need to be put in their place!" another chimed in, her face red with anger. "If we don't toss them out, this whole event will be a disaster," a third added, their voice shrill with panic.

Only if he knew what he was talking about. "Watch what this little girl does to you until you speak up," I said, folding my sleeve. I take out my pocket knife and sever the tips of his fingers. "Are you prepared to speak up?" I asked when he screamed. "You fucking witch, I'm not going to spare your life," he said, as I cut another finger. "Pray for yours before wishing for mine," I advised.

She quickly shuts her mouth. The rest of dinner is filled with random conversation. It’s not quite awkward, but it doesn’t flow naturally, either. It proves the disconnect between high-ranking wolves and omegas. When Candi and I are quiet, and the three high-ranking wolves talk, things are fine. When Candi and I are talking, and the other three are quiet, things are fine. The second the two groups try talking with each other, the conversation feels forced and stuck. It’s strange.

We just… did not lose. The Council called a truce after too much blood had been spilled. But we have kept finding each other. Like magnets with jagged teeth. “We’re supposed to talk tonight,” I reminded her, crossing my arms. “Not fight.” “Pity,” she sighed. “You’re prettier when you snarl.” I should have walked away. But I did not. The meeting went as expected, ten minutes of civil conversation, followed by two minutes of shouting and six seconds of spellfire when she mentioned selling wolf pelts to Hollywood costume departments. She claimed it was sarcasm. I did not care. I lunged.

I gripped the steering wheel with all my strength. The burning front of the car scraped hard against the safety barrier, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Amid the crashing sounds, I clearly heard the two of them screaming as they dialed for help. “Someone, hurry! Jane’s gone mad!” “She’s trying to kill us! She’s going to crash into us!” As the structure beneath the commentator booth began to sway dangerously, I twisted the wheel sharply. The car brushed perilously close to a concrete pillar, leaving a shocking scratch in its wake.

He sipped his scotch and noticed Kenzie was watching him with fascination. This was one of the things he loved about her. Whenever they talked it was a genuine conversation, not just small talk. They listened to each other. Kenzie wasn't picturing her next shopping spree or wondering if her makeup looked okay. She had depthshe was real. She loved dinosaurs, just like him. They passionately argued about the conclusions of various new discoveries, conversed about the latest academic papers, and he enjoyed every minute of it. Being with her wasn't like being with the women at the Gilded Cuff. Those women were there for sexual release and physical satisfaction. Sometimes he went for hours withou