Freddie Mcclair Novels & Stories

Fredrick looked at Charmine tiredly and said, "I thank you for saving my son, Ms. Jordan. If you ever need anything in the future, you may rely on me. Just give me a call." Charmine replied as calmly as usual, "You’re too polite, Mr. D’Cruz." Fredrick then recomposed his thoughts before he addressed the crowd of people and reporters, "Poulenc is the winner of this competition; I just threw in two hundred million in the end for Wave. Poulenc is the genuine winner of this competition!" … Tiffany ran for a few hours and finally left the sirens behind her. She hid inside an alley. Blisters littered her pale ankle, her hair completely tousled like she was a ghost. She was covered in mud and reeke

he grumbles, more as a statement than a question. “Actually, no.” I hop down from my barstool as Brock’s eyes come back to mine, narrowing. “The alpha from there said he’d give me a lift,” I continue, sweeping my unruly hair out of my face with a hand. “Gosh, why can’t I remember his name?” “It’s Reid,” Brent supplies. He’s sitting on the countertop across from the kitchen island, and I look over at him with an appreciative smile. “That’s it,” I say, snapping my fingers. “Thanks.”

“If that were a real person, their airway and movement would be shut down. Very nice tactic.” I spun around and met by a man with dark chocolate colored eyes. I couldn’t put my finger on it but something about them seemed familiar… Like a far off mist, as if they were standing in a fog but something about them seemed strange in an unusual way. His dirty blonde hair was impeccably styled and his features blended nicely together contrasting from light to dark, his skin was a tinge tan, and he had the perfect golden color. “I’ve heard so much about you, I’m Elijah.” His baritone voice pushed through the air and I felt my brows furrow.