Romans & histoires Ghostface Stu Macher

Ghost said beside Hacker, they are both running on the treadmill, "Why the change of mind?" Hacker asked, "Nothing, just tell me if you are not interested, I can't blame you since you get new friend now" Ghost said annoyingly, "Well, I like it, at least, she doesn't think I am a kid," Hacker said, "Whatever." Ghost and left to another angle of the training hall. "Hey," Butcher said with a smile, standing beside Mauler as she put on her training gear. "What do you want?" Mauler asked gruffly, not looking at him.

Harper’s POV The word hangs in the heavy, suffocating air of the executive office. Disgust. I watch his dark eyes closely. For a fraction of a second, the impenetrable, terrifying mask of the mafia boss cracks. I can see a distinct, undeniable hit of raw pain flash across his handsome face. It looks as if I just reached into his chest and physically squeezed his heart. But the vulnerability only lasts for a microsecond before he violently suppresses it. He regains his composure, his jaw locking into place as his face returns to its normal, blank, stoic norm.

Subtle, but I notice everything. Klaus de Luca. He didn’t see me as he entered a room alone. I didn’t hesitate. Silently, smoothly, I followed. The door was just starting to close when— CRASH! A vase flew at my head. I ducked instinctively, the ceramic shattering against the wall behind me. I straightened slowly, blade already drawn. Then I heard his voice. Low. Calculated. “So... you’re the Ghost Knife. The woman with no past. No future. Who sent you ? .”

"Go on then, 'Zero'. Show us how a god bleeds." I didn't answer him. I was busy unwrapping the bandages from my left arm. The flesh underneath was grey and cracked, like dry river mud. Veins of glowing blue entropy pulsed faintly beneath the skin. It didn't hurt—not usually. The nerves had been burned out long ago. But the machine... the machine would reconnect them. It would force the ghost of my nerves to feel everything. "Jack," Marcus stepped in front of me. "Let me do it. My pain tolerance is higher. I've taken bullets."

This was Macho, a man known for his brutality and ruthlessness in the criminal underworld. Macho lowered his massive frame onto the chair opposite Sabastine. His piercing eyes, set beneath a furrowed brow, sized up Sabastine, evaluating him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Sabastine met his gaze, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "What's brought you here, and what do I owe you?" Macho's voice rumbled, a low and gravelly timbre that resonated within the confines of the prison visitation room.

Ethan was with us along with Gabriel and her two friends. " Let's first ride that ! ", Gavin squealed Pointing at a ride. It was followed by loud gasps from Gabriel and her friends. I looked to where Gavin was pointing his finger and instantly my eyes went wide on seeing what it was. It was the freaking Tornado and it looked like death. " Woah ! It's gonna be so thrilling. ", Grace squealed excitedly. " Oh hell no ! ", Gabriel said shaking her head. " I'm not riding it."

He was a mafia heir who controlled life and death with the same indifference he used to handle a puck on the ice. ​Kieran suddenly lowered the phone, his shoulders tightening. He didn't even turn around before he spoke. "Why are you just standing there staring, Yara." ​I startled slightly, gripping the strap of my tote bag tighter against my side. ​He turned around slowly. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, sharp and intense. He didn't make any move to cover himself or put on a shirt; he just stood there, his heavily built chest rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths. The small cut near his knuckle from last night was still there..

"Nicky, do you know what you look like right now? Like a guard dog over a bone—anyone who tosses you a piece, you wag your tail. Anyone who threatens what's in your bowl, you bare your teeth. Who do you think you are? Poor character, sycophantic, fake virtue, real trash." Nicky's face changed. He even stepped forward, raising his hand. I didn't move an inch. I stared into his eyes. "What? Want to hit me? Go ahead, let everyone see exactly what kind of person you are." He froze. His face turned pale and strained. Elizabeth stood beside him, looking like she might burst into tears at any moment. Just as the standoff reached its peak, someone knocked on the lab door. A man in a dark gray unifor

"If that male had not rolled up in that white 1967 Nightclaw Rover with the custom tracking stripes, my boots would still be inside my den." Ivanov's jaw clenches tight, his neck veins popping. "Son of a bitch." "Oh, so that machine actually belongs to your hoard?" I ask, acting like my wolf isn't totally impressed. "Yeah. My beast has a huge obsession with muscle machines," he admits. I stare at his hard profile for a few seconds too long. "It is a beautiful build. The clutch felt great under my bare foot. It has a massive amount of power. I feel totally cheated though, because Ryker wouldn't let me open the engine up on the high border highway so my wolf could cruise."

He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “My dear mate, did you take me for one of those gutter-wolves who disturbs the peace with a scarred muffler? This machine has a silencer. I have no desire to be a nuisance to the territory.” The Vyrus actually belonged to Lucas Grant—it was a racing predator designed for the elite. My face flushed hot as I inched backward, tightening my cloak to hide my racing heart.