Novelas y relatos de Gilbert Von Obsidian

“The owner… he’s not like the others.” I turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “A jerk? An egotistical narcissist?” I half-joked, trying to break the tension. But Chloe didn’t laugh. Instead, she shivered slightly, the smile fading from her face. "He's... odd. And deadly. No one really sees him during the day. He’s a nightwalker." Her voice faltered on the last word. “He’s got a scar across his face. No one knows how he got it, but people say it’s the least dangerous thing about him.”

Gabriel's POV Dawning with the sun, I adhered to my morning routine before selecting a classic Armani black suit, a fitting choice as today marked my role as the guest of honor at the farewell party. The elegance of my attire was mirrored in my Rolex watch and black Brodie Oxford shoes. Descending the stairs, the dining room awaited, my morning repast served by a diligent maid. Completing my meal, I exited my home to the sight of my Black BMW X4, awaiting my presence. My chauffeur facilitated my entry, propelling us towards the school. Upon arrival, I exited the vehicle, traversing familiar grounds tinged with nostalgia. Suddenly, an unexpected collision occurred, a collision of bodies and e

Slam. "A-all of it!" Johannes screamed through choking sobs. Alexander looked on contemptuously. He released Johannes' head and it let it fall to the floor with a satisfying plop. He scrutinized Johannes while he removed his gloves, allowing them to fall unceremoniously to the floor. Johannes' beating had done little to quell his anger, but if he went any farther he would certainly kill the man. If Johannes was a normal noble, he could probably get away with it. However, Johannes Chevalier was the sixth prince of Aristen. The blowback from killing him would create headaches for Alexander for years.

I placed the bowl of grapes onto the kitchen island, popping a red grape into my mouth. Gunnar's eyes honed in on my lips, "You don't have to worry about Jericho. The cub likes you." "One: he scared the shit out of me this morning and two," I smirked, having a hundred percent certainty in my words, "you all like me but the Astor brothers are all too stubborn to admit it." I popped another grape into my mouth, sighing at the sweet fleshy taste.

“Arthur was right about one thing. You cannot run from this family. You cannot run from this legacy. And you certainly cannot run from me.” He raised a hand, and suddenly, alarms began to blare throughout the chamber—loud, shrieking sirens that hurt the ears. The blue light turned a violent, warning red. The hum of the machine rose to a deafening pitch. “Obsidian doesn’t just generate energy, my dear,” Lucius said calmly over the noise, as chaos erupted around us—Arthur shouting, Vincent backing away, Elvira looking terrified. “It amplifies it. It stores it. And when fully activated… it releases it. Not just to power cities. But to reshape them.”

His knees buckle and drop to the ground. The media and police call me silenzio, while the others just call Silenzio. I'm a serial killer and I work for the country's most notorious and dangerous dark Italian organization known as The obsidian Syndicate. I work in the organization merely to quench my blood thirst after the unfortunate incident that occurred in my life which has scarred me and turned me brutal, I was given several therapy sessions but none ever worked to bring me back to the man I used to be before the incident.