Ginahasa Story Novels & Stories

Gina's POV The night air was thick with tension as I drove home, my fingers drumming against the steering wheel in thought. Jenna had given me just enough information to confirm what I already suspected—Gina was up to something, and it wasn’t good. But I needed more than vague hints and half-truths. I needed the full story, and Gina has refused vehemently to say a word about it, no matter how long I pressed. Well, Gina refused to talk willingly, I’d have to make her talk another way. Then an idea struck me.

She nodded for me to speak. "Any day would be good. Today would be great." One of the males said. He was a dirty blonde, and the witch was wrapped around him, trying to soothe him. I cleared my throat and began to speak. "My name is Gin. My last name doesn't really matter. About 7, almost 8 years ago, me and my crew were hired to kidnap a little girl. Our mission was to cut her hair from her head and to scare her a bit. Apparently, the bitch needed her hair for some kind of spell."

"Gosh, Zha, if I hadn't read the article about his shipping company and his short biography, I wouldn't believe he is not Dion Dausel," Caroline commented as she gazed away from the tab on her laptop's screen where Gin's picture is on. Like what I did the first time I heard Dion's name from Lady Maya, Caroline and I made research about Gin after telling her everything that happened this morning. And it turned out that everything Gin told me was true.

Kasadya inquired, a hint of surprise coloring his tone. "I appreciate your intentions and acknowledge your actions," Gin clarified, realizing she had found a diplomatic way to achieve the outcome she desired. "But I entrust the proof to you. It will strengthen you, won't it?" "It shall, little sugar fairy. The bones of the guilty fortify me," Kasadya affirmed. "In that case, take them, with my gratitude," Gin conceded, understanding the significance of the gesture. With a swift motion, Kasadya retrieved the heads from the sack, and Gin watched with a mix of fascination and repulsion as they seamlessly integrated into his deathly exoskeleton.

“How dare you throw a pillow at my face?! Do you even know who I am?! You want me to clean?" The younger inmate, whose name I never cared to learn, rolled her eyes. "She’s talking nonsense again. We don’t care who you are, just clean. Annie and I have been scrubbing this damn cell while you sit there like some stuck-up queen, talking to yourself. You fucking lunatic.” "Lunatic?" I repeated coldly, stepping forward. "You scum have no idea who you’re speaking to, I am Ginna, the wife of one of the most powerful men in America."

Cold Claw didn’t know it yet…but the end had already begun for them. By the time I finished what I’d started, Darius and everyone who stood behind him wouldn’t even understand where the blade had come from. That was the beauty of it. Revenge tasted best when it was served quietly, patiently, with precision. Gina thought this was just about her. But it was not. She had no idea she was standing at the center of something far older and far bloodier. I lifted the glass and took a long sip, letting the burn slide down my throat. My reflection stared back at me from the darkened glass; calm, controlled, satisfied.