Novel & Cerita Gotham Jerome Valeska

If I succeeded with my scheme to take over, I was going to tear the awful place down. When I got to the staircase, my cousin, Vale, stood there. Valerian Barretta. He was tall, with brown hair, and green eyes. He also had tattoos up and down his arms, some of which could be seen on the tops of his hands. “Well, how’d it go?” he asked. I glared at him. “Awful. He wants me to kill Luca.” Vale’s full lips twisted into a smile. “Is that a problem?”

I challenged, hoping to gauge his true intentions. Jerome met my gaze head-on, a steely glint in his eyes. "Forgive me, Alpha Kael," he said, his voice laced with a dangerous calmness, "I can tolerate your aggression towards me, but I will not stand by and watch you disrespect Axella. She is my lifeline, and nobody, not even a powerful Alpha, gets to cross that line."

Jeremiah continued, gesturing lazily to the men seated further down the table, “Allow me to introduce the ones who matter.” A man with a scar running from his jaw to his collarbone lifted his glass slightly. “Xavier Morelli.” Next to him, a dark-haired man with an air of quiet lethality tipped his head. “Kayne Orlov." And then the youngest one, who looked at me with almost a cocky smirk but his pale blue eyes told a tale of unhinged madness. And yet still somehow he appeared less dangerous than the man on my right. “He is my youngest brother,” Jeremiah said, his tone quite soft.

Jerome said as he stretched his phone forward. So Jessica Hart and Isabella Ross are one?

I was just about to fold myself into the vehicle when I halted, glaring Victor dead in the eyes as I questioned, "How can I be certain that you don't plan to do anything to me?" Victor huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his features twisted in a pensive mask. After a minute or two, he began signing, "Message your friend. Tell her you're with me. My name is Victor Silva. If she doesn't hear from you in the morning then she should file a charge against me." Silva. Hispanic decent. His tanned skin suddenly made a lot of sense. I fished out my phone from the pocket of my trench coat and opened a chat with Erica.

He wasn’t moving. Vale grabbed my wrist. “We need to go.” “What—what just happened?” “Later.” He pulled me through a side door into a narrow hallway that smelled like rust and rain. My legs felt like jelly, but fear was stronger. Outside, the storm hadn’t let up. Rain hammered down as we ran through the alley, puddles splashing under our shoes. I could barely keep up with him. “Who was that?” I shouted over the rain. “Division agent.”

Now there was barely any space between them. “Here’s honesty, Adrian. I want Daniel Mercer dead. I want Helen Mercer dead. I want every handler who ever wrote one of those reports buried somewhere no one will ever find them. I want Samuel Vale to live long enough to understand exactly what he sold, and then I want him to lose everything before he dies. I want Victor Kane on his knees begging for mercy he won’t get. And if Celeste Vale is still breathing by the end of this month, I will consider that a personal failure.” Her voice never rose.

“Because I actually went there.” Typical Alora. Always the reliable one. Always making me feel like garbage for not being the same. “Why do I even bother?” she mutters. “I’ll get him out myself.” “How?” I snap. “Do you even know who the Vales are?” I laugh bitterly. “You seriously think some regular lawyer can beat the Vale family?” I laugh bitterly. “They own judges. They own cops. Hell, they probably own the building George’s being held in.”

If Jerome did it, it would only be detrimental to her reputation. "Let's go!" Sasha walked beside Jerome to the garage. She opened his passenger door and got into his car, making herself at home. Jerome got into the car and waited for Thaddeus to leave first. He had never been to the Holt family's golf course, so he needed Thaddeus to lead the way. "Jerome, help me fasten my seatbelt," Sasha said. She was especially dressed up and had her hair in a braided half updo. With her pink makeup and pouty lips, she looked flirty.