Gundam 00 Lockon Stratos Novels & Stories

I have to go to the police station to bail two people out at 2:00 am. The young woman this time is different compared to the others in the past. She keeps her head hung and is as docile as a rabbit. Melvin Norton, my boyfriend, says with a smile, "I've just won her heart over. This is your junior colleague, Stacy Decker. "I joked about wanting to try having car sex with her. She dared not do that, so she grabbed the steering wheel from me. That's how we ended up crashing into the greenbelt." Stacy raises her head to glare at Melvin with red-rimmed eyes. But that's when the hickey on her neck is revealed. I just nod with a blank expression. Then, I begin the procedures fluently. The police officer in charge of the fine is already used to seeing me at this point. He asks casually, "How many times have you done this so far?" I'm temporarily taken aback by the question, resulting in me pausing in my actions. Last year, Melvin had cheated on me with a saleswoman. The year before, it was a nurse. The year before that year was the gym trainer… Suddenly, I lose all interest in this stupid game. "This is the ninth and the final time."

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

I've gone on a business trip. It's 3:00 am when my best friend suddenly calls me. He asks me why I didn't tell him that I already have a baby, seeing as we haven't met for a year. That question takes me by surprise. Josephine Bennett and I have been married for many years, but we've been using contraception all this time. Since when do we have a baby together? My best friend then sends me a screenshot of Josephine's social media feed. The caption shows, "This marks our 100th day together, my darling baby! I love you so much!" My heart goes tense when I see the screenshot. Immediately, I call Josephine to ask her what's going on. Her reaction is very cool and collected, though. "That's a relative's baby. I found the baby super adorable, so I decided to share the post. I didn't think I'd end up sharing the caption too." I just smile when I hear Josephine's answer. Later on, I call my older brother, Leonard Sterling. "Cut the funding for Josephine's research project. Turns out she's been cheating on me."

When I see Reese Chapman again, it is exactly three years after I sever our mate bond. It is also the third year since I completely seal my wolf and hide at the edge of the Shadow pack territory, living as an insignificant healer. Tonight, the air in the clinic feels heavy and icy under his overwhelming aura. He carries a lightly injured female companion in his arms and forcibly takes over the best VIP ward in the clinic. During my shift, he summons me three times through his guards. The first time, he coldly orders, "There are wolfsbane fragments on the bedsheets. Change them." I send an apprentice herbalist to handle it. Two hours later, he has a nurse relay another order. "The smell of medicine is too strong. Change it again." I suppress the urge to suddenly break down and arrange for someone to take care of it. At 2:00 am, he reaches me through our mind-link. "The sheets are dirty. Come up and change them." I instinctively block him and refuse calmly. "Sorry, Alpha Reese. The staff responsible for cleaning have already gone to rest." In the darkness, a cruel chuckle comes from the man. In a tone that allows no refusal, he murmurs, "Then you come and change them yourself."

At 4:00 a.m., my husband, Rocco, gently shook me awake. His voice was a low murmur, . "Alessia, my love, could you do something for me?" But his next words shattered the illusion. "Scarlett is hungry. Go make her some seafood soup." Scarlett was our maid, and she was also Rocco's pregnant goomar. "I just had fresh seafood delivered. Get to the kitchen and make her a bowl of soup. Just for Falcone's heir." I refused, my voice cold. His anger flared in an instant. "Don't be so unreasonable, Alessia." "Is it really so hard for you to make some soup?" I shook my head, silent. He stroked my cheek, a patronizing smile playing on his lips. "Fine, Alessia. So you've learned to defy me now." "Think carefully, Alessia. Do you really want to keep your place as a Falcone?" "And your position as the family's lawyer? Think about whether you still want these… then give me your answer." Seeing the arrogance in Rocco's eyes, the last ember of love I had for this man died. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "I want out of the Falcone family."

On the day of my 30th birthday, my CEO wife, Sabrina Langford, leaves hurriedly at 3:00 am. She claims that there's something urgent going on at the company and that she won't be home the whole day. Later on, Timothy Cross, the low-income university student that Sabrina has been sponsoring, updates his social media feed. In the photo, I see Sabrina standing at the side of the road in a bikini. Two big apples are balanced on her 36D bust. The caption of the photo is, "The beautiful and hot CEO has personally come over to my house to help me sell the homegrown apples. You'll regret it if you don't buy these apples from me!" My brows are drawn into a frown immediately. When I call Sabrina, the call goes through rather quickly. "I told you I'm very busy at the company right now. If you disturb me again, I'm not going to forgive you this easily!" After that, Sabrina ends the call. But right before the call gets cut off, I can hear a car honking in her background. I'm not mad at her at all. She likes helping others to sell fruits, right? I might as well lend her a helping hand. So, I share the social media post to the company's group chat. The message I've drafted is, "Does anyone here want a batch of rotten apples? I'll even throw in a second-hand wife for free."

On the last day of the year, my music player app pushed out my 2025 listening report. My keyword was 'Resonance.' I had not actually spent much time listening to music that year. My account had mostly been used by my boyfriend, Jeremy Steward. A small line of text appeared underneath. [At 4:00 A.M. on December 1st, you were still sharing the same song with someone. So this is what love looks like, staying awake through the night.] My breath caught. December 1st was my birthday. However, that night, I had gone to bed early. Jeremy had rushed off right after cutting the cake, saying he needed to go back to the office for overtime. Almost as if possessed, I tapped my trembling hands on the unfamiliar profile that showed up as my most frequent interaction. Their keyword for the year was 'Exclusively Yours.' My heart skipped. I opened the details. [This year, you and this user listened to songs together late at night 688 times. Every time is a private whisper between souls.] Right then, a message from Jeremy popped up on my phone. [Babe, I have to work late again tonight. Don't wait up for me. Sleep early, okay?] At the same moment, that unfamiliar account posted a new update. A photo of two hands intertwined inside a car, fingers tightly laced together. [I love working late with him the most. We'll listen to music together for a lifetime.]

The operation had just gone dark when the chatter started in the comms. “Easy, Zane. Don’t burn through another mattress.” A low laugh came through the headset. Relaxed. Careless. “I’ve been deployed for six months. I needed the release. And don’t let my wife hear that.” More laughter. “Right. Take care of the little mistress first, then call home and play devoted husband?” My phone rang. His voice when I answered was warm. Intimate. Soft in a way it never was on the field. He said he missed me. Said he counted the days until he could come home. I watched the live drone feed while he said it. What he didn’t know was that three months ago, I had quietly transferred into the family’s Strategic Intelligence division. Every operation his crew ran, I was the one behind the monitors—tracking shipments, rerouting safehouses, intercepting rival signals, listening to every word spoken over secured lines. The first night he slept with her, I logged the timestamp. 00:43 hours. When the call ended, I dialed another number—encrypted, family internal. “I’ll accept your offer,” I said calmly. “After this job, I’m stepping away.” The voice on the other end was steady. Controlled. Powerful. “You’ll leave after the Palermo Capture,” he replied. “I’ll personally see to your relocation.” A pause. “Three days.”

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

On Christmas night, I've roasted a whole turkey and paired it with the finest red wine. Then, I quietly wait for my boyfriend, Don Carlo Carlione from the Carlione family, to come home to me. When Carlo steps through the front door, he doesn't even spare me a glance. Instead, he throws his blood-stained coat onto the couch and starts undoing his cufflinks. "Something important is going on at the family HQ tonight, so I can't celebrate Christmas with you tonight." He sounds very casual, as though he's talking about the weather. I don't respond to him at all. Instead, I just slice my turkey quietly. Later on at 1:00 am, Carlo's ex-girlfriend, Lucia Caruso, uploads a social media post right on time. In the photo, she can be seen resting her head against Carlo's shoulder. The background shows a night sky filled with fireworks overcasting a grand bridge. The caption reads, "He told me he can always keep me company as long as I say the word." I don't hurl my phone in a fit of anger, nor do I call Carlo to demand for answers hysterically. Instead, I just leave a like on the post. 30 seconds later, Carlo calls me. For once, his voice is tinged with a hint of alarm. "This is just a misunderstanding! I'll definitely celebrate next Christmas with you!" I just shake my head with a soft sigh. "It's a shame that there's no next Christmas for us ever again."