Harrison Ford Scar Novels & Stories

Like I have two dimples when I smile while Emily has two but one is not that deep. I have a small birthmark just above my navel, which Emily doesn't have. When I went out two days ago to meet up with Maddie at Starbucks, people were congratulating me on my wedding. I was too embarrassed to say I'm not the one getting married but my twin. Nobody will believe me, anyway. So I thanked them and smiled politely at them. At the mall, when we went shopping for wedding gifts, someone congratulated me, and I told him I wasn't the one he never believed me.

A flicker of fear crept over me. Scar was heavily built and almost as tall as Wraith; his eyes were blue, and his hair was a shock of white. He too was covered in scars, but the most gruesome was on his face. It seemed like someone had carved him open from the forehead down, only to restitch him back up. The Ironside Pack were on their feet now, cheering. I could finally understand why Rex thought of ‘Scar’ as a worthy opponent. He definitely looked the part. “Last calls for bets!” a man called out, and Rex motioned him over.

I saw as I start driving to the pack house. As I pull up and park in front of the pack house, my dick gets hard all over again, as I step out of my car and see Scarlett waiting outside the packhouse, leaning against the railing of the porch. Her long, chocolate brown hair is in loose waves down her back and I can see her bright green eyes from here. Her curves look perfect in a red dress that wraps around her body, showcasing her cleavage as it ties at the waist. Her legs, perfectly toned from all her time training and sparring, look they need to be wrapped around me as she stands in a pair of black stiletto heels. Before she has a chance to move even an inch, I’m out of my car and on the po

But King Harvey is. King Harvey relaxes in my grasp as I run the towel down his wide back and then move to the back of his arms. I get on the bed beside him but move to be behind him to see his back and not stare at his face. I am emotionally drained and don’t wish to fluster myself even more. I am running out of stamina. There is one massive scar in a jag down his spine that reminds me of a thunderbolt. It is from war. It even looks violent.

If Eric had known what Rick said in his exit interview, he would most certainly have countered it when he was asked to do his victory interview. Eric touches the place on his forehead where he bore a scar for a very long time. The gash he received during the accident left an ugly scar when it finally healed. Years after the accident, Eric couldn’t stand looking at himself in the mirror anymore and had the scar removed by the most prominent plastic surgeon in the city. The man did a great job and there is now, no sign that there ever were a scar of any kind. The scar made him remember every little detail of the accident in the most vivid detail.

I watched her eyes hood over as an unreadable expression clouded her face immediately. “I didn't know I was interrupting something.” Sabrina's voice was low, too low for my liking. Call me crazy but I could swear I saw her fingers trembling underneath her plate. “Sorry about that.” “No, it's fine.” Xander cleared his throat before slowly peeling his hands from my body and taking away the heat radiating from his body. “ Kieran almost got herself in an accident and I caught her just in time.” “Right.” Sabrina quipped, and without sparing me so much as a glance, she walked towards one of the dinning chairs.

My haughty, fearless arrogance looked far too much like the expression my 18 dads wore right before their wrath descended. "Mr. Scar, this portrait…" Vincent stared fixedly at the huge portrait hanging behind the armchair. On the right arm of the young woman in the painting was a blood-red phoenix tattoo identical to mine. His voice shook when he finally realized something was off. Scarface's gaze flicked back and forth between the portrait and me, suspicion written all over his face. Could I really be… "What's all this noise about? Disturb the bosses inside, and you'll all suffer fates worse than death."

“You need some rest.” I nodded. And at that moment, a car’s engine sounded as it came towards us. I could recognize the sound of that engine even in my sleep. It was Jarred’s Ford truck. The truck came to a halt beside the patrol trucks and Jarred rushed towards me. “What happened here?” He asked, his eyes falling on me. “It’s a long story,” Harrison said, clenching his jaw. His eyes darted to my mustang which was a total mess and they widened in shock.

"I'll find her. And when I do. I'll beg. Beg on bended knee. Go where she goes. But show Harrison Blackwood is not the devil Maya portrayed him to be. Be the man Leya needs." Alone, finally, in her life, the therapist cocked her head to one side. "That is your promise. Now hold on." And as Harrison left that office that night, his chest aching but his heart seething once more, there was one thing echoing in his ears above the rest: He had scars that would haunt him for a lifetime. And out of those scars had been driven home a promise — a promise that would be the refrain of his years.

Sarah squeaked excitedly. Roxanne looked at the screen and saw Henry facing the camera. He was in a navy checked suit and his beard was neatly trimmed. His raven silky medium hair was slicked back, making him look like a nobleman. The interviewer suddenly asked him, "Henry Ford, we heard Miss Roxanne Smith is your fiancée. Those are just rumours, right? She's been recently seen leaving Black to gain a business deal. Such a loose woman is not your fiancée, right? Those must just be silly rumours."