Helm Trail Half Face Mga Nobela at Kwento

Josh Anderson is the untouchable "King" of his high school. He is a perfectionist driven by the terrifying expectations of his abusive father. As Council President, Josh lives by a rigid script of straight A’s and flawless conduct until Tristan Boyle arrives. Tristan is a chaotic, talented "wild card" who shatters Josh’s world with a single grin and a tied test score. Between a secret admirer and a mysterious new rival, Josh’s "System" begins to glitch. To survive his home life and keep his throne, Josh must face a dangerous truth: his perfect life is a lie.

He lost his memory. She lost her heart. Now, the past wants them both dead. When Amara Kane pulls a wounded stranger from a burning car, she doesn’t expect him to be Liam Steele—billionaire tech heir, missing CEO, and the man with a target on his back. With no memory of who he is or who wants him dead, Liam finds himself hiding in the one place no one would expect: her tiny apartment. What starts as survival quickly turns into something deeper. Secrets unravel. Passion ignites. And just when Liam proposes and Amara dares to believe in love again… he vanishes without a word—leaving her pregnant and alone. But Liam didn’t just leave. He was taken. Now, Amara must face the truth: she’s not just protecting their unborn child—she’s holding the key to a conspiracy worth killing for.

“Please… please don’t kill me,” Lily begged with blood and tears streaming from her face as the big wolf hovered over her. “I’ll give you anything you want… money… anything!” she sobbed. The big wolf studied her for a few seconds and then in one haul, he pulled her car from the ditch where it was upturned and set it on the road. But as soon as it set the car on the road, Lily pumped the ignition as fast as she could and sped off leaving a wake of dust in her trail. As she drove, her eyes darted between the road ahead and the rearview mirror nothing with fear that the Big Wolf was chasing her. He was gaining in on her… it was only a matter of seconds before he’ll get her and tear her apart. She drove as fast as she could, crying and begging on the universe to save her. Suddenly the path curved, surprising Lily who wasn’t expecting the path to take such turn. With full speed, she veered of the road and drove right into a tree. She could hear the pounding paws of the Big Wolf… even in her dying state, he didn’t want to relent. “Moon goddess, please!” she murmured in her head, tasting her blood which was flowed from her face to her mouth. Just before the darkness enclosed her… she saw it rush towards her, was this really her end?

I have been dating my manager boyfriend, Caleb Frost, for five years. He calls off our wedding 52 times for Gina Lowe, an aspiring actress on the set. On the day I am ready to give up on him and walk away, Gina falsely accuses me of using expired makeup on her that caused an allergic reaction. So Caleb shoves me into a sealed cellar and locks me inside. As he pushes me down, his face is twisted in disgust. "It's one thing to pick on Gina, but to use expired makeup on her and cause an allergy? Do you know how important an artist's face is? "Stay down there and think about your wrongdoings." With that, he drags the crying Gina to the hospital. The cellar's air vent is blocked. Every breath I take grows harder until I suffocate to death inside. Three days later, Caleb remembers me only after attending a gathering with Gina. But little does he know, I am already dead from the lack of oxygen in that dark cellar.

Roseline's stomach turned and her fist clenched tightly around the handle of the big travel box beside her. She heard the clanging sound of the metallic head of Thompson's belt meeting the ground. Next, quite footsteps. Then, Thompson appeared in her view, like a ghost she didn't believe existed. He was completely bare, with his hairy chest rising and falling slowly, his cock shooting out in front like a gun ready to be fired, his balls bloated from desire, swinging from side to side as he walked closer to bed. Roseline's feet stuck to the ground and her eyes refused to blink as they looked on. "That's it, my boy. Hmm! I like what I see", the red hair gasped, rolling her eyes longingly at Thompson. As Thompson climbed unto the bed, his eyes totally locked in hers, she drew her breasts closer him, then, proceeded to rock the big pumpkins against the flushed skin of his face. "You like them?", she asked, moaning lightly. Thompson paused. Then, in a defiant move of uncontrollable desire, dug his chin into her breasts, burying his entire face in them. "Ouch", she gasped, then broke into a weak laugh, pushing his head more into her chest. "The damn bra", she spoke again, twisting uncomfortably as she threw her hands behind her to unhook the material. But Thompson caught her hands. Without words, his head still hidden in her cleavage, he slowly returned her hands to his head. Obliging to his silent command, she cackled loudly, pressing her chest even more into his face and then, with her tongue, glided across his neck and ears hungrily. Roseline froze. She wanted to scream but in that moment, she forgot how to.

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

Leon, drink up. Finish every drop in this glass." As my wife, Alice Carr, holds a glass of warm milk, she keeps staring at my Adam's apple intensely. Every night, she needs to watch me finish the entire glass of milk. At first, I think this is Alice's way of showing me her love. That is, until something occurred last month. Back then, my neighbor's fire alarm blared extremely loudly due to a fire breaking out. Yet, I had slept like a log the whole time. Only then do I realize that something is wrong with the milk. Last night, I pretended to go on a business trip. When I secretly go home in the middle of the night, I find out that my bedroom door is locked. When I peek through the gap in the door, I feel my hairs rising on their ends. It turns out that Alice isn't asleep at all. She's standing on the balcony while holding my pillow and burying her face into it. Then, she inhales the scent deeply, as though she were a drug addict. Her shoulders keep trembling violently the whole time. It's one thing if Alice is madly addicted to my scent. The thing is, the pillowcase is a part of the bedroom set that my mom has dug up from my childhood home last week. I never have a chance to use that pillow, so there's no way my scent lingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, Alice halts in her actions and raises her head. She looks up at the moon while licking her lips in an euphoric haze. Then, she mumbles softly, "Your dad's scent… is fading away…"

The day before our wedding, Luke Murray got wasted. On the ride home, he looked right at me and slurred, "Cassie, don't bring the kid to the ceremony. Arya can't know I'm the dad." I hit the brakes. Hard. He smacked into the seatback, halfway sobering up. When he finally realized it was me, he just... froze. Then he said real slow, "Guess you heard. Wedding's off—for now. Cassie doesn't want marriage, but the kid's mine, so I gotta step up. She's your bestie, right? You probably feel bad she's doing this alone. So once he's in school, I'll come back and marry you." I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "...That's fine. I don't mind." He didn't say a word when we got home—just grabbed his suitcase and left. I wiped the last tear off my face, sat on the bed, and just stared at nothing. Then my phone lit up. My childhood friend's voice cracked on the other end. "Arya, don't marry him. Please." I didn't say anything for a sec. "Okay."

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

While I'm patching up the injured wolves in the pack, I overhear a few young Omegas muttering among themselves while sharing a photo to each other in a corner. Apparently, it's a post that has been uploaded by a social media account named "True Love Above All". "He told me that the she-wolf by his side only needs a title. As for me, I need his protection. This is the amulet he has obtained from a witch after visiting the forbidden grounds." In the photo, the amulet can be seen emitting a magical glow. I know that he's the only one in the entire pack who's capable of obtaining this amulet. I look down at my empty wrist. Today is the Christmas Eve. According to the pack's tradition, mates must exchange tokens of love with each other. When I return to the pack house at night, Alpha Ethan enters the house while smelling like another she-wolf. He pulls out a cheap-looking bangle—that still has half a price tag stuck onto it—from his pocket before tossing it onto the couch casually. "This bangle is for you, Maya. It's the most popular style this year." As I pick up the mass-produced bangle that can be found in any accessory store, I feel the coldness of my fingertips seeping into my heart. It turns out that Alpha Ethan thinks he can easily fool me with a random gift despite me being the Luna. Yet, the she-wolf—whose identity he refuses to give away—gets to enjoy the protection he has risked his life obtaining for her sake.