How Old Is Leon In Death Island

His breaths were erratic, and mine weren’t any different. Something has shifted and he it was no longer what it used to be between us. No psychic is needed to spell that out. But how? He’s Noel, the guy I’ve sworn to spend the rest of my life tormenting. And I’m Cheryl, the girl he’s promised to never know peace.

I knew the exact moment when everything changed. It was the day in March, the same one I got assaulted by my boss, lost my job, saved my pregnant sister from committing suicide, and as if it wasn’t enough… it was the day Kieran King walked into my life. I hated Kieran from the moment I laid my eyes on him for the first time. He was an arrogant bastard that turned my life upside down, and no matter how much I despised him, I also could not live without him. He blackmailed me, used me, he was cruel and rough, and I wanted nothing more than to get away… but he also saved my life and protected me when I needed it the most. Now I don’t know if I can leave anymore. My name is Sophia Howard and this is my story.

That night, Liam served me my usual evening tea. I trusted him completely—he was my mate, after all, and a respected healer of Thornpack. I shouldn't have. When I woke up the next morning, my head was spinning. The special safe where I kept the morphing inhibitor—the one I'd spent my entire savings to import from Europe for our daughter Isla—was empty. Racing to the healing center, I found Liam celebrating. He was handing out moon-blessed wine, beaming with pride as Natalie's daughter Anna showed off her perfect transformation. My inhibitor had been used on his first love's pup instead of our own daughter. The shock triggered something in my brain. When I collapsed, they diagnosed me with the rare tumor that plagued our kind. Without inhibitors, I couldn't stop Isla's transformation that came early, her six year old body couldn't handle the massive wolf form and the force ripped through her young body. And I, for one, don't even have enough money to keep her in a treatment center. She died in my arms three days later, her little claws drawing blood as the pain overwhelmed her. Until her last breath, she kept asking why Papa hadn't come. Now, in my cold, empty home, with the white porcelain urn containing her ashes on the table, I touch her and decide to sever our partnership.

My father, Benjamin Ward, was bedridden, paralyzed, and unable to move. The AI model he spent his entire life developing—a model powerful enough to cure terminal diseases—had been stolen and published under someone else's name. Humiliated beyond endurance, he suffered a stroke and collapsed. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even write. I swore I'd find the thief who destroyed him. My girlfriend, Maris Dawn, wept and promised to help me uncover the truth. But at a dinner party, when her first love proudly announced that he'd been specially recruited by a national research lab thanks to that very model, she immediately grabbed my arm, whispering, "Don't make a scene. Grayson just wants a good future. Don't ruin his life." Grayson Vale smirked with disdain. "The old man was about to retire anyway. Think of it as recycling waste." My vision went red. I charged at him, ready to make him pay for what he'd done to my father. Maris tripped me before I could reach him. She threw a check for ten million in my face. "Here's for your dad's medical care. Don't be shameless, alright? Grayson is a rising star. You're just a broke grad student. You should learn your place." I tore the check apart, piece by piece. That check could never buy the Dawn family a future in the world of science.

I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal. He's holding a fake confession letter with my forged signature, storming into my old apartment in the rust district, only to find it empty. Frustrated, he grabs the corner store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I am. The owner pauses, wiping his hands on his apron, calmly tells him: "Serafine? She died five years ago." "Heard it was retaliation from a rival family during the gang war. They ambushed her in an alley... shot her over a dozen times. She died immediately." My husband, Lucien, refuses to believe it. Convinced the owner is on my payroll, hiding me to help me escape his reach. He scoffs, his eyes filled with scorn: "Oh, so what? Because I called her out for messing up that last job, now she's throwing a tantrum?" "You tell her, if she doesn't come back and take the fall in three days, I'll revoke her grandmother's 'special family protection'! Let the old woman rot!" With that, he storms out, his rage still simmering. The owner watches him leave and sighs, shaking his head. "There's no grandmother left to protect... That woman passed away not long after Serafine did... couldn't survive the winter without our family's medical supplies and protection..."

All because he believed I pushed Elena down the stairs out of jealousy. Six months ago, a rival family drugged Alexander. Elena saved him and got pregnant. Her family disowned her for it. "Ivy, why can't you just let her be?" Alexander choked me, disappointment and rage in his eyes. "She saved my life! I promised to send her away. Why be so vicious to an unborn child? If anything happens to them, I'll bury you with them." I didn't argue. I just planned an explosion. But when I vanished, the high-and-mighty Don went mad.

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

On my birthday, Connor Simpson's first love jumped off a building due to depression. She died on the spot. Connor blamed everything on me. I never celebrated my birthday again after she died. After the murderer electrocuted me for more than ten hours, they forced me to call Connor. "Connor, it's my 25th birthday today. Can you come over and spend time with me?" However, Connor did not notice anything unusual. His voice was laced with venomous iciness. "Clarisse Winter, Audrey wouldn't have died if it weren't for you. How dare you ask me to celebrate your birthday? If only you were the one who died." I heard him coaxing a woman on the other end just before he hung up on me. That low and gentle tone was what I loved to hear the most in the past. That night, the murderer cut my body into countless pieces, packed them in bags, and threw them in front of the police station. Connor was summoned back overnight. He spent two days and two nights piecing together the body parts, but he did not realize that the dead person was the wife that he hated the most.

She was her own person and knew exactly what she wanted. He owned the whole damn thing and thought he could do anything. She had something he wanted but didn't know. He had what she'd always dreamed of, but she had no idea how to achieve it. She lied out of love. He didn't forgive anyone. She hated him from the first time she saw him. He tried to destroy her in every way possible. Bárbara Novaes never imagined that her peaceful life would suddenly turn upside down, when a deathbed request would make her main objective to enter the life of the best-known CEO in the country. Heitor Casanova has never seen a woman as persecuting and insistent as Barbara. But it didn't cross her mind that she didn't want the same thing as everyone else: "him". The bond that united them would force the two to live under the same roof, with a single common goal: to protect what they loved most. Is it possible for mutual anger to turn into love? Would they admit the new feelings that were emerging that they were not able to accept? And would they overcome together all the obstacles that would be created to prevent this relationship from happening??? My first enemies to lovers and CEO together!!! What will it do??? I don't know. Want to find out with me??? Cover: Larah Mattos

Dean Romero is not your average Tiger Shifter. He is the king or the Neta of the Island Stripe Pride, operating out of Manhattan. Wanting to avoid the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, this Neta elects to spend Christmas at his newly built cabin in a remote section of the Pine Barrens just outside of Maccon City, New Jersey. A town notorious among supernaturals for its Shifter ties. Violet Martinez is a nail technician stuck working on the holidays. Asked to make a house call she has no choice but to drive to an important client’s house on Christmas Eve. She’d much rather be at home curled up with her favorite mug full of steaming spiked hot chocolate and a marathon of old black and white movies to keep her company. Resigned to her fate, she heads out in the wintry weather which has made the drive nearly impossible. Halfway there, Violet’s car spins out on a lonely stretch of road and she slams into a tree, hitting her head on the dashboard. Passing out in the cold with a head injury was not on Violet’s Christmas list, but good thing there’s a Tiger king who just happens to be out for a run nearby. When Dean gets a whiff of Violet’s sugar cookie scent all bets are off. This Neta wants her for his own, but will the dark-haired beauty accept him and agree to be his bride this Christmas?