In Cold Blood Audiobook Free นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Third person POV The safe house was a tomb of cold stone and flickering candlelight. Outside, the world was ending in a cacophony of wolf howls and arcane explosions, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and the metallic tang of Kahlan’s blood as her body continued to burn through the sedative. "Basically, everyone has their own part to play," Freya said, her voice trembling as she stood by the heavy oak table.

A gasp of shock escaped me as the flames retracted and I could have a better look at the Bloody General. ** You can read Alev's book (The Golden Dragon's Surrogate) for f.ree on Kindl.e unlimited. For more information, join my group: T. R. Durant's Realm of Light and Fire

His voice had gone flat, stripped down to something almost clinical, the same defense mechanism she used herself when a case got too close to the bone, the same trick of the mind that let her hands keep working long after her heart had already started breaking for a patient. "Marco fired through the driver's window. Two shots. Clean, by the standards we used to measure that kind of thing. I went to the car after, to check for anything worth taking before it burned. That's when I opened the back door." He stopped again. This time the silence stretched long enough that Mira heard her own pulse in her ears, the old clinical part of her already bracing for whatever came next, cataloguing his voi

VALERIA The book fell from my hands and landed on the floor with a thud. The last time I was this petrified was when I was hiding, watching my parents being murdered. And I felt like because all things were pointing towards the same thing happening to me, getting killed by a werewolf that hated the existence of vampires for some reason. The feeling of someone touching my shoulder had me jerking away, triggering my instinct to fight. But it was just Marcello's concerned face that I saw when I turned. His eyebrows were furrowed as he observed me carefully, then he asked,

The Sentinel stood close to a small drop. He had a pale face. Shaken. Fearful. Mason insisted, "What is it?" The young wolf gestured. No one said anything. A man sat below the ledge. Mud-covered. Drenched in blood. Barely awake. Frank Cole Alive. No one moved for a single heartbeat. Not Mason. Not Harper. Not me. Not Grayson. Frank then raised his head, and grinned. My spine went cold at what I saw. Since relief wasn't what it was.

And he looked like someone who had just been through hell. For me. I swallowed my saliva to moisten my suddenly dry throat. How could he be here? Did he read my message to Greg? Slowly, he walked towards me without saying a word, but before reaching the middle of the room, his body froze suddenly. With horror, I saw him raise his head slightly and take a deep breath, his eyes changing from dark blue to black instantly. His breath became slightly erratic as his gaze returned to me. "Did he give you his blood?"

“That’s when I’ll let you go. Not to freedom, but to the only place you belong.” He reached for the blade again, his movements deliberate. “Now, let’s see how much you can take before you break.” The basement of Aaron's penthouse was filled with screams of a huge man who once used to make others scream, it was filled with his own begging and pleas and screams, and this was what satisfied Aaron's insides , at least a bit. Pleasure as well as fury flew inside his blood with every scream of Alex, his misery was nothing compared to all those lives he had stained.

The night echoed with the muffled sounds of the struggle, a symphony of conflict playing out in the shadows. As we approached the main entrance, Yaz's voice came through the earpiece. "The path is clear. Moving inside." The warehouse loomed before us, a fortress of secrets guarded by Mikhail's loyal enforcers. The real battle lay ahead. The doors creaked open, revealing the dimly lit expanse within. Crates and barrels, the currency of the underworld, stood as silent witnesses to the imminent clash. Suddenly, shots rang out, breaking the silence. The firefight erupted, each gunshot a note in the clashing melody of battle. We moved with practiced precision, cutting through Mikhail's defenses l

I screamed, feeling on the verge of losing my mind. Blood was dripping from my fingers, but I didn't even feel the pain as I gripped the blade. Mom didn't even glance at my injury. She nodded firmly. "Yes!"

My world narrows on the pool of blood forming around the body, soaking into the white suit. There's something oddly colorful about the stain of blood on a white fabric. Perhaps, more so, because it is Donovan's. Numbing cold flows from my toes to my fingertips and I feel it reaching into my chest as I glance up from the body to catch Zefiro lowering his gun. There.