Novel & Cerita Itadori Scars

He smirked opening the zip of my top. I didn't know from where I got the strength and dare,I kicked on his manhood who never get satisfied. He bawled in pain but grabbed my hairs . "You flesh of a whore.I will cut your little wings."Saying this he picked a knife from the table and jabbed it in my abdomen. Victor Niccoli. This name had given me the deepest scars on my soul that can never be healed. He had given me the deepest scars that even dunes of good memories can't blemish with their healing power.

How could she be so similar to Kiara yet so different? Jonas, who had been simmering with irritation, abruptly stood up, his hand clamped around Lisa’s arm and tugging. He muttered something about not feeling well and needing to leave. I had no choice but to nod in approval. But just as Jonas was about to whisk Lisa away, I caught sight of a familiar scar on the back of Lisa’s neck. It was identical to Kiara’s, a memento from a horseback riding incident. Kiara had fallen off her horse when she was sixteen, and the saddle had cut her skin. I had kissed that scar many times, tracing it with my tongue. It was a part of her, a part of us.

It seemed the moon goddess had decided to teach her a lesson for not being with her true love. “And it’ll remain dark and gray until you’re taken care of.” Bellamy grinned, casually peeling off his shirt as I glanced his way. I was taken aback by the sight—his torso was covered in an array of scars, each one a testament to a violent past. There were numerous tattoos and dog tags scattered across his skin, but it was the scars that truly drew attention. They looked like relics from a bygone era, as if he’d been sliced or hacked in ways reminiscent of old punishments for rebellious pack members. “Hey, everyone gets a cut!” he joked, but his expression was anything but lighthearted. “I wanna se

Too afraid. “You were burning up,” he says. I try to sit. The world tips. His hand steadies my back. “Slowly.” “Raiders?” “Delayed.” His mouth tightens. “Not gone.” I look down. My hand is still on my belly. The vision returns in flashes. The ribs. The Queen. Ashen’s howl. The moon turning white. I lift my shirt enough to see the scar. Kael goes still. The spiral is pale.

So he sent Gilbert downstairs to keep an eye out while the both of them talked. Jai dragged one of the benches and sat on it. “The only clue I got from Arata is the word ‘Scar’. That’s it. I mean, I know one of the kidnappers, Hayate, has a scar on his face. But we already know that. So this has got to do with something else.” Baji nodded. “Mmhm. What do you think of it?” Jai stared at the older man in slight confusion. “I thought the lecture’s done?”

I never liked people getting too close to me. It might have been my survival instincts and trust issues, but I'm used to people being cruel. With both my parents gone, years of surviving as a lone wolf taught me to expect only the worst in humans. Kindness isn't something I see every day. Scar watches me as I wrap up the cuts around my hand with a white cloth. As his name says, he has quite a glaring scar that runs from his left eye to the side of his jaw. His bare chest shows numerous tattoos and battle marks. A leather belt hangs on his waist, securing a pair of cargo pants.

As he moved, the moonlight caught the skin of his back. Amora’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Oscar in work shirts and t-shirts, but she had never seen him bare-backed. Crisscrossing across his broad, muscular shoulders and running all the way down his spine were thick, pale, jagged scars. They weren't the clean marks left by a wolf’s claws during a fair fight. These were deep, twisted tracks—the kind left by silver-tipped whips or heavy, electrified batons. Without thinking, driven by a healer’s instinct she had inherited from her father, Amora reached out. Her fingertips softly brushed against the edge of a thick scar near his shoulder blade.

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.

See doing what he does for a living he was able to tell what's what with regards to the way people reacted , then again his world was all about instant gratification, and fun. Iris turned around to make sure everything was alright. She had taken her scarf off mid conversation with Javier on the plane and forgotten that she had his hoodie on . Her hair was tied up in a coiled bun. Most of Irisis' stab wounds had healed and the scars were fading the wound on the lower back end of her neck left a nasty scar. She had forgotten about it. In a way it had become a part of her . When Javier saw the scar ; the first thing that crossed his mind was ; how and when did something sinister happen to Iris.

It looked nothing like the horrific scar he had seen before, which made him hold his breath just by looking at it. How was that possible? He reluctantly grabbed her waist and angled her to turn to the other side. All he saw was her pale white flesh. There was not the mildest hint of a red scar. That was impossible. He remembered that Ifrit was severely injured when she rescued him, and that it left a hideous scar. A scar that looked suspiciously like the one Freya had. Sensing his distraction, Ifrit assumed it was because he was concerned about her safety and gently whispered, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”