Juniper And Thorn นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It pulses in time with her heartbeat, a steady thud-thud that seems to push the shadows back. But the shadows are getting bolder. She can hear them. The rogues are no longer hiding. They are running parallel to her through the thicket, their heavy breathing and snapping jaws echoing through the trees. There are at least three of them. They are waiting for her to stumble. They are waiting for the exact moment she gives up. "Not today," Juniper whispers, her voice cracking. "I'm not... a snack." She trips over a thick root and slams into the dirt. The Moon-Stone skitters a few feet away, its violet glow dimming.

​He reached the spire and pulled me into his arms, his chest heaving, his eyes filled with a desperate, terrified love. ​“You’re here,” he whispered. “You’re actually here.” ​“I’m everywhere, Thorne,” I said, my voice fading as the teleportation protocol reached its limit. “The North… the East… the South… we’re all linked now. The harvest is failing, Thorne. The Seeds are waking up.” ​“Then let them wake up,” Thorne said, his grip tightening as I began to dissolve back into turquoise light. “We’ll be waiting for them.”

I forced myself not to clench my jaw. “Today, we begin with the wolves,” she continued. “Specifically, the history of the northern packs, Runebound, Thornspire… and Bloodpine.” That got a reaction. Kellan tensed. Thorne straightened slightly in his chair. And me? My gut coiled.

Ivy I stood frozen as the names bled across the screen, each one more damning than the last. Lucien’s name—etched in red—flashed like a branding iron across my mind. Authorization Level RED. THORN01 – ACTIVE. THORN02 – DECEASED. THORN03 – UNKNOWN. Beneath it, a timestamp: nearly a decade ago. His signature. His access. His creation. The truth tasted like rust on my tongue. He hadn’t just been part of the story.

As soon as Donald spat out that particular last name, he picked up the teacup from the table and took a huge gulp from it. "The Thorns?" Tyler narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're… talking about the Thorns? As in one of the Four Powerhouses in Jetterpolis?" "Of course. Is there any other family bearing that last name which is capable of fighting against the Hawkes on the same level?" "The Thorns and the Hawkes have kept to their own lanes for many years now. Why would the Thorns help me out?" Tyler asked gruffly. He sounded quite wary. The Thorns had always kept a low profile, but their methods were very brutal and ruthless. One could never predict their next move.

*Thorn* As I step into the mayor’s office, the atmosphere thickens with tension, swirling like the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. The room is lavishly decorated, a stark contrast to the gritty underworld I’ve known for so long. But no amount of opulence can mask the wary glances exchanged among the high-ranking Alphas gathered around the polished mahogany table. I can feel their scrutiny, each gaze a silent accusation, a reminder of the chasm that still separates us.

Thorne: It had been five years since the death of his mom and abduction of his mate, and just as he had spent every evening since her funeral, Thorne stood before at the tree planted where his mother was buried, in her honor. The tree, a sturdy silver oak, stands tall and proud, its bark shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. Despite being only five years old, it has grown remarkably fast, its branches stretching towards the sky like outstretched arms, providing a canopy of shade and comfort. The leaves, a vibrant green, rustle softly in the breeze, releasing a gentle whisper of wisdom and peace.

_ *Part 7 – The Last Swing, Day 67, Dusk* Varga and Thorn were still standing when sun touched the peaks. Both bleeding from a dozen cuts. Both breathing like bellows. “You’ll die here,” Varga said, but respect was in his voice now. “And for what? People who won’t even carve your name on stone?” Thorn’s spear was chipped. His good arm trembled. “I don’t need my name on stone. I need Kade’s name in the spring census. That’s enough.” Varga swung. Thorn ducked. Drove his spear up under Varga’s ribs. Into the heart.

Leila checked the time on her wristwatch for the sixth time that morning. She moaned as she slumped against the car seat; it was nearly nine o'clock, the first period would have ended, and she would have already missed her Chemical techniques test. She used to be a straight-A student in junior year, but her grades began to slip as she entered senior year. Ms. Annabeth, the chemical techniques tutor, was the only teacher who seemed genuinely concerned about this and took the time to talk to her. She'd promised her that she'd work on herself and try harder to read, but now she'd not even been on time to take her test!

Dimitri raised his head from Dante's shoulder, "give up? When I'm only two months away to finishing? Hell no. I'll probably get disowned but I don't care at this point. They can't keep controlling me like I'm some game character. You know what, I'm gonna clean my tears. I'm hungry, do you have anything at home?" Dante smiled. His best friend's sass is back. Dante and Dimitri have known each other since middle school. They went to the same highschool and got admitted into the same university. They parted ways when Dante moved to Saint Hok for his residency but they stayed in touch. They are each other's other halves. Though they are the complete opposite. Dante is the calm one while Dimitri i