Kenough Scene

Tantalizing crimson eyes and jet black hair were all Lily could remember in the features of the enigmatic young man who saved her ten years ago when she was kidnapped. One day, she accidentally saw him again after ten years in the middle of a busy street in an unexplainable situation. Time froze for few seconds, people around her stopped moving, and in his snap of finger defreezes time, as the car in front of him lose control and crashed with the nearby truck. She was left dazed by what had just happened in front of her. The scene shocked her and triggered her memory of him. "The guy who saved me was no human," she murmured staring blankly, remembering their uncanny encounter a decade ago. "Grim Reaper?" Confusion was written on her face. He shook his head. "Non, I am Doom, and I bring death to people." After the street incident, she couldn't forget his face and his lines kept replaying in her dreams like a broken tape which made her wonder if this was part of the after-effects of her trauma or if it was destiny that aligned their stars to collide.

He promised to protect him from a killer. He never said he was one. When journalist Ian Parker witnesses a brutal murder, he should have been the killer's next victim. Instead, he wakes up in the hospital, saved by Zhedya Hunter…a brilliant forensic pathologist, a reclusive CEO, and a man with chilling grey eyes that feel hauntingly familiar. Charismatic and dangerously possessive, Zhedya offers Ian shelter in his opulent penthouse, a gilded cage where every comfort is a chain. As Zhedya's obsession deepens, Ian's career skyrockets, with damning evidence against the city's most wanted criminals mysteriously falling into his hands. But each exclusive story comes with a price: a fractured memory, a drugged haze, and a growing pile of bodies connected to anyone who threatens their twisted paradise. Now, Ian is trapped in a nightmare of luxury and lies, unraveling a truth more terrifying than any headline: his savior is a predator, his sanctuary is a crime scene, and the man who claims to love him is the most prolific murderer he will ever interview. Learning how to love a murderer is easy. Surviving him is the real story.

I had been in a relationship with Zachary Dawson for seven years and engaged for three when, out of the blue, Ruby White, the daughter of his mentor, moved into our home. Sitting casually on the bed that Zachary and I shared, Ruby lounged with an air of nonchalance, her voice playful and teasing. "Zachary, the dental god, sure has a nice bed," she remarked with a smirk. "I can only imagine what it would be like to spend the night with him in this bed." I captured the scene on my phone and sent the video to our family group chat with a brief message: Looks like Zachary might have a new girlfriend Zachary rushed home, wrapping his arms protectively around a tearful Ruby. He pointed at me, his voice seething with anger. "My mentor's dying wish was for me to take care of Ruby! If you can't accept that, then move out!" Honestly, my brows furrowed deeper than the wrinkles on the bedsheets Ruby had sat on. Fine. I didn't need the bed, and I didn't need a fiancé anymore.

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

I was anonymously reported for fraudulent credit card use and arrested. The victim turned out to be my own husband. I pulled out my phone to show them our marriage certificate to prove my innocence, but the police officer frowned as he looked at me. "Ma'am, the Lucas Richardson on this certificate is not your husband. You're still unmarried." I could not believe it and asked the officer to check again immediately. He looked at me with sympathy, but quickly spoke again, "Our records show that Lucas Richardson's spouse is Vivian Clarke and that they have a three-year-old child together. Ma'am, if you cannot prove your relationship with him, you will face criminal detention." I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Six years ago, Lucas had a secretary named Vivian who was obsessively in love with him. On the day Lucas and I got married, she caused a scene and threatened suicide. In the end, he had to personally handle the situation for three days before coming home. It turned out that his solution was to marry Vivian instead.

I heard a small "come in" from the other end. Grabbing the knob, I twist it before pushing the door open. My eyes widened as I saw the scene unfold in front of me. Xavier stood there in the room along with a woman whose brown hair ruffled all over the place. Her blood-red lipstick was smudged. She was dressed in a revealing top. Her breast almost spilling out of her dress and extra tight and small skirt as if she'd just come from some club, her arms crossed and her features amused. She looked strangely familiar for some reason, and it took me a while to identify her, but I did. She was the same woman I had bumped into on the market. My eyes swiftly turned to Xavier. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one Xavier wore with the top few buttons open. What caught my eyes the most was the lipstick stain on his neck identical to the one the woman had on. My heart slumped in deep dejection. It wasn't any science- rocket to know what had occurred here before my arrival.

Blaze shoved Carlo hard, his breath ragged. “Get the hell out of my way! I don’t need your help.” Carlo caught his balance, his lips curling into a taunting smirk. “Really? Because it looks like you’re drowning without me.” "And no matter where you go, I'll be the only man you'll come back to" Carlo slurs. **** Blaze is a street racer trying to pay off his father’s debt, desperate to win his freedom. Carlo is a rich son of a powerful family, living a life of luxury that Blaze can only dream of. But there’s one thing Carlo can’t buy—true passion. When the underground racing scene throws them into competition, their rivalry heats up. But after an unexpected one-night stand, a new kind of tension sparks between them. Suddenly, Blaze and Carlo find themselves drawn to each other in a way they never imagined. Now, they have to decide if they can put their hatred aside and risk everything for a love neither of them saw coming. But what happens when Blaze finds out Carlo's secret?

Alice is a loving and caring child to her adopted parents and she is very happy but she hides the sadness and fear in the brilliance of her smile. after the ugly scene that Alice witnessed inside the house of the man in black whom, she met endangering her life, they will meet again in a situation that Alice did not expect. Alice's mind and heart were full of fear but that was covered when Alice met Joshua. The heartless Fellow Billionaire Joshua. A living Lucifer but a demon-like person. Joshua will soften when he met the angelic beauty of the face of the woman that is Full of scars on her body And face but her face got Joshua's full attention. From the day that Joshua saw Alice in her miserable situation, he promised to protect her in any way he can do but for him to do that he needed, wanted rather marry Alice. will Alice can stop her heart from beating very fast whenever Joshua is near to her and fight to never fall in love with her husband or will she let her heart to beat like a running horse to her devil husband but an angel savior. “I married my devil, angel saviour.”

On a quest for vengeance, Adaliah Carter is coincidentally mated to the son of the Alpha who has a hand in her parents’ and pack’s extinction. Believing it as the work of the moon goddess, she willingly accepts the bond, and her plan to get rid of the whole pack of her mate kicks in, all with the help of another survivor of her pack’s crisis. She tries to blend in with the new pack she has fallen into, gets in a seeming love triangle with her mate and his ex-betrothed, and even builds a good relationship with her mate’s sister whom she eventually uses to get a clue into her past. Over time, all of her discoveries as to what caused her pack’s extinction are all directed to her identity as a hybrid. Secrets are revealed, and what will happen when she finds out she isn’t a threat to the wolves but all part of a piece to cover up a longtime evil deed? ____________ Note to Readers: The story is written in both first and third person point of view. But in order not to be confused, do note that only the lead character will maintain the first person. When it's a scene involving the other characters, it will be in third person.

Hot. Fast. Dangerous. Only two things are capable of sating my hunger: racing and women. I’m a devil behind the wheel, and there isn’t another man in New York City who can beat me. Nor any dumb enough to try. But there was a woman who could. My ex-wife, Evie. And she did. Messed me up real good. Thanks to her, I gave up my dream of racing, but I can’t run from fate forever. The evil bastards at her side have taken over the underground racing scene, but I’m diving back in deep. With my focus on the road, the last thing I need is a distraction, but that’s just what Laina is. My best friend’s little sister feels off limits, until she isn’t. Perfect curves and a smile that could melt hearts, this woman has me wanting to say yes from the start. She’s relentless and drives me mad with the desire to be bad one more time—just for her. I might be outracing demons, but I’m not running from anything. Not me. Not ever again.