La Guerrera Capitulo 20 Novels & Stories

As one my fighters voices soared with mine, our courage indomitable beneath the ancient sentinels. River gasping against a redwood bole, axe leveled at this throat. Jeremy snarls "Ready to surrender, mangy cur?" Rivero smiles cruelly even as blood bubbles on his lips. "Why Captain, this is but the opening gambit. By sundown all you hold dear will be ash on the wind!" Jeremy recoils eyes wide with dawning horror. Chaos erupted as a hulking Rogue warrior burst from the underbrush, barreling straight towards me with a guttural bellow. I pivoted at the last instant, his claws cleaving only air as I spun beyond reach.

The words landed hard. Because she already knew they were true. Now that she had seen Guerero fight with her own eyes, she could no longer lie to herself. Then suddenly, Guerero saw Genaro. And something inside him snapped. His eyes turned wild instantly. No strategy. No caution. Just rage. He charged straight at Genaro. Danika barely had time to react. Guerero slammed into her shoulder as he rushed forward, throwing her violently aside. She crashed hard against the ground.

The Guardian's arm bent the wrong way. The second soldier attacked immediately. Luca sidestepped. Grabbed the man's shoulder. Used his momentum against him. And slammed him headfirst into a tree. The impact sounded painful. Extremely painful. The third Guardian hesitated. Just for a second. Just long enough. Luca drove an elbow into his throat. The armored soldier collapsed instantly. Three Guardians. Less than ten seconds. Done. Yet Luca wasn't smiling. Wasn't relieved. Because something felt wrong. Very wrong.

Hunter’s eyes shifted from the gun to Guiller, his fists clenching at his sides. "I don’t have time to kill you right now—I’ve got bigger things to deal with. But if you still want to end it all, go ahead," Guiller said before turning and walking out with Antonio’s men. Hunter stood there, frozen, watching Guiller’s back as he disappeared through the door. “How’d it go?” Don Antonio asked when Guiller got into the car where the elder was waiting. “He’ll come around," Guiller said confidently. “Any updates on Lady Aleah?” he asked, shifting the conversation.

THE GUERRA ESTATE ~ SPAIN Gabriella burst into her father’s study at the Guerra estate. Her hair was messy, her makeup streaked, and her eyes were wild with anger. “He humiliated me!” she yelled. “He threw me out like trash!” She didn’t wait for Esteban to respond. “Alejandro had his guards drag me out and throw me into the street!” she cried. “For her! For that American nothing!” Esteban Guerra sat behind his black-marble desk, calm and silent. His silver hair was perfectly combed, his face unreadable, his cold blue eyes fixed on the papers in front of him.

The cracking sound did not stop as his rib bones kept breaking. The warrior coughed up blood, and the look in his eyes gradually glazed over. "You—" "Quiet!" Chase stepped down once more with a cold look on his face. The warrior's head cracked open. His body stiffened and his eyes were wide with fear and shock. Up until his death, he did not know what kind of person he had offended. The warrior was the second-in-command of the Weber guards but ended up dying in the hand of this man whom he had presumed to be an ant.

She was as intriguing as the starlit heavens he’d often wanted to explore, but never had. A warrior’s time was never his own. Once he became one of the elite Shadowmen and served as a Blood Hunter, his life belonged to the Guardian Forces. Even now that he was too weak to fight, time still wasn’t his. Not with Herrera threatening to destroy her. He couldn’t resist taking a moment more, though. He went to brush his finger along her cheek just to feel the realness of her, but saw her stiffen and an expression of pain settle upon her features. She’d been through so much. Instead of touching her face, he brushed the bloodstained front of her dress that Herrera had cut. A thin red line marked the

“Can you elaborate on the degree of suffering you are looking at, Mr. Guerra?” “I want his head on a platter sent back to his father, and this guy,” I said, pointing at the picture of the escort who abused me. “His head must be brought to me. Little Guilia may need a present for summer,” I said to him, and a smile spread across his lips. “To conquering the white-scarred mafia.” He raised a glass, and then we sipped to our victory.

Suddenly, Roberto called out from the darkness. "Captain Terry!" His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the night as figures began to emerge from the surrounding trees. Captain Terry, a hardened guerrilla leader known for his ruthlessness, stepped forward, flanked by his men. They had come running at the sound of the explosions, ready to assist. Terry’s sharp eyes immediately took in the situation—the defeated Japanese soldiers, the bodies strewn about, and the few captives still alive. His jaw clenched with grim satisfaction.

the captain said, his voice trembling. Closer now, the chanting rose, a wave of sound that shook the ground itself. “Guerrero Valanti! Guerrero Valanti! All hail Guerrero Valanti!” The cries echoed off walls and rooftops, reverberating through the city. The earth quaked beneath their feet. Lucia stepped back, clutching the railing. “Oh no… he survived,” she whispered. “This… this cannot be real.” She turned to her soldiers. “Arm yourselves! Prepare! He must not enter the gates!”