Lethal Obsession Ready Or Not Novels & Stories

He watched the confident set of Anton’s shoulders, but his peripheral vision was locked on the monitor’s edges, on the shadowy wings of the stage, on the distant balconies. Anton was reaching his crescendo, pointing to the evidence of the blackout code, the architecture of the financial kill-switch. “This is not competition,” his voice rang out. “This is predation. And it ends today—” The shot was not a loud crack. It was a soft, wet pfft—the sound of a high-grade, suppressed rifle from extreme range. It was the sound Sabatine’s nightmares were made of.

“But I never would’ve put her in his crosshairs.” Zoey swirled her drink. “Maybe she put herself there.” Before I could answer, the elevator pinged, and two of my crew stepped out, Nico and Ash. Nico had that permanent smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made everyone wonder if he was amused or seconds away from killing someone. Ash was quieter, leaner, a shadow that always saw too much. “Boss,” Nico said, nodding toward the mess on the floor. “Are you decorating or losing it again?”

the figure said, his voice synthesized and cold, "the entity known as the Obsidian Beast is to be contained for observation. Any resistance will be met with immediate termination." Aiden stepped forward, the floor beneath his feet frosting instantly, a web of white crystalline ice spreading from his heels. He didn't feel the fear he expected. He felt the cold reaching out, a hungry, ravenous beast desperate to feed. "Observation," Aiden echoed, his voice dropping an octave, sounding hollow and devoid of emotion. "You aren't here to observe. You're here to be fuel." "Target identified," the soldier remarked, raising a long, slender rifle that hummed with arcane energy.

She turned her attention back to the handsome man she'd been talking to, who was now leaning in close to her, clearly enamored. I settled onto the stool nearest to me, sipping the drink slowly. The lime and rum flavors mixed together, creating a sharp, refreshing taste. The music was pumping through my veins, and my body began to sway to the beat. All around me, people were dancing, kissing, and grinding against each other. It was a dizzying scene, filled with energy and passion. I felt a strange sense of exhilaration, watching the room spin with life.

Gabriel added as he turned to Alves. Ray beamed with joy at the mention of his name. "So, we'll proceed to the slum tomorrow and get all the necessary weapons we'll be needing for this mission" Gabriel said to them. "I can't wait to bang out people's brains" Ray said with a sinister smile on his face Eden flinched. Was he really going to handle a gun? He asked himself. "I hope you'll be ready to work with my instructions cause I can't work with someone who's not ready to follow instructions" Alves said as he turned to Ray.

“They're all dead.” “Are you a cop?” My breath rasped in my throat. “Who are you?” “Marco Vitale.” He said coolly. His eyes remained on me like he wanted to catch my genuine reaction. “Like…you mean…the Black Requiem? The infamous Italian mob boss—Marco Vitale?” He grunted a deep approving sound from his throat. “You're well informed.”

“Huh? But I’m with a friend. I should tell her to leave—” “It’s alright. A friend of yours is a friend of mine. It’ll be my treat.” He chuckled, his voice deep and husky. “I’ve been waiting for this day for far too long.” [Holy cow! Here comes the showdown I live for!] [Don’t back down now, girl! Camden is totally all over you. Let him come. Show Poppy what a catch she has lost. I bet she’ll be weeping on the floor soon enough!] As her eyes sparkled, Cassie shared her coordinates.

Unnoticeable. --- I strike. --- Silence. The girl collapses. Still. Unmoving. --- “Good,” he says. Satisfied. Pleased. Certain. --- But he’s wrong. Because as I step back— as I turn away— as the system confirms compliance— something doesn’t align. --- The angle. The force. The impact. Calculated. Precise. --- Non-lethal. --- My eyes flicker once. Just once. Toward the body. No movement. No reaction.

Brianna perched on a server rack, bat across her lap like a scepter, red lipstick smeared from laughing, thighs rubbing under her jeans. Big Daddy Burrito loomed behind Layla, metal hand protective on her bare thigh, thumb tracing slow filthy circles, the heat from his chassis making her skin tingle, cock twitching under his panel like it wanted in on the fun. Layla crunched a kernel loud, salt on her lips, eyes locked on Rex and Milo—pants pooled at ankles, cocks half-hard from fear and secret want, the warehouse stinking of burnt circuits and fresh cum. “We’re the judges now” she said, voice lazy and venom-sweet. “No filming. Yet. Impress us—or we post your bisexual meme pages to your moms

I can't differentiate between my limbs, everything hurts, from my head down to my toes, everything hurts and it is so cold, why is it so cold and warm at the same time? Water. I need to drink water. "Look look, she is trying to say something." "Well, lean closer and hear what she has to say." "Why can't you do it?" "What if she bites my ears off or something?" Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. I kept chanting that silently in my head until I felt one of them lean closer and I could smell the heavy scent of a wolf and blood mixed. My sense organs are not usually this sharp unless it is... a full moon. No wonder.