Lirik Lagu The Final Countdown

The werewolves launched a massive invasion of the Elf Forest had been burned, half my people were dead, and my parents were missing. The Elf Queen asked me to go to Damien Thorne and make him stop the war. Damien Thorne. Alpha King of the North, my True Mate, the boy I'd grown up with. His sister Sera was the youngest of the three of us, and my best friend. A year ago, Sera vanished after a secret meeting. I walked out of the forest alive. He didn't — and to him, that was proof enough. He went mad. He burned the sacred trees, slaughtered my people, turned every drop of his hate on me. But he still loved me. So I went. He locked me in his study and fucked me for nine days. Even when I slept,his eyes full of something I couldn't read — madness, and pain. On the tenth day, he kissed his way down my spine, so gentle I let myself think it wasn't too late. The next second, the dagger went into my shoulder blade, straight through the root of my light-wing. The pain detonated from my spine to the crown of my skull. "Shh. Don't scream." He pressed my face into the pillow. "These nine days were the warm-up. Tell me where Sera is." He locked me in the dungeon. He used my people's lives as a leash. He married another she-wolf. The cold-iron whip came down. Each welt sealed itself shut against the iron-poison's burn, then split open again. Every strike felt like a red-hot brand pressed into my skin and ground in. It would never heal. But every time I came close to dying, it was him who tipped the antidote down my throat himself. His fingers shook. His eyes carried a tenderness he hated himself for. The night he got drunk, he crushed me against his chest. "You think I love you, so you can do this to me. Tell me where Sera is, and I'll let you go." I couldn't say it.The moment I opened my mouth, it would burn to ash. I wouldn't have to keep this secret much longer. An elf away from the forest for one full year is dead. No exceptions. I had two days left.

For ten years, I was Vincent's blood bag and his sharpest blade. I offered my rare blood to sustain his ancient power. I offered my loyalty to secure his throne as the Vampire Lord of this territory. I thought my devotion might earn me the eternal embrace of the turning. Instead, I received the announcement of his marriage to Lilith. A princess from a powerful European vampire clan. He said it was a necessary alliance. He said my blood was still precious. But when the sanctified silver tearing through the car,he used my body as a shield, to ensure his bride remained unblemished. That's when I knew. I was never his lover. I was just a consumable resource, a blood bag to be used and discarded. So, when I was ordered to become his blood servant under the title of his fiancée, I made a call to my father. “In seven days,” I said, my voice clear and final in the dark, “make the name Elena Rossi disappear from this city. From vampire’s world. Forever.” In seven days, when Vincent finds his precious living blood bank gone, he went insane. And this decade-long game of predator and prey… will have a new set of rules.

The day his first love got divorced, my husband drank himself senseless. I stayed up past midnight taking care of him, only to discover that his phone’s photo album was filled with pictures of her. The next morning, after he sobered up, he said to me, “Let’s redo our wedding.” I knew this was his way of provoking his first love into coming back. I smiled and agreed, but not before I slipped a divorce settlement agreement into the wedding contract he signed.

After joining the nation's top research lab as a sophomore, everyone assumes I've taken shortcuts to get there. Mom throws away the handmade gift I had spent days crafting and says with disdain, "I don't have a daughter who's this shameless." Andreas Fitzgerald, my fiance, doesn't hold back, either. He warns coldly, "Remember your place as Mrs. Fitzgerald." Later, when my younger sister, Elaine Wilde, destroys my left hand, they all pressure me to drop the matter. I wake up in the hospital, pain crawling up my arm, and I know exactly what I have to do. Without hesitation, I dial my mentor, George Landon's, number. "I'm ready to join the classified national rocket program."

I am the youngest daughter of the White family. As rulers of the Moon Shadow pack, the White family showered me with love from the young age. That was until my brothers brought home an orphaned Omega named Calista. In less than a month, she had stolen all the affection that once belonged to me. All it took was a slight frown from me when she tried to move into my bedroom, and my eldest brother, the Alpha, slapped me on the face. My second brother, the Beta, locked me in the cellar. I never wanted to compete with Calista. All I wanted was to live the rest of my days quietly. But on the day of my eighteenth birthday, Calista falsely accused me of attacking her when I shifted. My brothers called me evil, and they cut all ties with me. They believed that I was spoiled rotten and that my jealousy of Calista had made me turn vicious. Little did they know that I had already secretly applied to be the guard of the Land of Winter and to live there in solitude for 20 years. After this farewell, I would never see them again. On the day that I left, they all broke down in regret.

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I can't do it. I can't stop remembering how defiled it is. "Our kid is gone. We owe each other nothing now—so let's end it here, right now." So that was it, huh? Hilarious. He had no idea who the "defiled" one was—him. Seven years ago, I inserted a memory chip into his brain to save him. And now, in three days' time, the chip will cease to function. He will remember everything… and he will wish he were long dead.

I'm married to Don Vincenzo Corleone of the Corleone family for five years. During those years, I'm the Donna whom everyone is envious of. But only I know that his love doesn't belong to me anymore. Vincenzo no longer takes me to core family gatherings. Our home is filled with photos of him and his childhood sweetheart, Lina Villo. At the banquet, Lina, who has won an award with the recipe she has stolen from me, nuzzles against Vincenzo's chest while receiving everyone's congratulatory wishes. Meanwhile, I get berated by the same man in public. Even when I get kidnapped, Vincenzo chooses to not save me just because he wants to take care of Lina. I've given Vincenzo five years of my love, only to end up with nothing good. So, I delete all of his contact information and board the ship meant for Castelloro. Vincenzo, I'm not going to pine for the genuine love and respect you owe me anymore. Let's not see each other again for the rest of our lives. We don't owe each other anything anymore.

When I finally lay my eyes on two marriage certificates, I finally realize that the certificate I share with my husband, Vittore Ferri, is the fake one. As for the other certificate, it's real. The other certificate shows Vittore and Chiara Romano, the daughter of the Ferri family's former Consigliere. So, it turns out that the husband, whom I've just married, has already married another woman a month ago.

Am Tag vor meiner Hochzeit ging ich früh in unsere Kathedrale, um mich mit dem Ort vertraut zu machen. Stattdessen fand ich meinen Verlobten und meine Stiefschwester Isabella auf dem Altar beim Sex. Auf unserem Altar. Ich erwischte sie. Er entschuldigte sich nicht einmal, sondern warf mich einfach in den Sturm hinaus. Ich brach im strömenden Regen zusammen. In diesem Moment fand er mich. Alistair, der Vampirprinz. Er bewegte sich wie ein Gott durch den Sturm. Er zog mich aus dem Schlamm und schenkte mir einen Palast. Er sagte der ganzen Welt, ich sei seine Schicksalsgefährtin. Die Eine, nach der er seit Jahrhunderten gesucht hatte. Seine Einzige. Fünf Jahre lang machte mich seine Hingabe zum Neid der übernatürlichen Welt. Ich glaubte, ich sei die Ausnahme in seinem ewigen Leben. Bis ich seinen Geheimraum fand. Meine Finger strichen über eine uralte Schriftrolle. Die Schrift war mit Blut geschrieben. In der ersten Zeile stand der Name: Isabella. Darunter, in Alistairs eigener Handschrift: „Absolute Priorität. Über allem.“ Dann befand sich ein Heilerprotokoll, das ich noch nie zuvor gesehen hatte. Das Heilprotokoll eines Vampirs. Das Datum war der Abend, als ich von meiner Schwangerschaft erfuhr. Die Nacht wurde ich von Werwölfen angegriffen. Man brachte mich blutüberströmt zurück ins Schloss. Die Heiler kamen nicht zu mir. Ich wachte allein auf. Unser Baby war weg. Unser Kind. Sein Blut, mein Blut – weg. Und meine Kleidung war von dem durchnässt, was davon übrig geblieben war. Ich wischte jede Spur davon fort. Als er nach Hause kam, brach ich in seinen Armen zusammen. Ich erzählte es ihm nie. Ich konnte es nicht ertragen, dass er den Schmerz fühlen sollte, den ich gefühlt hatte. Jetzt verstand ich es. In derselben Nacht war auch Isabella von Werwölfen angegriffen worden. Und Alistairs Befehl an seinen Rat lautete: „Schickt jeden Heiler. Isabella hat Priorität.“ Mein Herz stand still. Verzweiflung war ein Gift in meinen Adern. „Wenn ich nie die Eine gewesen bin ... dann behalt deine Ewigkeit. Ich will keinen Teil davon.“

Der Arzt sagte, ohne die neueste experimentelle Therapie hätte ich nur noch 72 Stunden zu leben. Aber der einzige Behandlungsplatz war von Lukas Berger an Verena Lindner vergeben worden. „Ihre Niereninsuffizienz ist schlimmer“, sagte er. Ich nickte und schluckte die weißen Tabletten, die meinen Tod beschleunigen würden. In der verbleibenden Zeit tat ich viele Dinge. Als ich unterschrieb, zitterte die Hand des Anwalts: „Anteile im Wert von 270 Millionen Euro, wollen Sie sie wirklich alle übertragen?“ Ich sagte: „Ja, an Verena Lindner.“ Meine Tochter Lilli lachte fröhlich in Verenas Armen: „Mama Verena hat mir ein neues Kleid gekauft!“ Ich sagte: „Es sieht wunderschön aus. Hör in Zukunft auf Mama Verena.“ Die Galerie, die ich mit eigenen Händen gegründet hatte, trug nun Verenas Namen. „Jana, du bist zu gut.“ Sie weinte, als sie es sagte. Ich antwortete: „Du wirst sie besser führen können als ich.“ Sogar auf das Treuhandvermögen meiner Eltern verzichtete ich mit meiner Unterschrift. Endlich zeigte Lukas zum ersten Mal seit vielen Jahren ein aufrichtiges Lächeln: „Jana, du hast dich verändert. Du bist nicht mehr so aggressiv – so bist du schön.“ Ja, im Sterben war ich endlich die „perfekte Jana Hoffmann“ in ihren Augen – fügsam, großzügig, ohne Widerspruch. Der Countdown von 72 Stunden hatte begonnen. Und ich fragte mich neugierig: Wenn mein Herzschlag auf null fällt, woran werden sie sich erinnern? An die „gute Ehefrau“, die endlich loslassen gelernt hatte? Oder an eine Frau, die mit ihrem Tod Rache vollendete?