Novel & Cerita Make War Not Love

As Seattle blurred past the windows, I realized that James Morrison had given me the most incredible gift—not just freedom from an unwanted marriage, but proof that love comes in many forms. Some love holds on desperately. Some love sacrifices everything. And some love fights like hell when the people it protects are in danger. Today we'd discover which kind of love was strongest. And whether Emma Romano's family was brave enough to deserve the little girl who'd just proved she was braver than all of them. The wedding that wasn't had become a war that was. And this time, we were fighting for keeps.

Don't start acting as if you care now. I didn't hate him. As I had stated during the press conference, Damian's betrayal meant very little after witnessing the overwhelming devastation of war and death. Holding a grudge required far too much energy, and I refused to waste any on him. I simply no longer cared about him, not one bit. When I walked past him, our shoulders brushed. The contact was light and brief, yet it hit Damian with the force of an unbearable weight. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the pavement.

I don't believe in marriage and love, or whatever nonsense this world invented. Because if love was real, married couples wouldn't separate, like what Adam and I are planning to do eventually. If love was true, there wouldn't be parentless children in orphanages. If love was real, men wouldn't seek other women even if they were married, like Crisanto - oh yeah, he's my biological father - ever since high school I stopped calling him Dad, why bother? He never loved me or my Mom. I don't know if he loved my mom or if he just stayed for the money.

He turned back to me and his eyes showed he dropped our little banter we had like two second’s ago. “That’s not going to work today darling. We will discuss it tonight and you will come to a conclusion before you leave this room.” I pout as I give my mum the same puppy eye look, she was always resistant to it, but it’s worth a try? To answer my question, no she’s still resistant to it. She turned to me with a look that said just try it out. Try what out? “I always believed marriage is a sacred thing, you get married to someone you love, just like you do mum and dad.” I take another breath and carry on “I don’t want to marry someone who I don’t love and then live miserably for the rest of my

God, she bristled. “Then what does it become?” she said. I kept my gaze level, let the word out like a bullet from a precision trigger: “A war.” There was no drama in it. No raised voice, no flourish. Just the realignment of priorities. If her father believed I had orchestrated the attack.

he says. “I know,” I say. He opens his mouth. Closes it. The war I have been watching in his eyes for weeks is right there, very close to the surface, and for one long moment I think: this is it. This is when he says the thing. This is when the careful controlled Adrian Knight who trusts contracts more than feelings finally decides that some things are worth more than professional language. Then he picks up his pen. And something in my chest does something complicated. He signs his copy. Slides it across the desk.

A mafia war was one like no other, especially since we followed no rules. Well, in this one, things were different. We were doing this out of love. I was in this situation because of family. To protect my family and my love. This was going to be one of the purest and nastiest wars I was going to be entering. Pure, because its cause was one to keep my loved ones safe. I would do anything to ensure that none of them was harmed. That we all got out of this with as minimum loss as possible. I didn’t want to risk anyone’s life in a nasty man’s game.

Always trying to contain the damage, even when the explosion had already gone off. “We’ve had this conversation,” I said, jaw tight. He leaned back, hands folded in front of him. “War isn’t a romantic notion. It’s not noble. It’s not clean. It’s brutal. People die. Our people. Would your love for her survive that kind of bloodshed? Would it still feel worth it… if half our family was gone?” I didn’t answer. What could I say? He pressed on. “If your mother and I were among the dead?”

except for one, I notice. I hitch in a breath as my gaze meets the eyes of the brooding War God. His eyes are colder than an Arctic wind, and though he holds the Goddess of Love in his arms, he barely seems to notice her. His eyes flit from me to Apollo, his expression unreadable, other than the obvious tightening of his jaw. I force myself to pull my gaze away, focusing with difficulty on Apollo, who's smile has turned amused. "Interesting dynamic there, you two." He says in a voice that holds the smallest, almost undetectable amount of bitterness. "In all the myths, it is Aphrodite and Ares who are in love, unable to stay away from each other...and yet...that has never been the case." "Wha

Vad shifted, “is that your mother loved someone who didn’t love her back. It hurt you. I get that. But starting a war because you feel like the world owes you something? That’s just pathetic.” Eamon’s jaw clenched, his calm exterior cracking. “Seems my words are getting in but not sticking.” Before I could figure out what I felt deep in my chest, Vad’s voice dropped, all trace of humor gone. “Oh, it’s getting in,” he said softly. “I get you now, Eamon. I wish we could end this with a handshake. But unfortunately…”