Man In White Book Novels & Stories

I replied firmly into Hank's mind with a nod which let him know to get the pack members I had outside moving on releasing these girls, and quickly. "So gentleman, how can I help you today?" Mr White asked nervously as he sauntered over to his desk, exuding a repugnant confidence. He gestured for us to sit, but I remained standing, my disgust barely contained. The room's stench was almost unbearable—a mix of stale cigar smoke, sweat, and a sickly sweet cologne that did little to mask the underlying odour of human suffering. "Make yourselves comfortable," he said with a smirk when no one answered while he leaned back in his plush leather chair. His oily demeanour was that of a man who believed

Its sharp canines appear to slam back up into his gums, causing blood to gush from the animal’s mouth, as limbs dance about in chaotic, jerky movements. When it’s over, a man crouches where the wolf stood mere moments ago, cloaked in heavy, white furs. His hair is as white as the wolf’s, those familiar golden eyes stare at me through clouds of pain. It clicks, he must be one of them. My nose crinkles, I can only assume the Wolf-Men have been organized to find me, and this one succeeded. Despite being saved, dread wells up within me- I don’t want to go back. My gaze falls on Ghost, wondering if he can outrun a wolf, but returns when the Wolf-Man clears his throat.

He felt more relaxed as he admired the suit he was wearing for an unappealing meeting where he was going to be struck with sympathy and anger because of a life that had been lost, because of Alberto who Man had killed. "Please, be comfortable while I ask my assistant to get you something to drink," Man said as he motioned to the guests inside his office to leave immediately because of Blackwheel's presence. "Can we come back later to finalize the deal and make possible corrections to the offer we have presented?" One of the guests ask Man. "Sure," Man said, rubbing his long black tie softly. "All immediate corrections for the good of both parties will be appreciated." As soon as the guests l

I have to go on a business trip for a week, so I get a cat-sitter to come over and feed my cat Muffin while I'm away. But on the second day, when I check the live footage from the living room surveillance camera, I see my fiancee, Kate Swanson's childhood friend Samuel Lambert enter the password for the front door and walk into the house. Then, he throws a grape into Muffin's bowl. Samuel Lambert raises an eyebrow in the direction of the surveillance camera. "Hey, Jonathan. Muffin is a smart one, isn't it? It's not touching the grape at all." Then, as I watch in horror, he unplugs the surveillance camera. I feel my heart sink, and I immediately ask the cat-sitter to head back over and ch

[ i wouldn't touch it if you value your life] Man-bun said in Italian and the big arm guy stopped midway from my body. “Which one of you is Whitney?” His English is understandable but his accent is thick. “Why do you need to know that?” Aurora asked Man-bun.. He looked at Aurora. “Take their luggage to their rooms,” The thick-accent man orders and they pick up our suitcases. “What was that all about?” Aurora asked Sierra. “I have no idea, but I plan on finding out,” Sierra tells us and we follow her into the massive house.

the voice was right behind us, startling Nessa and me, “It’s time we end this cat-and-mouse game.” The voice belonged to a rather huge man with a broad chest and rippling muscles. He seemed like a regular human, but he was painted white from the hair on his head to the toe on his feed. “Recognize him?” Nessa asked. “No,” I replied, then yelled at the man, “who are you? And what do you want?” “I am the White Wolf,” he smiled, even his teeth were painted white, “and it’s time to die little girl.” “Shit!” Nessa cursed. She definitely picked that from me, “can you transform it?”

Man of shade manor 2 My breath comes out in pants as my mind races with what to say. I close my eyes taking in a couple of deep breaths. "I...I-I'm alright," I whimper. I watch as he wipes the blood off his hand into his clothes. He sighs, running a hand through his long hair. He begins to undo my restraints. His soft fingers lightly caress my wrists as he removes the ropes. Once I'm released I bring my hands to my chest running my fingers over the raw flesh. The man offers me a hand pulling me to my feet. My legs tremble beneath me but the man continues to hold me upright.

’ I asked hopefully and he shook his head and then groaned; I was startled. ‘Are you okay, Uncle?’ he raised his hand, motioned me to sit. ‘I am fine, it’s just that I forgot the book I was thinking of bringing.’ I looked at him confused. ‘Book?’ he nodded. ‘It is about white wolves. I don’t know how council found that book, but I had seen it once in the library, however, never opened it. I will send it to you after going back, just remind me okay.’ Although we don’t know what is written inside the book I still hope we can find any help from it and a little would be enough for us right now.’ Lilith excused herself, she had been busy with some work leaving me and uncle alone, I was grateful f

he said, “Daniel Whitman definitely didn’t spend the last thirty years broke.” The car came to a stop in front of a large stone mansion. A man in a black suit opened my door. “This way, please,” he said. Grayson and I followed him inside. The house was too quiet. Almost disturbingly so. We were led into a long library filled with dark wooden shelves and tall windows that let in just enough light to feel intentional. A man stood near the fireplace. Tall. Silver hair. Perfectly tailored suit. He turned slowly as we entered.

Books lay open across the desk, and papers covered almost every available surface. I reached for another old book that had been tucked away at the very back of one of the shelves. Unlike the others, it was noticeably thinner, its leather cover faded with age. As I brushed away the dust that had settled over it, three words slowly came into view. The White Wolves. My heartbeat quickened as I stared at the title for a brief moment before opening the book without wasting another second. “Finally.” The first few pages were filled with handwritten accounts describing the White Wolves as though they had truly existed.