Novel & Cerita Metro Journal Online Novel Thali

Dissatisfaction crossed her face. "Oh. The same order as someone I know." Thalia's lips curled up on remembering someone. "He does not even pay. But since you're the alpha, I'm sure you can pay me." Her eyes darted at the alpha's bag. I also wondered what was inside that bag. "Anything else? Bread? Cake? Cookies? Books?" She must be talking about Brody. "Nothing. Only Arabic." "Arabic coffee on the way," she informed and winked at the alpha.

Gregory woke with a dry mouth and a sour taste in his throat. His head felt like it was filled with glass and regret. He pushed himself upright on the thin mattress and cursed under his breath. The safehouse had two rooms, one table, three mismatched chairs, and a window that looked out onto a narrow alley. It was ugly, and it smelled like old smoke and damp clothes. It was exactly the kind of place a man on the run should hate but accept.

Something inside me cracked open—raw and gaping, a wound that would never heal. Then—another body. Small, fragile, limp in my arms. Thalia. Her skin was cold, her lips tinged blue. Blood streaked her temple, her lashes wet with tears that had dried long ago. My fingers dug into her, as if holding on tightly enough would tether her back to me. A sob clawed its way up my throat—raw, broken. I screamed. The sound ripped through the ruins, swallowed by the flames. And then—darkness. ---

“Both. But that’s not it.” “Men have two emotions,” pipes up the third lady, eyebrows waggling like they’re conducting an orchestra. “Horny and hungry.” “And you can’t be hungry — you ate two desserts already,” Thalia deadpans. “Just … shut up.” Thalia chuckles but wisely keeps her lips sealed, studying me like she’s trying to decode an ancient riddle. After a long beat, she says, “You know, I haven’t seen much about your man-whore ways in the news lately. Actually, nothing since the accident.”

For a split second, her mind flashed to Maya’s laugh on the old railway bridge, back when the air smelled like ozone and pine, before Elena’s silver eyes had claimed her. Thalia closed her eyes, forcing the memory down into the darkest corner of her mind. She inhaled deeply, intentionally filling her lungs with the sterile, metallic scent of the city’s concrete. She was an outsider here, a predator hiding in plain sight among the sheep, but she was free. The tether to Blackwood House was finally stretched thin. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and stared at Maya’s name on the screen. With a steady hand and a cold, definitive breath, Thalia turned the device completely off,