Miquella X Tarnished Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Next month, we'll take the baby and escape from here, start a new life in Paris..." "None of this is true!" I tried with all my might to refute her. "Still pretending?" Silvana sneered. "Angelina gave these to me herself. She said you hid them well, but secrets have a way of coming out." She produced a man’s gold cufflink. It was engraved with an unfamiliar initial. "This was found in your vanity drawer," she said, dangling it in front of my eyes. "It belongs to Marco Jackson. Angelina said you two often met here when Darren was away."

Everything I do, every step I take, is all in a bid to make her smile; I need her, in a way I never thought I'd need someone ; My willpower must remain intact however; Never must I waver; Not even during those brief moments when she thinks I'm not looking, and I feel the hatred pouring off her in waves; Or when she cringes as I reach for her hand before deciding it's okay to trust me; It's not her fault though; I know that, and I love her for trying to make me feel loved; But I am scarred by her resentment; The curse I can never lift. "Having fun?"

And Eliot, already aching, would feel every single one. Damien’s steps slowed as he reached the stairwell. He leaned on the railing, gazing out at the moonlight spilling through the tall glass windows. It painted his face in silver, sharpening his smile into something dangerous. “Moonlight mystique,” he whispered mockingly. “How poetic. How tragic.” Because in the end, Eliot wouldn’t just be Theo’s obsession or Damien’s conquest. He would be something broken, reshaped in the shadows of both their hands.

The world froze. Leya's heart misstepped. Mia. Her Mia. The one who'd been hers before the contract, before the house, before she was knee-deep in something that had been engineered to destroy her. She swept away apron hands, blood pounding a riot through her chest. "Where is she?" "The guest parlor." Leya stood before the mirror—hair pulled back tightly, face powdered white, dress gray and damp at the neckline. She didn't primp. She didn't even touch it.

Torches flickered to life as she passed, revealing rows of scroll cabinets, ritual masks, broken weapons, and cracked moon-basins older than any living Moonbreather. But at the end of the chamber stood the mural. Elise froze. The wall stretched nearly ten meters wide, the paint faded but still beautiful—silver dust mixed into the pigment so that the moons shimmered faintly even in the half-dark. Her breath tangled in her chest. The mural showed two women standing beneath twin moons—one whole, one shattered like broken glass. One woman was unmistakably Thea. Strong. Radiant. Fierce. The other… Elise stepped closer. The second woman had silver eyes like hers. A pendant like hers. A scar over h

Kyren’s arm slammed around my waist before I could stumble, his grip iron-tight. “Elara, look,” he breathed. The central mural, the largest, the one of the Moon Maidens forming the first bond was no longer cracked. No longer broken. The pieces pulled together in a breathless cascade of light and stone floating, sliding, locking into place as if time reversed itself. A completed mosaic glowed before us. And the girl in the center… She wasn’t just similar to me. She was identical. Same hair. Same mark. Same eyes, silver-bright and burning.

My tongue needs to provoke her old hatred so her claws regain their killer senses. "Where exactly is Franklin’s body right now?" Mirelle chokes out through her barred teeth, her breath hitching. Tahlia's mouth is completely right, her mind snarls, her nails digging into the wood. Mcqueen's memory has always stood like a royal mountain above my common rank. Even though her flesh has been rotting in the pack graves for years, the noble high-tier matrons inside the Condex citadel still compare our styles in secret whispers. My throne cannot allow her country stray to bully my flesh and blood inside the territory. No damn way!

A sliver of my true scent—frost and ozone, sharp and angry—escaped into the air between us. Matteo took an involuntary step back, his eyes widening slightly. He’d felt it. The power in it. The threat. “I am not a sickness,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “I am an Enigma. And my presence here is sanctioned by the Global Alliance and your own government. If you have a problem with that, take it up with them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the break is over.” I walked past him, back into the meeting room. My heart was pounding, but my hands were steady. Matteo’s words echoed in my head. He’s falling apart.

Roman snuggled closer smelling her hair. Seeing her name on his chest made her jealous. Extremely jealous needless to say. Joanna would always come in between them. Sure he loved her and she did love him too, but did Joanna get that? Wouldn't she try to win his Ro back? "The tattoo. Wh- when did you get this?" Mikaella croaked and she could feel him tense underneath her. "Highschool. I loved her and I thought scribbling her name on my chest would prove just how much I loved her. Guess that's never enough huh? You have to meet the wrong people so that they'll direct you to the right people"

Her mother was not even sure she believed that. MJ shrugged. "Suits me. I am here to train anyway." She turned on her phone, wore her AirPods, choose a playlist from Spotify then blast her favorite music. She wanted this time just for herself. When they reached the Lycan land, she knew she had joined a very chaotic world. _____________