Novel & Cerita Mothman Trevor Henderson

“Ian Parker. If you want the truth about the monster you’re with, you need to see it for yourself.” “Who is this?” Ian demanded, his knuckles white around the phone. “A friend of the truth. Look at your phone.” A text chimed. A photo loaded…a remote, rustic cabin, buried deep in a sea of dark pine trees. It looked lonely and forgotten. The proof of Zhedya Hunter’s work is here. He keeps his trophies there. The line went dead. Ian stared at the image. Trap. It’s a trap, his mind screamed, logic blaring like an alarm.

"Well, well. If it isn't the infamous Trent Salvatore." Trent turned at the familiar voice, his face breaking into a genuine grin despite the circumstances. A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late twenties stood before him, but despite the years that had passed and the stress lines around his eyes, Trent recognised him immediately. "Henry Morrison," Trent said, pulling his old friend into a bear hug. "You look like hell, by the way." "Thanks, you always were a charmer," Henry laughed, though the sound was strained. "Ten years since Lunar Ridge Academy, and you still have that winning personality."

Instead of biting the hunter, he bites his arm until fresh blood flows in it. When he was calm, he look at the woman again. He presses his hand between her neck and shoulder then, he removes the small stain of her blood from his bite. Later on, he heard a sound of a car. Therefore, he decided to look at who was coming. He stood up and face her one last time before leaving the sleeping werewolf hunter. Little did he knows, the woman is not fully unconscious, she feel the bite of the man and she saw his face. ~~~

Chapter 69 “Hello… Hannah Montana.” Hannah froze, her eyes widening in pure shock. “How did you —” Trevor cut her off smoothly “We have a lot to talk about.” He pulled out his phone, his tone leaving no room for argument still, curiosity flickered across Hannah’s face “Who really are you?” she asked cautiously “Why not find out?” he replied. “I’ve already sent you the address. Meet me there'' He leaned in slightly — not too close and added calmly “If you want to know more about what happened to your father''

“I do not know who heads the Time Watchers. But I’ve had a personal relationship with one of its stakeholders. In fact, we were childhood friends, besties in high school…” Tension has me sidling to the edge of my seat and holding the chair in a white-knuckled grip. “Who is this person?” Manuel plants both palms on the table and leans towards me, his eyes gleaming with pure excitement. I’m convinced that the man is a psychopath. “His name is Henry Montessori. Does it ring a bell?” All of a sudden, the world is spinning, and I’m caught in the middle, trying and failing horribly to find my footing.

I smiled to myself, a quick, flashing grin, easily convinced. Being a hunter may not be in my blood, but it was who I was. I’d been brought up by two hunters, two hunters that had travelled the word in the pursuit of various supernatural creatures, ranging from wendigos to ghosts to shifters. I was fine. I would be fine. “That was some good work today, Cals,” my Paps chirped as we reached the cars. “A very quick response. That might have been what saved her.” “Thanks, Paps,” I smiled, a little wearily. The thought of a ten hour shift at the diner was less than appealing, but at least it was relatively stress free. I doubted any more lifeless bodies would turn up there, at the very least.

"Each one harbors a seething vendetta against Eric Damian, their thirst for revenge unyielding." "Behold," Peterson continued, his voice resonating with solemnity. "Sisco, a vampire of South American descent, lost his father and watched as his ancestral home was reduced to ashes, with his mother trapped within. All because Sisco dared to challenge Damian's authority." He then turned to a tall British vampire, a figure cloaked in grief and despair. "And my dear friend Henderson, once surrounded by companions and his beloved girlfriend, Eric Damian ruthlessly snuffed out their lives. Henderson alone was spared, not out of mercy, but to suffer the eternal torment of loss and helplessness," Pete

Woody did not even stop to think as he said, "They're just a bunch of minions. What's the point of killing them? Kick them out of Draconia and never let them return." Mitchell looked delighted. "That's right! Let them bother the rich people abroad!" Mason's expression turned even darker as he brimmed with annoyance. He remarked, "What nonsense are you saying? Mr. Henderson has a kind heart, and he would never think such despicable thoughts." Mitchell turned red and mumbled to himself. He did not dare to say anything else. Mason took out a black card and said reverentially, "Mr. Henderson, thank you for saving me. I know that you don't think anything of money, and I shouldn't be insulting you

With that money, I posted an unprecedented final Quest on the app with the highest bounty yet. The quest was simple. [Livestream everything that happens inside the abandoned cement factory owned by York Group. Exclusive livestream. Bounty: Fifty thousand dollars.] I then walked into the trap alone, holding only an empty flash drive. Inside the cement factory, Frank was waiting for me with two fierce bodyguards. He snatched the flash drive from my hand and plugged it into the laptop. When he found it was empty, a ferocious look appeared on his face. "You're playing with me?"

They remembered the gruesome image that had happened only half a month ago, when William Xavier’s arm was yanked off, and Warren Xavier was decapitated, his headless body falling into a pool of his own blood. “You?” Trent’s expression darkened. He knew the ghost mask this man wore. He had seen it on their surveillance footage when this man murdered his father. “The survivor of the Cadens?” Trent stared at James, who was still approaching him. He may have been a battle-hardened deputy commander, but the bloodlust he felt from this man was like nothing he had ever experienced. James’s face was obscured by the mask, his blood-red eyes the only thing that was exposed. Henry, who had been followi