Novel & Cerita Movie The Cross And The Switchblade

Alive. Her relief hit Alexander like a physical blow, sharp enough to steal his breath. She was seated, shoulders tense, breathing visibly hard as if she’d been forced to hold it in. Sweat slicked her hair back from her face, strands clinging to her temple. Her wrists weren’t visible, but the angle suggested restraint. No blindfold this time. Her eyes were open. Focused. Alexander stepped closer without realizing it. A man’s voice came from off-screen, distorted but confident. “Mr. Cross.”

BLADE 2. He forced his tongue into my mouth and pinned my two hands roughly on the bed. He doesn't allow me move. I wiggled my body but he ended up hitting my boobs with his palm. The pain sent the wrong sensation down my pussy. It throbbed shamelessly. He stopped kissing me and before I knew it, I landed a slap on his cheek which I regret doing. His demeanor changed instantly. I presume it didn't sit well with him.

-2- I pulled the switchblade out of my waistband without him noticing. -1- I opened it. -NOW- I jumped forward, pushing Xavier off me catching him off guard and before he could recover, I stabbed him with the switchblade and ran from the room as fast as I could. I could hear him growl, but the noise from outside soon drowned it out as all hell broke loose. As I flung open the front door and ran outside, I was grabbed and a knife placed against my throat.

Swish! Old Cross was slashed by the silver sword energy. With widened eyes, his body split into two. He was as dead as he could be!

I encouraged, a flicker of hope present that there was something I felt even if it was faint and almost unnoticed. I watched him raise her too, exposing her belly. I had no idea what he was doing to her but it seemed like he was watching the inside of her stomach through an incision made by the side of her stomach. My anger boiled. My pup couldn't even be allowed privacy. Cross's went on and on until it went flat and became hums and grunts. Thronesman had moved from shooting bullets to shooting knives, making sure that the knives cut different parts of Cross. He was likely to bleed out.

“I won’t—I won’t ask again—” “You won’t,” Marcus agreed. The word landed like a door slamming shut. Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Suffocating. The morning traffic continued around them, but it felt distant, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them on that crosswalk. Marcus leaned in just enough that his voice dropped even lower—private, dangerous, the kind of calm that promised worse things if ignored. “I could make you disappear,” he said evenly. “And no one would ask questions.”

Beta Maximus clearly hated hearing that, but what I didn’t knew was what nobody has explained to him, and that was the power of the switched wolves, the gold and silver wolves of the strongest packs of the USA, had the biggest secret along side my pack, and Beta Maximus had zero idea over what was really going on. Knowing this shit was about to hit the fan I looked at my body to then whistle at him, getting his attention I link Calvin. ‘Let’s shoe and tell the powers of our mates.’ I tell him to which he walked closer to me. I have no idea how we were going to exchange our bodies but as he walked to me, Alpha Milo took something in his hand from the blue roses in the center of the coffee tab

Unable to endure the daily beatings, she had grabbed a knife and stabbed Alaric to death. The incident immediately hit the trending charts. When the police took Seraphina away, her eyes were hollow and lifeless. I didn’t even need to file a lawsuit anymore. As for Harold and Margaret, though physically unharmed, they had witnessed Seraphina’s crime. One succumbed to a heart attack from sheer fright; the other went insane. In the end, none of them escaped unscathed. They got exactly what they deserved. Once I settled all matters in the country, I boarded a plane with my parents and Isolde, leaving for our new homes.

But I let the feral part of me loose in my muscles, in my speed, in the way my grin turns sharp. One of the crossbowmen tries to reload. I kick his weapon out of his hands and drive my blade into his shoulder, pinning him to the tree. He screams. “Who’s paying you?” I ask conversationally. He spits blood at my boots. I lean in. “Wrong answer.” I twist the blade, smiling as he howls. Another man rushes me from behind. I don’t turn. I just reach back and catch his wrist mid-swing, feeling the silver knife scrape my palm.

By the time Luca arrived, the dissolution agreement was folded beneath my blanket. He came in with one of his men behind him. The man placed a cream-colored box on the table and left without a word. Luca said, “I had them send a few things over from the estate. You’ll be more comfortable here.” Inside were a wool recovery blanket, a silver-handled brush, and a small velvet case. For a moment, he almost looked like the man I remembered. Calm, careful, faintly guilty. Then I saw the order slip tucked beneath the blanket.