Novel & Cerita Mr Whiskers The Game

‘Aleksis Agustus, Chief Executive of Octagon Solutions’ How shameless of her husband to say he was fired from a company he owns? A flicker of excitement rushed into her eyes. All these years, Sierra has tried to dismiss the world she grew up in. The rush and hunger for danger were pulsing through her heartbeat. The same way it would always do whenever she was given a task. There was no need to ask who would play this game better. She knew damn well who would be a better player. All she had to do now was plan her way to make Alek feel like winning, and just when he got a hold of the trophy, she’d sneak in and snatch victory away from him. Maybe kill him. Well, that would be optional.

* I wiped the blood off my face, my eyes turning as cold as ice. I finally understood the essence of this game. Play the White Moonlight? Die. Play the Maid? Die. Play the Family? Die. As long as you are "human," as long as you approach him with a goal, you are a dead end. Because in his eyes, "human" is synonymous with betrayal. I want to win. So I can't be human. "System," I gripped the hourglass tightly. "I don't want a physical body." [Player Halen, your request violates the rules.]

Mj locked eyes with Ace, and he quirked a half smile as the deadly gleam in her eyes matched his own. “We are going to play a little game, rabbit,” Mj began. Moxie and Jay high-fived one another at her use of their pet name for prey while Ed only folded his head into his hands and mumbled to himself. “Now that we can play in private, I'm gonna tell you the rules... I am going to ask you questions and if I don't like your answer, or you take too long to answer, I am going to bite off one of your fingers and swallow it...do you understand?”

“Uh, just for clarification — are we the ones doing the ambushing, or are we the ambushees?” Nyra chuckled. “Both.” Before anyone could react, she held up a small hourglass filled with black sand. “This starts the game.” She flipped the hourglass, the dark grains beginning to trickle down. “You have thirty seconds. Run.” The forest exploded into motion. Wolves shifted, witches muttered spells under their breath, and vampires vanished into blurs of speed. The teams scattered, darting into the trees like shadows. “Move!” Lloyd snapped, grabbing my arm and tugging me into the underbrush.

Grayson says. "Are you not a lycan prince anymore?" Malisha asks cocking her eyebrow in question. "And so?" he asks her narrowing his eyes. "Are you a chicken?" she asks him witha grin. "Do I look like one to you?" He asks back puffing his chest. "You do," she replies. "I didn't know you kiss chickens," he retorts. "Well, there is always a first time for everything," she retorts back. They glare at each other until they hear a scream. They turn to look in the direction of the scream, and Malisha says, "We have to hide now." Sitting opposite each other in the hiding place they found, Grayson asks, "How the hell does this horrific game end?"

Jack snarled, his body coiled, ready to spring. “The catch,” The Weaver purred, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “is me. I will not lay a hand on you. But I am a… connoisseur of irony. I find that the world itself is a far more interesting weapon than any gun or claw.” She held up a single, elegant hand. “The game begins… now.” She didn’t move. But the world began to unravel. A fire alarm, shrill and piercing, suddenly blared through the facility. But the sprinkler heads in the ceiling didn’t spray water. They sprayed a fine, aerosolized mist that smelled faintly of rotten eggs and old silver.

“I'm going to need another one of these soon.” “Classy.” Pertrece drawled out sarcastically, picking up the empty tray. As Tawny took another swig, eyes peering over the mug, focusing on Pertrece’s leaving figure, I turned my attention back towards the dancing vixens. A new pair of women has taken place, starting their performance with charming grins and flirty finger waves. The men roared at the sight. Their hips slowly began to sway as a new wave of coins was tossed towards their feet. The vixens gleefully gazed at the growing piles of gold, “This is going to be an easy night.” One grinned.

He just gave a quiet laugh under his breath—the kind that pissed me off even more—and walked out with his friends. The moment they were gone, I exhaled hard. My fists still clenched. My knuckles throbbed like hell. My whole body buzzed with adrenaline and anger—and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint, all tangled together. Mr. Connor’s voice cut in. “You boys better clean up that mess by the pinball machine before you leave. And Gibson—” his eyes narrowed, “—if I see you or Burkhart starting shit here again, you’re banned. Got it?”

The bartender comes with my drink and a glass of water and he places it in front of us. “Here you go, sir.” He says and I don’t respond. Robyn turns to the bartender and says. “Thank you.” The bartender nods and leaves. “You know, Mr. Gray…” she smirks, leaning forward as she whispers into my ear, “You’re in luck. I like to play games too and I like them dirty, rough, and… hard,” she purrs, her hot breath tickling the side of my neck as she bites my earlobe.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of a massive Victorian manor. "Welcome to Hollow Creek Manor." A cold, mechanical voice boomed from the sky. "Welcome, players, to the S-class survival game: Hollow Creek Manor. The rules are as follows: Survive for 10 days. Keep your Anxiety Level below 100. If it reaches 100, your soul will be obliterated. At the end of the game, the lower your Anxiety Level, the greater your reward." I froze. A game? I looked around and saw a few other people standing nearby.