Pedro Pascal Audiobook Novels & Stories

Pedro's POV. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window of my home office, phone pressed tightly to my ear, fury boiling in my veins. “Mr. Pascal. What the hell do you mean my shipment hasn't arrived yet?" There was a sudden knock on the door. "Come in!" I barked, not taking my eyes off the city skyline. "Don't worry, Mr. Pascal. I'll get to the bottom of this," I said sharply before ending the call.

He realized the man behind must have sensed what he was up to, and attempting to steady his shaken nerve, he said, “You can chuckle all you want now, you've got the upper hand. But, I advise you, hold on to it. For when I take it, you will find nothing more to chuckle about.” “Don't talk too tough, baby boy. I might get scared,” the dark man said with a false quaver. “Now, get that door open!” Pascal picked up the key, and as he turned the key in the lock, his mind made another frantic effort at placing the voice. He had a poor memory, his mom had always told him. Well, now he agreed. But of one thing he was sure, whoever owned this voice was as lethal as it. He contemplated turning round to

he said, taking a long swallow. She only pretended to sip. They talked for a few more minutes. Pedro’s voice grew slower, his sharp focus dulling around the edges. His posture slackened, confidence melting into lazy amusement. He laughed at nothing, rubbed his temple, and finally leaned back against the couch. “Guess the night finally caught up with me,” he muttered. “It happens,” Hailey replied softly. His eyes fluttered, then closed completely. Within seconds, he was out cold, breathing deep and steady.

Her hands tightened on the back of the book that she was holding, she kept her stance as her past mistake came rushing back before her eyes. Years ago, she had introduced Lancelot to Pedro when she was still attending school, after ending her relationship with Andrew. Pedro had come to New York to see his sister, Eleanor. At the very least, that's what he asserted. He stated that business was the main reason for his travel. Pedro was never one to rely on luck, and the timing of his visit seemed intentional, almost as if he had detected something wrong in her life from afar.

A deep voice spoke out causing Louisa to look up from her laptop. "Oh my God, Chris! What a pleasant surprise." She sashayed towards him and engulfed him in a warm hug. "I didn't know you were back. Please sit sit. Do you want to drink anything?...uh... coffee, tea, juice-" "Relax Louisa. I'm alright." He assured her amusedly. She was stuttering, meaning he was having an effect on her... just like she was in that suit. He could swear he had caught a glimpse of heaven just from their less than two minute hug, and he couldn't wait to take more than that.

Pedro arrived at the Garcia mansion, his men remained outside while he was ushered inside and guided to the living room "Mr Garcia will be down in a moment," the servant girl informed with a low bow and left the living room Pedro didn't even bother to sit down as scanned the room. The last time he stepped his feet on the Garcia property was when he was just a little boy..now he was a fully grown man Pedro stood by the bookshelf, his eyes fixed on the portrait before him, the Garcias appeared to be an honest family

With a wave of his hand, the trees crumbled around him, and a fierce storm began swirling in their midst. As he advanced on King Arthur, Pascal declared, "My dad is not a weak man." In a sudden surge of emotion, he grabbed the king by the throat and snapped his neck, bringing an end to the raging storm. a voice spoke to Pascal, acknowledging his intelligence. "Well done, Georgi," the voice said.

Behind the glass, Curtis exchanged a glance with Tessa. Neither of them spoke. Both understood the significance of what was happening. The room fell silent as the investigator opened a fresh file and began recording the statement. Pascal lowered his gaze to the table. For several moments, he seemed to be gathering the courage necessary to continue. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded tired. "He came to me years ago when I had already lost everything," Pascal said. "I was angry. I hated Curtis. I hated what happened to the company. I hated the fact that everyone had moved on while I was left behind."

Antonio looked like he had seen a ghost. Pedro was still alive? "You fucking undead bastard." He muttered. "In the flesh and blood." Pedro replied, grinning like a maniac. But even his voice was strained with pain. Blood bubbled through the wound on his arm as he pressed on it. "Signòre?" Marcello called as he pressed his gun on Pedro's head, waiting for Antonio to give the order. Pedro leaned against the wall and laughed, a soulless sound which had no humour in it.

“I want to tell you a story, Tessa. A story of how I became the man I am today.” Tessa looked up at him, her eyes filled with dread, yet she forced herself to listen. Pedro’s gaze turned distant as he began. “When I was a boy, my father—Don El Diablo Lorenzo—took me to a wrestling ring much like this one. It was dark, loud, and frightening. I remember the first time I saw men clash in battle. I saw blood spatter and heard the sound of bones breaking. I was terrified, but I also learnt something crucial that day. I learnt that life is cruel and unforgiving, and only those who can endure pain can survive. I learnt that strength is forged in fire and that fear must be faced head-on.”