Novel & Cerita Penelope Featherington Book Appearance

I turned toward the window seats, preparing to make my way to my usual spot, when a voice stopped me. “You people must like running your mouths. If you used more of your brain cells than your mouths, the world might actually improve.” Everyone froze. That voice. I turned my head toward the doorway. Penelope leaned against the wall, her black bob tucked behind one ear. A small tattoo peeked out from her neck, and another curled around her wrist. She wore a cropped white top, tiny black shorts, and a bomber jacket. Her arms were crossed, and the look in her eyes could’ve set someone on fire.

Fucking hell. I tossed the pen aside and rubbed a hand down my face. And that’s when the knock came. One. Two. Soft. Hesitant. I didn’t move. The door creaked open slowly. Her scent hit me like a punch to the chest. “Hi… um… what would you like me to do?” Her voice. Low. Sweet. Obedient, but with an edge. And there she was. Penelope. Hair in a messy bun. A simple top and jeans. Jeans that hugged her hips so tightly, I had to look away to stay sane. My fingers twitched. I wanted to tear them off her. Fuck, I’d kill for that ass.

How reckless could she be to provoke Elon Lancaster himself? Penelope was annoyed. Which young lady would dye their hair green and dress like a thug? If she had known Fiona's identity, she wouldn't have said that!

As I navigated the crowded hallways, bracing myself against the current of students, a familiar voice cut through the din. "Look who I ran into? The cheerleader queen Brooklyn and her little girlfriend." Penelope Swinton stood there, draped in an aura of disdain, her entourage flanking her like a pair of ominous shadows. "That explains the stench of cheap perfume from miles away," she sneered, her gaze piercing through me as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience in her day.

She looked toward the entrance, and for a moment our eyes met through the glass. The impact was immediate. My wolf went crazy, pacing and whining in my mind. Penelope’s awakened bloodline had intensified everything about her. Her scent carried on the wind and made my hands shake. “Ice Cream Uncle?” Debbie’s voice brought me back to the present. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” I managed. “Just admiring your mother’s work.” Nathan’s expression was dangerous. “Admiring. Right.” The facility door opened again. Penelope emerged. She wore practical training clothes that emphasized her athletic build. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, and her posture was straight.

Chapter 3 Penelope walked into the village with her head covered ,she was wearing a long regalia and no one could tell her identity . She had to hide what she really was because she knew how much the people hated the witches ,it doesn’t matter if she was an hybrid , she still had that looks of a witch and that didn’t make it different they just wanted her dead at all cost ,the same way that they had killed her Parents and siblings years ago ,that was something that she could never forget no matter how hard it was for her ,she was never going to forget about the cruel way that she had been treated her whole life .

Every head turned. And there she was. Penelope. She stood in the doorway like she’d been carved out of fire and defiance. Like she had no intention of asking permission to be here. She wore a short blood-red dress, silk clinging to her body like it belonged to her skin. The neckline dipped low, too low. The sleeves were sheer, teasing, barely there. A thin gold chain wrapped around her hips, moving with each step like it had a rhythm of its own. And those black boots, high and sharp, echoed with power as she walked across the stone floor.

Cleo spotted the back window of the flat. "Hey, you're Cleo, right?" Cleo threw the garbage first before a fruity sweet smell hit her nostrils. She came face to face with Penelope who was on green beach curls and a flamingo-printed summer dress, she looks like someone taken from a Halloween magazine. "Remember me? It's Penelope," she smiled sheepishly like she didn't give a spiteful first impression to Cleo. "I see, you're doing your job very well," she said eyeing the garbage bag she threw.

Alert. That’s when I saw her. Penelope stood in the middle of a clearing, moonlight catching the silk of her dark robes. Her head was tilted up, eyes closed, like she was drinking in the night sky. She didn’t flinch when I stepped out from the brush. “You’re finally here,” she said without turning. “I thought you'd be here earlier. Anyway, You reek of obsession.” “I call it determination.” She turned then, slowly, and those eyes landed on me like twin daggers. Calm. Measuring. Cold.

Gush! Warm blood sprayed across Gideon's face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hand shaking violently around the knife. His lips were pressed tight. He didn't say a word. From above, Hayley and the others watched and couldn't help but reassess him. Then, a voice drifted up from below. "Hey. Who are you people?" The one speaking was Penelope, the girl who had just shoved Nora out to feed the zombie. She had a sweet-looking face and stood barely five feet four, dressed in a spotless designer dress from before the apocalypse. Over it, she wore a leather jacket and knee-high boots. The materials covering her looked expensive.