Playing For Keeps Book Novels & Stories

Thankfully Scott has already left for his meeting with Cornelius. I still can't believe that clown is our new king, we are officially doomed, more than usual. I pull my jacket on as a chilly gust of winds blows against my thin shirt. I unlock the apartment door, closing it behind me and doing up all the chains that wouldn't be necessary if I wasn't feeling so weak.

old man:- what happens girl are you still want to keep playing you already lose that much. young girl:- no I won't let my family name, humiliate me like this, I will win the next game let keep playing, I won't lose to you, just one match. old man:- what will you going to do, if you lose that game too, there are still many ways for a girl to repay, will you use that way to pay me. young girl:- I will go to win with you even I have to sell my body if that won't enough then I will sell my soul but there is no way I would let you destroy my name.

When I found Silas Pembroke, he was carefully untangling a strand of another woman’s hair from his tie clip. The two of them were wrapped around each other, far too close to pretend otherwise. He let out a mocking laugh. “Jenna, what exactly are you going to accuse Sienna and me of this time?” Sienna Vale smiled sweetly. “Mrs. Pembroke, you stayed away longer than usual this time.” I steadied myself and said, “I’m not Jenna. I’m her twin sister, Summer Sinclair.” Silas burst out laughing. “What is this, your latest stunt?” Then his expression hardened. “Keep pushing me, and I can’t promise you’ll stay Mrs. Pembroke forever.” I only looked at him and said quietly, “Silas, my sister left three

Chapter two starts now. I deleted it without reading the rest. The dangerous play had returned, but this time, the rules were different. I wasn't playing for a trophy. I was playing for keeps. Would the board even listen to us? Or had Marcus already poisoned the well too deep? I didn't know. But for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of losing. I was only afraid of letting go of the hand in mine.

“Isabella—“ “Let’s play a game of suddenly!” Archie Campbell suggests in his loud voice, and a chorus of agreements and cheers erupt. I’m so glad for the interruption, that I find myself clapping in agreement. Archie stands up and explains the rules of the game as the bus begins to move, leaving Paintball Park behind. A person starts a story, then says the word ‘suddenly’ and point to someone who’d continue the tale, and so it goes. Archie goes first. “A white cow is eating grass atop a hill when suddenly—“ he points to Annabelle Rooney, grinning.

Setting the picture to the side, Violet looked at the other things that were inside the drawer. The first thing that caught her eye was a small black book. The page Violet opened was a list. There was a name of a city, a first and last name, then a number, and finally an address. This had to be what Jeremy was looking for. She set the book to the side and looked at the rest of the contents. Some of them were letters discussing this Richard Morgan she’d heard so much about. Whoever he was, he was not only a thorn in the alpha’s side but a lot many other people.

“Looking pathetic is better than being pathetic. You are the pathetic one.” His eyes narrowed. “Still stubborn. Why am I surprised?” I smirked, even as my body ached. “You shouldn't be because I got it from you.” Karl’s jaw clenched, but his voice stayed calm, dangerous in its restraint. “Let's play a father and son game.” “You lost the chance a long time ago,” I retorted. “The game will be called ‘why game’,” he continued. “Why would I do that with you?” I asked.

One sentence, written in Claire’s familiar hand: *The forgetting was a kindness. No date. No further instruction. Only those five words. Nora stared at them until the letters began to blur. Eli’s hand settled on the back of her neck, warm and steadying. She leaned into the touch without thinking. “She keeps doing this,” Nora whispered. “Giving just enough to keep us moving, never enough to let us rest.” “I know.” “The forgetting was a kindness.” She looked up at him. “Whose kindness? And for whose benefit?” Eli’s thumb stroked once along the side of her neck. “We won’t know until we find the lock this key opens.”

“I am the King.” The Ferryman slowly shook his head. “No.” “You merely inherited a throne.” “A King…” “…is chosen.” ⸻ Before anyone could respond… He stood and walked toward one of the towering bookshelves. His fingers brushed across dozens of old journals until he finally removed a thick leather volume. Across its faded cover… Only one word had been embossed in gold. KEEPERS He placed it gently upon the table. “Every Keeper since the twelfth century.” Alessio carefully opened the book.

Six Years Later Matteo Antonov did not watch basketball. He watched men, he watched exits and he watched hands. The VIP box hovered above the arena like a glass throne, insulated from the roar below. Dimitri lounged beside him with a beer, one boot propped on the railing. “You haven’t blinked,” Dimitri said. “It’s a game, not a hostage situation.” Matteo’s gaze never left the court. “Men reveal themselves under pressure.” “Sure,” Dimitri replied. “But these ones reveal themselves by missing free throws.”