Prisoner Invincible Mga Nobela at Kwento

That's when I realized what he did for me. He saved my ass from four druggies. I can't forget how he knocked them all in just five minutes. Each of them have their own broken bones to show to the doctor. I remember one of the nurses telling me that they were all sent to the hospital because of their critical injuries. One was dying. The leader guy. He got the most damage. "I know you don't like me and you don't have to like me. But I need you to trust me. It's the only way you'll come out of this prison in one piece."

I moved closer to him, hoping to look menacing even though his cologne was tickling my nose and maybe my pussy but hell if I back down. "You want your money back but you won't release me so I can go hustle. How am I supposed to pay back if I'm in your cage all day? How?" I asked, pushing my finger into his chest but he didn't even budge an inch. The fucker. "I can't let you go" he said adamantly with no traces of expression on his face. "Why? You're catching feelings already? Or is the great Ivin obsessed with his prisoner?" He met my gaze as if I was being ridiculous. Well, I know I was being dramatic but anything to get me free from his clutch.

Our names often overlap, and we tend to add physical features to distinguish one another. I step into the basement and switch on the single light. The bulb dangling from the ceiling casts a dim glow over the man tied to the chair. He’s bloody, covered in bruises and cuts, his clothes dirty and torn. Hair filthy, skin covered in filth. He’s been sitting in his own piss and shit for five days. Keeping a prisoner this long is risky. With each passing day, they get another chance to escape, to be discovered. We were lucky. “I hear they call you Vinnie the Nose,” I say as I lazily unbutton my jacket. “Walked around the city bragging about killing some kids. Is that right?”

Arista raised her head and saw a group of soldiers from the Red Moon Pack flying rapidly toward her. Leading them was Beta Henry, whom Arista recognized. He had invited her and her master to drink together before. But now, Beta Henry didn't recognize her. He shouted, "Prisoner, don't run!" Before he even finished speaking, a lightning bolt struck her. Alpha Levi's body was unharmed, but her natural body was burned in several places. Her body was already miserable; did she want it to turn to ashes too? No, she couldn't!

I hadn't been down here since the night we'd hauled two of Marcus's tranquilized guards out of the wreckage of that vehicle chase, and in the chaos of the following days — Maya's recovery, the shift training, Leo finding his footing — I'd let Kade handle the prisoner's basic processing while I focused on the people I actually cared about keeping alive. Three days was long enough to wait. Kade fell into step beside me as I descended the stairs, a manila folder tucked under his arm. "His name's Reyes. Low-ranking enforcer, been with Silvercrest about six years. Zara cleared him medically two days ago — no lasting effects from the tranquilizer. He's been cooperative with guards, uncooperative w

no, he looked like those triplets that brought out laughter and gray hair in her. “Excuse me?” “You asked about my wrists; the metal of the shackles sometimes digs in too deep and causes bruises and cuts.” Chrystal held her breath as she listened to him; she was not prepared to hear something like that. She had thought the boy had tried to slit his wrists, but shackles? Was he in prison? Or was he treated as a slave? Kidnapped? Yes, maybe he had been kidnapped and had managed to escape. Oliver, for his part, didn't know what else to do; she looked dismayed, but that was the truth. He was afraid she would rat him out and turn him into Craig. Chrystal got up and collected the dishes, then retu

Isaac smiled, “Good. Because one of the guards just did it for you.” Blaine asked, “Was it Warren?” Isaac laughed, “How did you guess?” He answered, “Warren has been a volunteer at the orphanage for a long time. He had seen what I had to go through because I was paralyzed. He also knows the prisoner was the one who paralyzed me. So, now that he’s paralyzed, shall we make our way to the dungeon?”

Turning to me, he asks, “Are you sure you want their approval?” I bite my lower lip and lean in to whisper, “Yes. I don’t trust them, but please—no inhumane punishments.” “You’ll see,” he replies with a smirk as I pull away. The doors open, and the prisoners are led in—dressed in brown shirts and shorts, chained and guarded. Dolores is carried in, her legs bandaged but her sobs echoing her shame. Next come Marina, who avoids my gaze, and a short, chubby man I recognize as the Prime Minister.

I called, already moving toward the source of that weak mental signature. I found him buried under a collapsed support beam, his body broken in ways that would have killed anyone without supernatural resilience. His left arm was crushed, his ribs visibly shattered, blood pooling beneath him from injuries I couldn't immediately identify but his chest was moving, shallow breaths that meant his enhanced physiology was fighting to keep him alive. "Help me," I commanded the freed prisoners who'd followed me into the crater. "We need to move this beam without causing more damage." They complied immediately, their own enhanced capabilities letting them lift weight that would have required machinery

I was a prisoner, entirely in his power, and it was a poisonous venom. I slid down the frozen beam, metal rubbing against my wrists. My chest hurt, a physical manifestation of the crushing loss. I, Vincent Moreau, the man who lived by taking on the world and fighting his way to the top, outwitting Damian Blackwood, was now nothing more than a caged animal. Each step, each calculated risk, each deception I had put into motion, now came flooding back, forcefully driven by the bitter harshness of being a prisoner.