Pulp Fiction Dahlia Novels & Stories

Money is just like paper for me. Flashback ended " What's the important matter you wanted to talk about? I asked Rupal impatiently. "Well, that fatty old lady whom you told me to scare, she confessed something which I thought to share with you. Maybe that information is important for you," Rupal replied. "Don't talk in puzzle. Just say, what you want to say," I told her with a rude tone. She is wasting time talking in puzzle. She exhaled some air and said licking her dry lips, "that fatty lady told me that she had killed Anamika with her own hands".

So much more important than thread and stuffing and glass eyes, wrapped in a half-torn dress. I still feel bad about that doll. The one I saved from a hooker name. A doll I carried around with me for years, and now remember only in flashes. Bare, bright impressions, like seeing something through burned retinas. Seared over everything in a glowing silhouette. The same as Loki. I barely met Loki, but when I remember him it’s with a sick stirring so deep and violent it’s like there’s a clawed hand rammed down my throat. Churning my guts around. Turning my insides into so much fine flesh confetti.

I hit the ground and rolled, coughing. And when I looked up, Dahlia was crumpled on the ground, blood pouring from a fresh wound across her stomach, her body trembling. I scrambled to her side quickly, placing her head on my lap, sobbing. She looked at me with fading eyes. “Well,” she muttered with a wince, “at least… I stabbed her.” Then her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side. “DAHLIA!”

Stella said coolly, "You have to turn yourself in and confess that you drugged me, causing me to be unable to conceive a child. Only then will I plead for your daughter in front of Mr. Hall." Dahlia's face froze and her expression darkened. "Are you kidding me?" "Why would I?" Stella raised the corner of her mouth. "I'm giving you a chance to save your daughter. With your love for Aurora, couldn't you sacrifice a little for her?" Dahlia looked at the stunning face looking at her and was choked with rage. She raised her hand and aimed a slap at Stella. Stella was prepared, so she immediately stepped back, dodging Dahlia's strike.

I watched her pull up three different screens to run different programs. It only took her three minutes and thirty-two seconds to find some useful information. “Palmer Davidson. Age forty-three. Originated from the Dalestone pack but challenged for the Alpha title of Crimson Park at age thirty-seven.” Dahlia’s face paled when she said the original pack’s name. She immediately dialed a number on her phone, putting it on speaker so that we could also hear. “Dalestone pack. Alpha Denver speaking,” a man said. Dahlia’s fingers drummed on her desk, and I could see how she was trying to control whatever she was feeling. I did the same thing when I was overwhelmed.

My hand instinctively flew to the pocket of my hoodie, fingers curling around the cold metal of the flash drive, the only proof I had that my life was being auctioned off to the highest bidder of the werewolf world. Dahlia stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, her eyes gleaming with a sick, predatory fury. She wasn't alone. Dawn stood a few paces behind her, arms crossed and her face was a mask of boredom. Dahlia, however, looked like she was vibrating with the need to kill.

These guys had walked away from millions, from a name that opened doors, from a life most people would kill for. And he was fine. He’d made a decision and lived with it, consequences and all. When was the last time I could say that? *** The changing room door opened. Dahlia stepped out in her jeans and a flannel that she was wearing earlier, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. The dress was gone, draped over assistant’s arm as she disappeared toward the back.

The makeup on her face was also exquisite. Her enchanting figure was clearly showing when she walked. Her slender legs with Balenciaga stockings were extremely eye-catching too. The woman was none other than Dahlia John. She must have gotten out of the police station after being locked up for two days straight. After entering the mourning hall with a bouquet of flowers in hand, she set them down in front of Freddy’s portrait before paying her respects. The Indians had never done anything fancy at their funerals. That was why the mourning hall seemed a little gloomy at that moment.

Sold to Diaz Cartel . Chapter 42: beauty, lust personified . Grabbing another one of the pills resting in her hand, Althea places the drug on her tongue, ready to get high. The blonde is about to swallow the drug in her mouth when a punch to the stomach forces her to spit it. She falls to the floor, grabbing her middle in pain while trying to get some air in her lungs. Althea lifts her gaze just in time to see Diaz walking past her. The brunette grabs Harley by the hair with no warning, and smashes his head against the floor.