Read On Line Mga Nobela at Kwento

I unfolded the paper slowly. My eyes scanned the first line. And then everything else faded into static.

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Read the old one. Close the laptop without typing anything.

It's surprising, isn't there still a change after two years? "Well, I saw earlier that there was a line on it. I think that's a sign that you're about to find out what and what that "thing" is for." I didn't speak anymore. It's been two years since I got hold of that "thing". But for two years, there was no change. If it's really has a line now, then it means, I'm about to find out the truth. "What time is it?" I change the topic while looking at the monitor on my laptop. "Its late at night. I think I need to go to the Golden Residence."

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The gardener looked at me with a mix of pity and horror. "Dig it up. The smell stinks." My voice was indifferent. Watching the tree crash down, its roots—connected to the earth's ley lines—exposed to the air, I felt nothing but relief. I returned to the study and found the Blood Oath scrolls and cards Ethan had written to me. I shoved them, stack by stack, into the magical shredding array. The array hummed, and the sweet nothings that once made my wolf's heart race instantly turned into meaningless dust.

Below it was a single line. A link. Inviting the reader to learn the complete history. I stared at it, my breath shallow, fingers hovering just above the trackpad.

I figured the enemy of an enemy had, indeed, become a friend. I sighed and said, "If none of you believe me, that's fine. But the scholarship was already distributed early this year. Why don't we ask Lily if she received it?" The classroom fell silent for a moment. All eyes turned to Lily, waiting for her answer. Lily raised her phone and announced, "Mr. Clark, you must be mistaken. I've already received my scholarship money." Amelia's eyes went wide, her face turning red, then going completely pale.

The message preview read only one line. “Ma’am, you’re going to want to see this.” My breath hitched. Slowly, I unlocked the phone.

His voice was dark and husky and hard to resist. “I-I’ll think about it,” I stuttered. Oliver settled in with his chin resting on my shoulder, reading over me. Occasionally, he’d ask for me to wait to turn a page, and I could tell he had read faster than me when his lips found their way to my skin, which just made me read slower. I could get used to this.