Novel & Cerita Ringleader Jacket

“It’s just a ring.” Just a ring? My throat tightens. Kendall shifts in their grip, a small sound of pain escaping her when the knife presses a little deeper. “Don’t—” she chokes out, eyes locking on mine. “Don’t listen to them.” “Shut up,” the other guy holding her snaps, then covers her mouth with his free hand. “Hand over the ring,” the leader coerces. “No,” I say, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “I’ll transfer the money. I’ll write a check. But you’re not touching this ring.”

Meanwhile, the masked guys down there, of course, thought that the pretentious girl looked down on her enemies. Someone, who was standing in the front row, took two steps forward. He looked like the leader of this Voltum organization. His clothes were a little different compared to the others; they were both all white, except for the addition of a kind of short skirt on the pants and an unusual-looking buckle belt. The buckle was crystal clear, looked as fragile as glass, as if it could shatter at the slightest touch. It was a small rectangle, with an eagle-like carving in the center.

My hair was still damp and the air seeping into the bathroom suggested we were in a cold area. With nothing else to do than stand awkwardly while the brother's chatted discreetly, I decided to make the best out of my situation and observe the distinct features of my captors. The one who brought me here, clad in an Armani and possibly the most dangerous of the trio had a ring on his thumb with the insignia of a crow. Jonas, the second one wore a jacket, faded old jeans, and boots. His most distinct feature was the jarring scar spread across his cheek to his neck. The third was the girl that would not stop sulking. She looked like a fighter. Her clothing complimented it. She was in a grey cami

Their owner strode toward me. He had a dark silky fade mullet, his wavy fringe slightly tousled as if he had just run his fingers through it. A black leather jacket draped over his t-shirt. Two other guys flanked him, both just as tall and radiating the same confident energy. Sons of Olympus? "You parked in my spot." He stated flatly, gesturing toward my car. I arched a brow, glancing at the empty spaces nearby. "Didn't see a name on it."

Suddenly, he understood. "No!" he roared, lunging at Julian. "I don't accept this! I am the Don! I order you to attack him!" He turned to his own men, screaming. "Fire! Kill him! That's an order!" But no one moved. Julian slowly raised his right hand. The sun glinted off a ring on his finger. It was a black ring, carved with an ancient, intricate crest. I recognized it. The symbol of the Capo di tutti i capi—the boss of all bosses.

Ukferin, a rich and fertile land due to the Neli river that encompass the mid-east region. * "Look into the next table, my son." Cicillia whispered once more this time softer than the last, while still remaining eye contact with her son. At first no one stood out until, a tall man with a large build. He wears black leather trousers with a small side chain, and an open black shirt with nothing but a pendant underneath. In the "no jacket" version of his outfit, he wears a black tank top with the Crownsguard's insignia in gray.

I follow her gaze. Anastasia’s hand is still resting over Jake’s. There’s a ring on her finger, her Chief’s ring with the hunter’s insignia, silver with an intricate design engraved into it. It catches the light every time she moves, and I can see Aurora’s eyes trace it, just once, before she looks away too quickly. Anastasia only wears this ring for high-level hunter meetings or when she’s leading a mission. Never for casual dinners, today she must has returned from a meeting that's why she is wearing it. Jake once told me it’s a symbol of authority, a mark that carries centuries of history.

The city's most notorious outlaw motorcycle gang. ​The leader stepped off his bike. He pulled off his matte-black helmet, shaking out dark hair. He wasn't wearing a suit. He was in a grease-stained white tee that clung to his muscles, a leather vest, and heavy boots. ​Elena gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. ​It was him. ​The cold, calculated billionaire who had told her to go home hours ago. Julian Vane was standing in the center of a circle of killers, his face no longer a mask of corporate indifference, but one of raw, unfiltered malice.

It appears to be made of steel-which feels unusual for Hailey, as she is known to be a fan of nothing beneath gold and silver, and under polished too, so that it does not even pretend to be silver. I pick up the ring, wondering what it is doing there, and find a pendant on it. The sign carved on it is clear and so easily recognisable that I could not have missed it for anything in the world. Why? This is the ring of the Iraka League. ** I know the Iraka League well.

one of the tech men said. “What?” “Zoom in.” The screen sharpened. Just before the blackout— A shadow passed the corner of the hallway. Tall. Broad shoulders. Valentino leaned closer. “Enhance.” The frame cleared just enough to see a detail. A ring. Black band. Silver lining. Valentino’s eyes darkened. He knew that ring. Every member of his inner circle wore one. But only one man wore it on his right hand. Back at the estate, Aria froze when she heard footsteps behind her.