Rodrick Mga Nobela at Kwento

I wouldn’t call Kai for advice, besides, Kiran was the head Alpha of the World Council. Rick’s father, Alpha Stewart, had allegiance to the throne which essentially meant that he was under the king’s protection and I wasn’t. My pack had four members and his pack would be much bigger than mine. Also, I was sixteen, I was winging it at being an Alpha. We had a steady income and I’m sure that soon we’d even be able to call ourselves a very wealthy pack but we were still kids, all of us.

* * * Rodri getsto his feet as soon as he sees me, a smile on his face. His short dark brown hair is greasy, and his brown eyes are guarded. There’s no one else in the bar except my guards and a few of the Amaros. Rodri offered to meet when the bar was open for everyone, but I figured that was too much of a security risk because my guards would have to constantly watch random people coming and going. “Hello.” He grins. “I’m honored to be meeting with you.”

Bobby screamed his name, because his name has the power to pull mountains. Jairo stepped forward then, "Pa, don’t do this.” For a breath, the estate hung in the exhale. Rodrigo’s face was a map of debts and shame; he had lived under the weight of Sean Murphy’s voice for so long that it had become bone. “¡Corré, Jairo! Run!” When Rodrigo’s fingers curled back, a stray spark followed, dropped onto a slick line of diesel he had prepared. There was a bright and sudden flare..

The man stares at her then at me—wide-eyed, frozen. I know him. Rodrigo. Ran product for us a month ago. Fucked up an order, nearly got capped by Bones. Don't know the bitch's name, but I do remember her face. "War, what are you—" "Shut the fuck up." I slam the door behind me and cross the room in two strides. "Did you really think you'd fucking get away with it?" I growl. "Manage to kill me? Turn her in for the bounty?" He backs away, palms raised. "No—I swear—I wouldn't—"

I greeted with a wide smile, immediately throwing my body back onto my bed. "Hello, darling," I heard the thick British accent from my godfather say to me through the phone and a shiver ran through my entire body, "how's my little star doing?" he asked me and I bit the corners of my lips. I felt so shy as though I was beneath his intense gaze, "I'm doing ok, how about you?" I asked him. My godfather was Octavious Bradford, and he's probably the most good looking gentleman I've ever set my eyes on. It doesn't help that I have a bit of a crush on him and he continuously spoils me way more than he spoils my older sister.

Rodrick won't shut his mouth for almost half an hour talking about how he doesn't want me to live with Alessandro and it gets even worse when I tell him he promised to pay me more. "He's manipulating you!” he spits, raising a hand to tousle my hair as if he doesn't know what else to do with me. If I were an alpha like him or even a full beta, I know he would have smacked me upside the head to make me understand, "How can you not see that? He's a sicko. He wants you there for his disgusting perverted tendencies."

“Last Spring. He didn’t care what he had done, either! No matter how many times I have tried to arrange a meeting with him, he blatantly ignores me!” Woah, okay I know the Volkov family is part of the Russian Mafia but I didn’t know they dealt in the slave trade. “Does Creed know about this? Is he aware that his cousin is selling off supernatural creatures?” She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “You’re aware of Creed’s position in their pack, right? He’s the goshdarn Alpha, nothing happens without his say-so!” she exclaims, then lowers her voice and moves closer to me. “Sorry about that, just talking about it gets my back up.”

I ask playfully. He shoots me a sideways glance. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, princess.” A smirk tugs at his lips. I’m starting to learn that there are a few different versions of Brock. There’s this one- my personal favorite. The one that’s sarcastic and snarky. The one who likes to play and laugh. Then there’s the broody guy that shuts down. The intense one. The one who is so crippled by his past that he can’t move into the future. And then there’s the one that’s completely devoid of emotion, like a goddamn robot. All business all the time. That last one scares me a little. He’s hard and ruthless- I feel like he could watch the life drain from someone’s eyes without flinching.

“Aunt Rox, this Young Master Roland you kept referring to is Roland Rockwell, yes?” Rox seemed perplexed by the strange question. “Yes, what’s wrong?” “Like, Roland Rockwell? One of the Rockwells?” “Yes, certainly.” Rox assured her, “Why, is there something on your mind?” “Oh, nothing.” She was just a little appalled by this unexpected development. Where did this guy get all this money from?

It is the strange man I first saw in Ramsey’s house, the leader of the rogues. “Luna.” He says with a mocking bow when he spots me. Against my better judgment, I decide to have a conversation with him. “I’ve seen you around so many times and I still don’t know your name.” The rogue takes out a lighter from his pocket and lights the cigarette in his mouth. “Ryder.” He says, blowing smoke in my direction. “You’re not supposed to smoke here.” I say, waving away the smoke he blew my way. “Sorry.” He says but doesn’t put out the cigarette.