Novel & Cerita Scarred Emily Mcintire

Scarlett’s head spun, memories of overheard arguments, her mother’s trembling voice, and the dark figures she once thought were shadows now clawing back vividly. “She said she was going to meet someone the day she disappeared,” Emily continued. “She promised she’d be back, but she never came home.” Scarlett blinked, a tear falling onto the table as her voice cracked, “All these years, I thought she left because she didn’t want us.” Emily reached across the table, gripping Scarlett’s hand tightly. “She loved you more than anything, Scarlett. She fought for you.” A sob tore from Scarlett’s throat, her shoulders shaking. Sebastian shifted, pulling her into his embrace, pressing a firm kiss to h

Emily shivered lightly beneath his hands, not from nervousness, but from the unfamiliar gentleness of being touched like she truly mattered. Every moment with him felt patient. Like he was learning her carefully instead of simply taking from her. Emily helped him pull the shirt over her head before reaching for his own. Damien laughed quietly against her lips when she struggled briefly with it, then lifted himself slightly to help her remove it fully. Her gaze drifted across the scars scattered faintly across his skin. Evidence of battles. Survival. Pain. Emily touched one lightly with her fingertips. “You’ve been through a lot too,” she said quietly.

His deep-set eyes, high nose bridge, full and broad forehead, and sharp yet steady jawline— Without the mask, he must be very handsome. Emily’s hand gradually moved upward, touching the skin on his left cheek where there was a coin-sized scar, starkly different from the smooth skin elsewhere. “Is it here?” Her fingertips brushed gently, like a feather. She pressed a little harder, carefully tracing the scar. “The scar is big, isn’t it?” Emily shook her head. “Emily, are you afraid of me?” Emily spoke softly, “What I fear isn’t the scar on your face but the past of yours that I don’t understand.”

As long as I was on Gil's back, my aura repelled him enough to be bearable for Gil. Drix and I were not on talking terms. Scarlette returned when I was asleep so I wasn't able to help him control his temper. Scarlette had a large scar on her arm and cheek that was struggling to heal. It looked like she was burnt with flame and then strangled with something. No one would tell me what happened so I commanded Gillian to tell me what happened. My command held superiority over Drix when it came to guard-gifted so Gil confessed.

But she didn't smell any particular smell on Emily's body. Seeing Emily really confused, Lisa curled her lips to brush the hair that fell on her forehead, revealing an indistinct scar on her white forehead. "Because of this." In her previous life, she wondered how Mark, such a pervert, could bear with her alone, even if she touched his dead end a few times, he wouldn't hurt her in the slightest. She later recalled that she had once stared at the scar on her forehead, perhaps because she had inadvertently scared her as a child, causing such a scar on her beautiful forehead, for so she always blamed herself, felt sorry for her.

He topped up my cup without asking, using the action as cover for our conversation. "But alive," I replied, keeping my voice low. He nodded, glancing at the television. "Barely, from what I hear. Third-degree burns down her left side. Internal bleeding. The blast threw her against a stone wall hard enough to crack three ribs." I sipped the freshly poured coffee, savoring both the heat and the information. Emma, my Emma, scarred and broken. It was almost poetic—her physical form finally reflecting the damage she'd done to our bond, to my reputation, to my pack. A fitting punishment, but not sufficient. Not nearly sufficient.

"You worthless woman, what right do you have to have the Don's favor? After today, you'll be a filthy thing anyone can touch! I want to see if the great Don Valerius still wants you when you're nothing but used goods!" She pulled out a vial of some drug and forced it down my throat, then took out her phone, ready to record Marco torturing me. In my despair, my hand fumbled for my phone in my purse. I blindly dialed Caspian's number from memory. The second the call connected, I screamed with all my might, "Caspian—!" Crack! Marco kicked the phone out of my hand, and the screen shattered. "You bitch, you dare call for help?" Marco sneered, lunging at me and tearing at my clothes.

It feels good. I close my eyes, letting myself enjoy it. “So many scars…” he whispers. I pause. “Mm, I was a…wild child, according to your mother.” He takes a deep breath, bracing himself. “Did any of these…were any of these because of me?” I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m not going to lie. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to, Colt.” He knows that means yes. He closes his eyes and nods. Then he leans in close, his breath brushing my ear. “Well, I’m going to love you until I can melt those scars away.”

Serena's POV Dad's brow furrowed. "You'd rather go back to eating scraps than take fifty grand a month?" Donald didn't bother hiding his disgust at my scarred face. "I'm not qualified to protect Miss Ferrari, sir." I sighed. Ever since I got these scars at ten trying to save Bianca, this face had been nothing but a source of revulsion for everyone. Maybe that's why Edward treated me like garbage in our past life too. "Donald! You can't abandon my sister!" Bianca frantically grabbed his arm, trying to pull him to his feet.