Novel & Cerita Stray Dogs Book

I’d been forgotten in hell. The other inmates called me “the stray nobody wanted”. Violence was their sport; filthy words were their weapon. “Still lying about being Alpha’s lover? How come he never visits?” Their laughter echoed off the walls as fists rained down on me. “You think you could be a Luna? Wake up! You’re a stray dog. Say it!” Curled up on the floor, bleeding and crying, I whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m a stray dog. I don’t deserve Alpha… I won’t love him again…”

The heavy, reinforced steel doors of the private elevator slid shut, sealing the three of them inside a vacuum of absolute, suffocating silence. Maya remained on her knees, her hands buried deep in the thick, silver-tinted fur of the wolf across her lap. Bear’s flanks were shuddering violently, his breathing coming in shallow, wet hitches that vibrated against her knees. The copper scent of his blood mixed with the scorched smell of ozone filled the small space, making her head spin.

The rumpled chain-link and the scent of other dogs told Rhett that strays frequented the area, raiding the bins for food. He was much bigger than the average stray dog, and he ran the risk of getting caught, trapped mid-wriggle under the fence, but the position on the other side would be secure and he would be well hidden. He couldn’t smell Cameron, but he hoped that maybe he’d find his mate on the other side. With the Van Helsings distracted he decided to go for it and bellied down. The fence rattled and shook, making far more noise that he liked, and the bottom edge was ragged, catching in his fur, and burying through it to his skin.

Five years ago, I took the blame for every crime my family had committed and was thrown out of Black City like a stray dog. Five years later, I returned as the Donna—the head of Raven, one of the world's most powerful mafia organizations. Only to find that my family had been framed and destroyed, and our stronghold burned to the ground. In an abandoned slaughterhouse, blood ran across the floor. Isabella, the arrogant heiress of the newly powerful Leoni family, was grinding her red-soled heel into my cousin Marco Franco's face. "You Franco piece of trash. Kneel and beg me, be my dog, and I'll toss you a scrap of food." Blood ran from Marco's nose and mouth, but he clutched the Zippo lighter—

"If my visitors would like, it'll be fine to join I guess." "Then I will tell boss about it as soon as possible." After talking for awhile, Mariel left my room to study. I on the other hand was busy dealing with the payment for my shelter's papers. I must work hard to save those lovely animals who were abused and neglected. Stray dogs were so pitiful and I wanted to give shelter for them. My heart always warmed whenever I see them. "What are you thinking?" A deep manly voice suddenly asked out of nowhere. As my eyes explored its sight, Black who was leaning at the door, coolly brushed his black hair with his slender fingers.

“Really? Brady asked. “They run that far?” “Not usually.” she said. “Most of the time, they jump out of a vehicle, like when they stop for gasoline or something like that.” “That’s so sad!” Brady said, shaking his head. “Does that happen a lot?” “No, I don't think so, but it does happen.” There’d been a few dogs reunited with their families who happened to stop to refuel or for other reasons in Holiday Hills since Noelle had taken over the shelter, but not a lot. “Most of the strays we get in are people who dump their dogs because they don’t want them anymore, or just accidents where a dog gets out from a door left open or digs under the fence.”

“You’ll want the left wall. The right’s colder.” I step inside, and the floor crunches underfoot—salt, scattered thick as if to keep something from growing. I kneel, run my fingers through it, and find bits of fur, old nail, the flecks of whatever happened to the last wolf who lived here. He follows me in, glances at the wall, then at the blank stretch of stone above the cot. Tacked there with a rusted spike is a parchment, written in a precise, formal hand: CONTAINMENT PROTOCOL, STRAY MOON:

I gasped, finding it impossible to breathe. Just when I thought I would die on that desolate street, a car screeched to a halt beside me. A man jumped out and ran over. He scooped me up in his arms. His familiar voice was filled with urgency. "Mel, breathe! Don't be scared. Just breathe!" I raised my head, and Evan Rochester's face came into view. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, I finally broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

Amilia let go of the hold she had on her body but she was still alert and waiting, for that specific timing to strike. Amilia was sitting on one of the long sofas when a Stray entered the room. It jerked his head when it sensed a presence in the room. Amilia gave the Stray a huge smile beckoning it to come near. It abides by her and not a second long, the Stray was already standing in front of Amilia with its head bowed down on its chest. “Where is everybody?” The Stray did not answer, instead, it kneeled and put its head on Amilia’s lap. The touch sends needles to Amilia’s whole body. The urge to vomit intensified but she had no choice but to just hold it in and accept everything.

Chapter 7: OLD INKS AND SCARS The journal felt heavier than it looked. Arden stood alone in his study, the jade green bag discarded on the floor, the leather bound journal open in his trembling hands. The first page had already gutted him: if anyone finds this, I'm probably dead. He turned the page. Day 1 of suffering. They call me “the stray” . I don't have a name here. Mother's necklace is the only thing that reminds me of my name.