Novel & Cerita Survival Methods Of The Cannon Fodder Daughter

In a cheerful voice, she called out, “Ella, go buy some chicken drumsticks. Oh, and pick up some candy for Sherrie, too. She can’t stand the bitterness of medicine.” Allison looked at Ruth’s smiling face, but all she felt was a deep emptiness in her chest. It was like a freezing void that cut straight through her. The pain was sharp and intense. Her daughter was going to get better, and Ruth was overjoyed. She never once thought about the fact that her other daughter would lose her only lifeline because of it. Allison had just learned something new. Chicken drumsticks could be used as rewards. Her life was worth nothing more than a few pieces of chicken. Ha.

“I became human.” She moved quickly, reaching for the emergency release on the glass chamber wall. The sprinklers activated, smoke shielding her in a flash of steam and sparks. Gunfire cracked behind her. Anais dove, rolled, grabbed a steel bar from the rack and swung hard. The pistol hit the floor. They stared at each other in the haze—mother and daughter, predator and survivor. “I won’t kill you,” Anais whispered, breathless. “But I’ll make sure you never touch another legacy again.”

I was once the Pythia, an oracle of Apollo. After marrying the late king, I became known as the Oracle Priestess. When my husband died in battle, I faked my death and returned to the temple. From then on, I devoted myself to protecting the capital with the gods' blessing. Then one day, they brought my daughter's body into the temple. She was covered in raw, unhealed wounds, and her eyes were still open. The attendants tossed her body, wrapped in nothing but a straw mat, onto the floor. Then they stood nearby whispering. "Poor princess. The king cared more about the Rose of Highcourt than his own sister. He let her suffer until her wounds became infected and she died in agony. "King Theron wa

Mara had packed only things she insisted might “help me stay centered.” A chipped vial of thick herbal paste. A fragile old scroll with notes about staying grounded, staying calm, staying protected. Stuff mothers pack when they know their daughter is walking into chaos. I sat on the bed and took a long breath. I had moved to the Silver Wing… farther away from Lucian, surrounded by his guards which were the strongest security layers. There was no sense pretending anymore. I stood up. Or… I tried to. The nausea hit so hard I slapped my hand over my mouth. I rushed into the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before I bent over and threw up the little tea I’d had that morning.

She used her kidnapping by rogues as a weapon, setting traps for me and my daughter time after time. Playing helpless, acting pitiful, she won Kieran's sympathy. Then she tricked my daughter into telling a scout where Willow was being held, causing her captivity to worsen dramatically when the rogues moved her deeper into their territory. From that day forward, everything changed. In the therapist's quarters, the old wolf looked at my daughter with concern, continuing to gather his herbs. "By the way, where is your father? Why isn't he with you?" My daughter lowered her head. Her voice was so small it was almost inaudible: "My father... he's dead."

" It's because of that orphan girl, isn't it? Why do we need to sensor what we say because of that Mira? She is and always will be like that damned father of hers. I don't understand why Lord Kilian still keeps her by his side. " My ears stood up with attention. They were talking about me. But why were they being to rude. What did they mean by , I would always be like my damned father? Wasn't my father an old, sickly man who died soon after my mother married him? I blended with the wall. Camouflaging was something that I often did, only when I was in my room. It gave me peace, to become non-existent anf disappear for sometimes. " You really have a death wish. Don't you remember what happened

she maybe human but she is a victim of this. She sighs and looks away. Her jaw clenches and she blinks rapidly. She wipes her face and turns back to face me. “Alpha Titus, they raped me as they did to the others that you saved alongside me. They beat us within an inch of our lives. The she-wolves were forced to drink wolfsbane and were whipped with silver. The humans like me were beaten and raped. There were some who were captured who didn’t survive. So we buried them in shallow graves. Graves that we had to dig for them.” She sighs and wipes her tears before she continued. “One of those graves belongs to my teenage daughter.” She says with tears streaming down her cheeks and I move towards

Something deeper. Twelve Years Ago as she remembered the forest was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your stomach turn. Two lanterns burned one hanging from a low branch, the other casting weak light on the cabin porch. Calvin Hunt knelt beside his daughter, who couldn’t have been older than six. Her hands trembled around the training crossbow wooden, too heavy for her arms. “Focus,” Calvin said. His tone wasn’t unkind, but it didn’t leave room for softness either. “You look for two lights not one not three just two eyes in the dark and when you see it you shoot immediately. Don’t hesitate of do the mistake of waiting”

“Who’s life did she save?” My father hesitated, then said the name like it burned to speak it. “A judge’s daughter.” Lucian inhaled sharply. My father continued, voice trembling. “The man who threatened Sophie… is the same man who attacked the judge’s daughter. Sophie stumbled onto it by accident. Her scream made him run. But he saw her face.” My entire world went white. “I don’t… remember…” My words came out broken. “You blocked it out,” my father whispered. “You were nine. Traumatized. Your mind shut it away.”

“Since you didn’t provide any of that, what kind of mother are you? The little milk money you gave me was fully repaid with interest by the time I was seven and started taking ad endorsements. The rest? I’m supporting your whole family! Maris, you’re the one who severed our mother-daughter relationship and kicked me out. You’re the ungrateful one. Go ahead, hold your press conference. I’ll hold mine too—I want to see whose press conference gets more attention!” “Being raped is not shameful; criminals are shameful. I, Esther, have wanted justice for a long time. You hold your press conference; I’ll hold mine. Let’s see how the entire nation views a foster mother who uses and then kicks out he