The Book Woman's Daughter Mga Nobela at Kwento

But tonight, I was standing as the Luna of two united packs, with my mate beside me and my daughter safe within our walls. The girl who once cried in a cellar was gone. In her place stood a woman who built a future. And this time, there was nothing fragile about it. *******************END********************

"Welcome back, sister. We've been waiting for you to wake up." Here, in this family with no shared blood, I felt a warmth I hadn't known in years. I slowly sat up, feeling the strength returning to my body. "Mom," my voice was calm and firm, "from this day forward, Alessia Moretti is dead." "I am your daughter." The moment the words left my lips, I felt a sense of release I had never known. The girl who humbled herself for her family, the woman tormented by poison, the daughter wronged by her loved ones. She was dead.

Serena felt the big city sure lacked a bit ethics and etiquettes but at least it didn't believe the manner of caging women all life. "Well now you did." The unknown woman of early 20s commented as she passed a short chuckle out as a reply for Serena who smiled a little. Soon watching the woman pinch the flame of the cigarette on the railing of the balcony and then flicking the cigarette off carelessly the second later. Serena knew that the unknown woman did that to not make her feel uncomfortable with the smoke anymore. Serena appreciated that gesture well. At least she was considerate enough for her presence. "What is your name?"

I say with a smile. The woman speaks again. Her daughter says, “Mama says.” “Your mother is wrong.” The woman laughs. “Mama is never wrong about this. She’s De Wijze Vrouw. Wise woman.” “Like a… a witch?” I stammer. Then the older woman smiles and walks away into the darkness like she hasn’t just put my world off its axis. Her daughter touches my arm and goes back to the group. It’s just not possible. No way am I pregnant.

I said firmly as I kept my gaze fixed on him. “Oh...oh...please, where is my daughter, where is my little sweet Hazel? Please, give her back to me,” The woman wailed as she struggled to breath. I snapped my eyes at her. “You better forget about her and worry about yourselves, or do you think you are safe?” The woman began to sob, and her cries rang through the entire cell. I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I made my way out of that cell and into an inner room that was directly inside the cell we stood in.

Chapter 17 “Your daughter?” The voice asked unbelievably, and the woman nodded her head in excitement. “The prince has done a huge favour for me by bringing her back to the land, now she will soon recover from her lost memories and will join me in defeating them” saying she laughed again, and the voice joined with her in laughing. “I forgot to say something.” “What was it?” the woman asked. “They are in full swing of finding the book” the voice said hurriedly and the evil witch became serious all of a sudden narrowing her eyes not so in particular place.

Thane asked. “The reports are so clear,” the woman said. “She ejected a possession and severed a mate bond. Power is in the First Daughter’s blood. From her blood, we can raise an army that serves only us. You were the one all packs would follow as you had been told.” "And if she resists?" Thane asked. The woman laughed, and the noise made my skin prickle. "Then we'll just take what we need." She is already marked. Already claimed. She just doesn’t realize it — yet.”

Consequences be damned. My mate saunters over under the cover of darkness. I feel him press his body against mine. His muzzle buried in my neck inhaling my scent. A growl of approval rumbling in his chest. I wish to stay right here forever. Pretend we are alone in this embrace. Our two wolves leaned against one another, their own moment with their destined mate. “Shift, my daughter of Selene! Shift as your Immaculate Mother commands!” The woman says, her voice full of authority.

I closed the notebook hugged it to my chest and let myself breathe — deep, full, frightening breaths. Breaths that tasted like possibility. Breaths that tasted like rebirth. And it hit me: Maybe this story wasn’t about three brothers. Maybe it was about one woman… finally becoming someone she never believed she had the right to be.

"That's exactly what you said. Don't regret this." ... The ballroom was warm and loud when I pushed through the heavy doors. Chandeliers blazed overhead. Father's cigar smoke curled toward the ceiling. They were celebrating—Bianca's confirmation as Blackwell heir, her takeover of the East Coast operations starting Monday. My arrival dropped the temperature in the room. Mother stood at the head table, champagne flute in hand. Her smile cracked when she saw me. "Gemma?" She set down the glass. Her hand landed on my drenched shoulder, light as dusting off a coat. "You're soaking. Why didn't you call ahead?"