Romans & histoires The Book Woman's Daughter

Since then, he and his ancestors have fallen upon him to hunt them down and try to eliminate them and prevent them from going outside the Bermuda Triangle in vain, until she appears, the flame of hope that they have been waiting for centuries gone by, they hear about in the legends that his mother used to tell him, the tale of the daughter of the sun, a woman born from The light of its rays, its blood carries miracles, capable of burning entire cities, including them, leaving them to ashes, no one can confront them, and there is no weapon on the face of the earth capable of stopping them. And here he stands in her presence, separated only by a fragile glass, bearing witness to her suffering,

Ayla was blonde, a blonde so light it looked like silver in the sun. But they talked about a woman as well, but I don’t remember ever meeting Alex and Asher's mother. And to ask about her was out of the question. I made a mental note to talk with my parents when we got home. Could Ayla be related to Alpha Adam? Is she a daughter from the Blue Moon Pack? But why would a man like Adam send his daughter away? What could have been so wrong for him to have to? Or is all this just my imagination?

I told her, “And no one, is allowed to see her. Not even you.” The woman flinched, but I didn't stop. “The first time your daughter ended up in a strange situation in the woods, it could be called a coincidence,” I said, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. “But the second time? That is very hard to believe. I don't know why you two really came back to this pack. But answer me this: how can your daughter, who is supposed to be a regular, defenseless human, kill not just one rogue, but twelve notorious, hardened rogues all by herself?”

She admits that her love for Xuan never diminished, but now she wanted to live for herself and her children. “Mommy, what is this book?” Athalia rumbled while playing with her porcelain doll, watching Allana sign the tons of books piled on her table. Allana looked at her youngest daughter and kissed her forehead before she took her and made her sit on her lap. “This is a book about a great love, love for yourself, for the people around you, and a love that healed you and gave you lots of things to learn in life,” she answered, Athalia furrowed her brows and pouted her lips.

I grinned like an idiot and took the stuffed flower bouquet from Elayne. "Thanks." Then I went quiet, eyes glued to my phone. Elayne slid her hand over the screen. "Don't look at that." I shook my head. "It's fine. I'm not mad." The camera zoomed in—Mom and some girl in the pic. Caption: [Valentine's Day with my daughter, Tia.] Elayne gave me that look—like she was trying to read my mind. I forced a smile. "I know her. Tia was in the bed next to Dad. She's an orphan. Got better thanks to donations.

“Yes, ma. Her name was Clara. Her daughter was only five years old.” The woman was shaking, clutching something tightly in her hands — a small, burnt piece of cloth. It looked like it came from a child’s dress. She looked empty, broken, like her soul had burned with her daughter. Tears filled my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I wish I had come earlier.” The woman didn’t look at me. Her voice came out weak and trembling. “They said the fire started on its own,” she whispered. “No candles, no lamp… just fire. Out of nowhere.”

"Your daughter consumed us. She ate my family. She tortured us for two years. She's traumatized? She's the victim?" "Yes," the woman said. Simply. Certainly. "She is. My daughter came to your world offering gift. Offering evolution. Offering partnership. You responded with violence. With imprisonment. With torture. You—" "She killed people!" Reaper shouted. "She tried to enslave humanity! She—" "She tried to save you," the woman said. "From yourselves. From your limitations. From your—your humanity." She said the word like curse. Like insult. "My daughter saw potential. Saw what you could become. Tried to help. And you—you punished her for it."

No wonder Riley insisted on having her sleeping here, it was a little girl’s mansion. I heard music talking coming from the back as I approached the house so I followed it. I looked between the cracks of the gate and saw the group of girls dancing and playing in their pajamas. My attention was quickly drawn to August who was talking to a woman. She was stunning and matched the settling of his home. She also looked familiar but I couldn’t place her. Maybe her type was what he was looking for, put together classy businesswoman.

said the man who appeared to be the leader, approaching her. "Don't you dare touch her! If you dare, come and untie me. I'll show you how to really fight! Right, man? Are you really hurting a woman who can't defend herself?" I shouted again, trying to get their attention. But no matter how loud I shouted, no one looked at me. It was as if they had set their target and were only focused on the woman. "Please, I beg you. Even if you kill me today, please don't kill my daughter. She was born just five hours ago," said the woman, bowing her head submissively before them.

She looked down, clearing her throat. The woman opened both books on the draw leaf table before her, displaying their pages in the flickering light. She told Richard to lay his palms on each of them, and to concentrate on his daughter, his Katelyn Jane Franklin, to fill his every thought with her, as if that were not already true.