The Grounders The 100 Novels & Stories

That was the option given to Yang Tang before being taken from China to study and get coached in America , the moment he lost the moment they removed him. " No …!!! I can't lose to that motherfucker… that's freaking no , I can't!"Yang Tang screamed out loudly in his head. "I have to make my country proud!, I have to make couch Pat proud, yes I have to "Stanley said inwardly . 1, 2 , 3 … end! What a marvelous race , Brown Stanley swam the 200 meter freestyle in approximately 1.30 minutes, which equals to a speed of 4.8 mph per hour surpassing Yang Tang who came second with 12 seconds, what a genius!

Turning my back to look at him i said. "Alyssa" He nod. "You just move here huh?" i ask, leaning on the wall watching him while also wrapping my hand with my the wraps. He keep quiet since it's more of a statement than a question. "You do boxing?" He ask me. "Yea,do u?" I ask out of curiosity. "I'm a street fighter" Now i'm more curious. "Do u still fight now?" I raised my eyebrows in question. "I just put my name on a fighting place called 'underground' here 4 days ago"

I met his gaze calmly and said, "I'm not making a scene. I'm serious." His face twisted with anger. "Fine. If you're so set on it, then throw them all away. I don't take back what I've given." Then he turned his back to me and went on shoveling soil, as if I were nothing more than a passing breeze. I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. There was no point in continuing this conversation. My eyes lingered on him for a moment. He was tall and striking, standing nearly six foot three, every inch the guy who drew countless stares wherever he went. He had always carried himself with quiet confidence and taste, effortlessly charming to others.

Martha shoots me a weird look: “No? Why do you think I give the offender opportunity to show his navel? I practice Taekwondo, girl!” I breathe in an air of relief, “Good for you.” And thank God it’s not Kent. Despite being cocky, he is, after all, telling the truth.

My phone had barely lasted for three hours before it died from the drop in temperature. In the end, Julian never came to pick me up. The last thing I saw before my phone died was Natalie's new Instagram post. It was a selfie she'd taken in front of Julian's car, with half of his face captured in the frame. "If we can brave the snow, we can face a lifetime together," the caption read. The black phone screen reflected the relieved smile on my face. On the day I kept my promise and made my 99th proposal, he chose to spend it at a concert with Natalie.

My heels sank into the dirt, every step clumsy. The kids cracked up. The girl with those eyes walked up to me. "Are you from the city? Need help carrying something?" I slipped off my heels and stepped onto the ridge beside her. "I'm looking for you. What's your name? How old are you?" "Emma Miller. Six." I spotted the mole under her eye—same as mine. My vision blurred. "We're going to Wade Miller's house. Is that your home?" Wade Miller was the guy Sasha sold the kid to.

Fiona, or what remained of her, was in the living room, arranged around a giant pile of earth that had broken through the flagstone floor. Jim was overwhelmed by what he saw. This was so much worse than what had been done to Sloman and Cundle, there just weren’t words to describe it. Jim stood for a moment with his mouth hanging open, his jaw moving up and down as though trying to form words, or simply find a sound to describe how he was feeling. The ground beneath him swayed. The walls seemed to rush at him then recede just as rapidly. He wondered if the strange creatures in the ground were doing this, but then his legs went from under him and he fell to his knees.

I screamed across the field. He was almost at the touchdown line, but a linebacker plowed across the field and tackled him to the ground with just a few feet to go. The crowd erupted in boos and groans of disappointment, and I watched as Aiden ripped off his helmet and threw it on the ground before he fell to his knees and punched the ground a couple of times.

"I have a lot of work to do. Eighty-six days left." I turned and walked down the concrete pier toward Julian, leaving the billionaire CEO standing in the freezing gale, clutching his empty coat, realizing that even his complete surrender was three years too late.

"If you ever speak her name again, I will personally see to it that your father’s firm loses every contract they have with the Garrison group. Do you understand me?" "You wouldn't," she breathed. "Try me," Arthur said. He turned back to the stage and raised his paddle. "Fifty thousand," he called out, bidding on a modern sculpture he hadn't even looked at. The auctioneer beamed. "Fifty thousand to Mr. Garrison! Do I hear sixty?" Arthur didn't wait for the final gavel. He turned and walked toward the exit, ignoring the confused looks from Marcus and his mother, who was standing across the room. He felt a sudden, suffocating need for air.