The Last Of The Mohicans Novels & Stories

Morgan struggled desperately under her grip, unable to breathe. His face turned bright red as he frantically clawed at her arms, but June's fingers only tightened around his throat. "June… you've lost your mind…" Only when Morgan was nearly suffocating did June suddenly come back to her senses. The alcohol cleared from her head in an instant. Morgan braced himself against the wall and staggered backward step by step, fear and hatred filling his eyes. "June, you couldn't even stay loyal to your husband. Now he's gone and doesn't want you anymore—you think you can still keep anyone by your side? You think you're any decent yourself? If anyone's shameless and pathetic here, it's you."

"The Wolfe family was powerful. Your mother knew it. I knew it. They had something we needed, and they refused to share it." "So you burned them." "I protected what was mine." Dante stepped around Fenris, positioning himself between his son and the window. His gray eyes were hard, unforgiving. "And I will do it again if I have to. But first, I need you to find the last heir." Fenris met his father's gaze. "Why?" "She is the only loose end. The only witness who could tie us to the fire." "The fire was eight years ago. The police closed the case. No one is looking."

“Like it’s… aware.” “It’s always been aware,” Emma answered softly. “We just weren’t ready to hear it.” Lira’s voice was low, almost reverent. “Then this isn’t the end.” Emma stood, slipping the pulse device into her hand. She looked out at the horizon, where the first rays of sunlight pushed the night back one shadow at a time. “No. It’s the beginning. The Last Signal wasn’t an ending—it was a warning. A threshold. From here, what we build will decide whether this becomes our greatest ally… or our final mistake.”

"Jessica, do your best out there. Don't make our unit look bad." I saluted him. "I won't let you down, sir!" "Alright, get going." Mr. Hall waved me off, sounding almost annoyed. As I turned away, I caught a glimpse. The veteran who had never cried on the battlefield was quietly wiping his face as he looked to the side. – That night, Samson and Celia came home with a bunch of friends. The house was quiet and dark, and Samson was already getting irritated. When he turned on the light and saw the table covered with food, his mood finally softened.

"And from the look of things, this is not going to be very easy." Frowning I asked. "Why is that?" "He has the authorities involed-" He paused and before I could lay that off because of my connection with the officers here, he continues. "I'm afraid, you have no relation with them. They won't compromise -" "Because they are secretly working under a wanted or powerful mafia as well?" "Probably." He nodded, checking the laptop as a light shines in his eyes like another piece of information has been acquired. I leaned forward, my gaze fixed on him. "Tell me more. Where is this Russo of a guy located?"

I broke the device stepping on it without even thinking for a second and then I took Victor in my arms wrapped in the sheet. I would take him with me far away from there and I would make him tell me everything he remembered, I understood that wolves were extinct and there were none left, but in my arms was the last wolf in the world perhaps. I had to protect that child who had survived. He was weak, skinny, and perhaps in agony from exhaustion, he reminded me of me for some reason. "I'll keep you safe Victor," I said as I led him to a car not too far from the cabin, to go out on the dirt path to the main road.

"Before the Hunters could make an attempt on finding Murphy, he was already inside the woods making them doubt if the guy who claimed to have seen someone was right. "There is no one here. Not even movement in the woods" another said and chuckled. "No one can survive this. The Werewolf race ended today. Everyone to the Van now!" Their leader said and they all obeyed. ********* "So that's the end of the story," Cynthia said and exhaled sharply. She was just done narrating the story her dad told her when she was 8. It wasn't a book though but it looks like a myth in her head.

Ricardo Tucci suffered from severe prosopagnosia, constantly mistaking me for my best friend, Ella Henderson. At an antique auction, he won the gem brooch I had coveted for years, only to hand the box to Ella. When I pointed out his mistake, he merely shrugged it off. "It's just a piece of jewelry. Since it suits her, she can keep it." At an exclusive gala, Ricardo walked down the red carpet with Ella on his arm, while I, his actual fiancée, was stopped at the doors, left to endure the humiliating stares of high society. Afterward, his excuse was as careless as ever. "My face blindness got in the way again. Sorry you had to deal with that." On my birthday, he promised to drive us to o

The struggles and sorrows of that other life were finally sealed away—gently, tenderly, by the hands of time. -THE END-

"About what?" The young man's face grew serious. He looked at Emma. Then at Noah. Then whispered, "Marcus doesn't want the letter anymore." Everyone stared at him. "What?" The stranger swallowed hard. "He already found what was hidden beneath the Old River Mill." Silence. Emma felt her heart sink. "If he found it..." She whispered. "...then why is he still after us?" The young man lowered his eyes. "Because..." He looked straight at Emma. "You're the final piece of the puzzle."