The Last Samurai Novels & Stories

“But… he’s going to kill Travis… Yamamoto injected him with something, and…” "Travis has regained strength," she heard a voice that sent a wave of anger through her head. “I neutralized the drug in order to—” Flying out into the street, Sammy saw the Kamikaze held by Jasper and slapped him hard. - Bastard! he shouted. - Poor psychopath! "Quiet, Samantha..." Becker grabbed her by the shoulders and gently pulled her away from Yamamoto, whose eyes lit up with an unkind light. - Calm down, he will come back ... Travis is very strong, he can handle it.

I tell them as bring Ash onto my lap. "Myself, Chris and also Nate here are known as Lycans, Ash here is a werewolf shifter, and is pretty much the last of her kind." I say as Kim and Toni both look at me with wide eyes. "So, it's true then." We hear Paul say as he walks over to me and Ash and puts the back of his hand to her fourhead. A low growl slips mast my lips as another male is touching my mate. "What the hell are you talking about?" Kim shouts with tears in her eyes.

He pulled it out, noting the lack of a caller ID, but answered it anyway. ​A calm, chillingly familiar voice spoke into his ear. "You've disappointed me, Damien." ​Damien remained entirely silent, his jaw clenched. ​"You have one final opportunity," Victor continued, his tone conversational yet lethal. "Bring the girl to me before sunrise." ​"And if I don't?" ​"You already know the answer to that." The line went completely dead. ​Damien slipped the phone back into his pocket. "That was your boss," she stated.

The moment the servants scattered, the last wisp of air left my lungs. My soul drifted weightlessly out of my body. I hovered in a daze, half-transparent, and softly asked the system in my mind, 'Can you transmit me now? I want to go home.' But the system's mechanical voice was flat and unyielding: [Only once the male and female leads acknowledge your death can you exit this world.] I paused for a moment, then let it go. I'd survived decades—what was a little more waiting?

The final entry had been written on the day I discovered them. Leighton had written a suicide note, every word filled with guilt toward Harley. Even the way she addressed him had changed. She called him "hubby". [Hubby, if I should die unexpectedly one day, everything I own will belong to you.] [As for Logan, I've wronged him. Leave him enough money to live out the rest of his life comfortably, and that will be enough.] The blood in my body turned ice-cold, and my hand gripping the mouse trembled uncontrollably. A violent wave of nausea rose from my stomach. I grabbed the trash can and vomited.

The rideshare I was in broke down on a mountain road. None of our phones had a signal, so we couldn't even make a call. We waited from midnight until 3 a.m., but not a single car passed by. After it started raining, we had no choice but to get back into the car. That's when we noticed the female passenger in the front seat was still asleep. "Do you want something to eat?" the driver asked as he pulled out a few sandwiches and gently tapped her shoulder. Her body suddenly tilted to one side. Then she collapsed. The driver jumped in fright and tried to help her up. But the moment he leaned closer, his face turned pale. "She's dead!" he screamed. His frantic movements twisted the woman's head a

"Oh. The whole thing with you and that guy. Yeah, I remember people talking about that for weeks after." "You don't have to bring that part up. I just need the footage, if you have any." "Sorry, sorry, I wasn't trying to be weird about it." He held up a hand, apologetic, and turned his attention back to his phone, scrolling through what looked like an enormous library of saved clips organized by date. "Let me pull up January. I should have a folder from that whole month."

I guess I have to, since he is the only one Luciano gives permission to accompany us. Two men in fight shorts enter the cage, urging the crowd to cheer them on. My brows furrow. “I thought it's Lu— the Enforcer's fight next?” I make a silent prayer of appreciation, grateful I didn't call him by his name. It would have invoked a sense of familiarity I might not be able to counter. “The best and biggest fight is always saved last,” Samuele explians to us. I don't get why they keep fighting. Are they not strong enough? What do they need to prove?

"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.

On the sunset of the final sentencing, my boots navigate toward the holding cells to lock eyes with Samson a final time. Just as the iron-clad marshals prepare to drag his chained frame away to the dark vaults, my boots step directly into his path, my voice projecting absolute, unbothered calm. "My presence materialized at your cell to deliver a final goodbye. Expel all anxiety regarding the lineage. My own claws will rear the pup with absolute perfection." Samson’s golden eyes are completely hollow, totally devoid of their past life-force. For the absolute initial timeline since our paths crossed, his throat rumbles, "My tongue surrenders gratitude to your face."