Novel & Cerita The Lords Of Discipline Book

list. All I really know about Ios is that it’s a party island along the Greek coast. So why in the actual hell would Loviatar, a goddess, keep the Riding Hoods there? And why would she want anything to do with them? Compared to the gods and goddesses of this world, the Riding Hoods are nothing. Oh, they want to be something. And if they’d succeeded in turning me into the most powerful witch of all time, maybe we could’ve clawed our way into the room—but we’d never have had a seat at the table.

Sergeant Miller roared on the deck. I was not idle either. Under pressure, the Dragon Lord talent began to break through. My perception range expanded to two miles, and I could now command five hundred tamed creatures at once. I stood on the reef, eyes closed, sensing every corner of Shallow Bay. Every fish, every crab, every jellyfish beneath the water was in my consciousness. They were like my fingers, ready to move at will. Captain White walked over. "Lord, everything is ready." "Any news from the Cult?"

"We can't afford to waste any potential, no matter how... insignificant it might seem." Vincent leaned forward, his eyes glinting dangerously. "And what of discipline, Alpha? There are whispers of omegas growing bold, shirking their duties. Without consequences, how long before chaos reigns?" Elara's mind raced. She knew the truth – that any "boldness" was likely just omegas daring to stand up for basic rights. But she couldn't say that, not as Landon. She opened her mouth, praying for the right words, when a searing pain lanced through her skull.

At least it was just the two of us, but still. He leaned into me, pressing me further against the wall as he bent his head close to mine, looking me directly in the eye as he spoke. "I don't think I have." He whispered in a low, cold tone that damn well almost sliced into me just as much as his hard gaze did. "You need to get it through your thick skull that between now and the end of this week, if anyone else catches you like this, there's a damn good chance that you won't be walking away from it." I took a shaky breath. I couldn't play this game anymore, not with him. I was terrified, to say the least, and I couldn't help the fact that my whole body trembled in his grasp, but he didn't tig

In that case, I could not blame her. She had left me for a man who was nothing better than I was, and yet, according to her, he was ‘different’. Different how? He was the Capo of Cosa Nostra like I was the Capo of 'Ndrangheta. Adonis Vitale ruled most of New York alongside his rivals, the Illianos, while I ruled the entirety of Canada. We were both territorial men. We were both Mafia lords. I did not understand any part of Belle’s logic.

“You softened because you dislike confrontation. You want to be liked. But excellence requires rigor. From yourself most of all.” His hand moved to the desk behind her, caging her in without touching her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Tell me, Eliza,” he murmured. “Do you want to be good at this? Truly exceptional?” “Yes,” she whispered. “Then you need discipline.” The word again. It wasn’t about the papers anymore. Her heart thrummed against her ribs. “What kind of discipline?” His eyes darkened. “The kind that reminds you who is in charge when you forget.”

Nerine and the others strained their eyes, trying to follow the blur of the two Lords of War as they darted around at breakneck speeds. It was like trying to catch smoke with their bare hands. The moment had arrived. Alexander felt the rush of energy as the two closed in on him with lightning speed. "You think you can look down on us? We'll show you what we're made of!" bellowed the two Lords of War. They converged on Alexander, perfectly in sync, ready to strike from both sides.

Hum The next moment, a mysterious force quickly sent all the disciples to the periphery of the Investiture Stage. "Boom!" With the sound of 18 strong collisions, the sound began to ring out. Then, the throne where the nine royal disciples were located quickly evolved to 18 brand new positions. The eighteen most powerful disciples sitting on the throne looked down at everything from high up in the sky, as if the gods of all life were controlling everything... "These eighteen thrones are clearly a form of approval..." "Clang!" The friction sound of weapons suddenly appeared. The majesty of gold, iron, and blood!

he said, and the command sounded less like ownership than the discipline of a king guarding a battlefield. Bardolph heard it and did not challenge him. Instead, he turned to the Blackfang warriors and ordered them to disarm every elder still holding silver, glass, or ritual bone. That restraint hurt more than jealousy would have, because Bardolph was learning to love me by not making himself the center. Otsana noticed too, but she said nothing, because the throne had given all of us too many dangers to name at once. The first Blood Feather book opened above the throne, and a new line wrote itself in black ink across the air.

Scotch burned trail gold, obsidian devouring every swallow, power humming balanced edge. Night deepened, bodies orbiting with no collision, but collision was inevitable. His hand ghosted spine trace absent—shiver traitorous. "Sleep," he ordered, soft menace, pulling me into the lounge plush without resistance. No fuck tonight—torture purer, proximity dominance submission unspoken. Dreams twisted Rourke's snap, Darius's grin fading peace, Kenji's obsidian guarding shadows. Blood ties bound us, visceral, dark romance, an empire forged in violence and want.