The Main Heroines Are Trying To Kill Me Chapter 1 Mga Nobela at Kwento

And he walked away, leaving me standing there, staring at the void he left, not just in the space he occupied in my mind, but also in my heart. Malia clung to me even more, calming me a bit. I filled my lungs with air before finally facing the next sentence being carried out. If at any point I thought I would need the stomach to see this, now I realized I would take pleasure in seeing this woman suffer. — **Attention, this chapter may contain uncomfortable scenes of gore** For some reason, I couldn't feel any pain or remorse for her. I couldn't help but feel a deep disgust for the woman who screamed and struggled while being dragged by two warriors to the place where she would finally be kil

What will happen when the one they control becomes the one they can’t control? Get ready for chapter 10

Both of our eyes snap to the last person I expected to see. Chapter 1.43 Master Vs Daddy - Rourke

Blood spilled, and they all dropped to the floor, dead. Killing oneself just to prove loyalty. Then I realized, they were truly assassins. We exited the room, but couldn't get far. Wolves had swarmed in, ready to fight in their wolf forms. Humans stood behind them, all armed with guns. I shifted again, getting prepared for the fight. The assassin from the rooftop was there. The ones from the tunnel were also present. Then I knew, they all deserved to die. They attacked first, and the fight began. Claws getting dug into furs, blood spilling endlessly on the ground.

And trust me when I say—Book 2 is going to be about survival in ways that will make Book 1 look like a warm-up. Because here's what I need you to understand: We're only getting started. Book 1 was about Ivy finding her place in a world that didn't want her. Book 2? Book 2 is about Ivy TAKING her place and burning down anyone who tries to stop her. It's about Ares proving that he's not just some control freak with a hero complex—he's a man who will literally take a bullet for a child that isn't even his because he loves that child's mother beyond reason. It's about Lucas learning that sometimes the world is scary and unfair but his mama is ALWAYS going to fight for him.

“The Ghostwriter said the secret is in the title of Chapter 100. We have to reach the end before this world becomes a storm of ink.” The Girl with the Violin They ran. The ground shifted under their feet—stone, metal, soft grass. They crossed a bridge made of neon lights. In the middle, a young woman stood. She wore a gorgeous white dress, face hidden by a black veil. She held a bone violin. “Who is she?” Maya whispered, pulling back. “She’s the main character from a tragedy,” Julian whispered. “Her name is Lyra. If she plays that violin, the scene ends in sadness. Whatever we do, we lose.”

I was dying in pupbirth, begging him for a piece of Moon Grass to save me. What did he say then? "That's a strategic asset for the pack. It can't be wasted on a woman who might be birthing a vampire bastard." And now, he gave it to the woman carrying a monster without a second thought. I smirked and finished my last set of push-ups. Sweat dripped from my chin. My muscles were toning, and power surged through my veins. I was once the only female warrior with a real chance of challenging for the Alpha position.

She searched her recollection carefully, the way you check a bag for your keys when you're certain you've lost them. The heroine was named Lysa. The best friend was named something floral. There was a girl who died early in the story to establish stakes — a background character, unnamed, who crossed the wrong person and paid the price before chapter three. Clara sat very still on the road and did the arithmetic. "Oh no," she said quietly. The cart driver, who had apparently decided she was not dying after all, clicked at his horse and moved on without her.

The main target's completely been taken by the villainess! [Janet cried so hard, she's definitely not letting this go!] … I watched the scrolling comments in front of me, calmly finishing the last sip of my iced Americano. Not letting it go? Perfect. This was only the first catch. The real game did not even begin yet.