Novelas y relatos de The Matthew Shepard Story

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

I had questioned traders who passed through Caine land, warriors who had once served under Ronan’s father, and servants dismissed after the massacre. Most refused to speak his name. Those who did lowered their voices first. The Ruthless Alpha. The Mad Wolf of the North. The Beast of Caine Territory. Every story changed depending on who told it, but they all ended the same way. Ronan Caine had murdered his own family. Then he had locked my sister beneath his home so she could never reveal what she had seen. The letters proved it. At least, they proved Mara was alive. That was enough. I lowered the pen. The metal nib scratched across the parchment.

"A murder in New York is New York's case, not mine; Different department, and different states. But I will take your statement and log the evidence, and make sure it lands on the right desk so it can be processed. Murder doesn't expire no matter how long it takes." I nodded, relief and disappointment tangling in my chest. If I may ask, why wait six years if you've had this video all along?" "Because I was a coward! I was pregnant. I ran, and told myself it would go away if I never looked at it." Her expression softened. "That's not a crime, Miss Matthews. That's survival." She tapped the phone. "Do you know who that shooter is?" My mouth went dry. "He looks exactly like Elias Lockwood"

"I might be dead in two days. If you're going to tell me, tell me now." He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then he spoke. "When I was twelve, my father took me on my first hunt. We got separated. I found a bear trap instead." He rolled up his left trouser leg. There was an old white scar wrapped around his calf like a snake. "I was too young to shift and heal it. I dragged myself for two days. I ended up at the edge of your village, half dead." I stopped chewing.

She had Matthew, and in the end, she knew everything had a way of working out the way it was supposed to be. The person who had killed nearly sixty people and who had hunted her down was on trial. He was trying to plead insanity, and she thought he had a good chance for it. He was insane. She had figured that out as he was talking to her that fateful day. It was almost odd how they went back to work right after everyone had cleared out that day. She had been shocked at how quickly they both had got over the whole thing, but she knew she had much more to live for now than she had ever before.

“He was a bully. He tried to force himself on me… again. I pushed him away, but then she came. She killed him. I didn’t stop it.” Matthew had just sat there, stunned. No questions. No judgment. When I looked down in shame, expecting disgust, he’d only said: “Never tell anyone else. Not unless you want to. This stays between us.” I nodded then. I didn’t know what to think of him—why he still wanted to help me after what he’d seen. But it warmed something buried deep under the fear. Now, the bus hissed to a stop, and the silence of Cavenshade engulfed us. Matthew stood first and offered his hand.

“I… I killed them.” Matthew told her the thing that he had kept bottled up. It was not exactly a secret. Matthew simply hasn't told anyone else aside from Susan who already knew. The next person to know was the mother of one of his parents. The worst person to know about it, was what Matthew thought. “Matt.” Raisya held Matthew’s face in her hands and forcefully turned his head to look at her. “Explain to me.” Matthew was forced to look at Raisya’s expression who had mixed feelings. Anger. Confusion. Worry. Sympathy. It seemed that she was keeping all these feelings inside her and decided to hear the whole story first.

She proceeded to discuss confidentiality and had me sign a contract for it. "I guarantee you, Ms. Altamera, that your secret is safe with me," she smiled. "Now, shall we begin? What seems to be the problem?" "Well," it was just the beginning of our session and my voice cracked as I thought of my troubles. My hands were sweaty on my lap. "Well, recently I had attempted to... you know... reject my mate under circumstances which led to me nearly getting killed." "And those circumstances are?" "Well, it's because of my past."

No one knew such a thing could happen and of all the people in the cartel, it was Elon that the bullet hit. As Matthew got inside the room, he met Sophia cuddling by herself on the bed. He knew she was angry with him. He has to look for words to tell her and calm her down now. He sighed and hurried to the bathroom to have a hot bath. Elon’s blood was spilled over his body making it more painful. In the bathroom, Matthew allowed the water from the shower to pour on his body as he held the wall and buried his face there. “ Argh” He hit the wall; pained.

If he came near the town, Matthew planned on getting Juliet as far away from Sophia as possible while he or someone on his team dealt with the visitor. He hadn't shown his face yet, but it was only a matter of time. Tears were streaming down her face, and her hands were waving around as she told the officers what had happened. She kept pointing down the street before she paused and took a deep breath. “He can tell you,” Her lips mouthed, and Matthew watched as she began to spin around, searching for someone only to turn back crestfallen when she didn’t find her witness. Matthew began walking forward slowly, hoping to hear something as he crossed the sidewalk on the other side of the street.