روايات وقصص ضمن The Murder Of Valentina Rogue

Valentina smiled without warmth. “You smell like…” she inhaled deeply, “…wolf.” My blood turned to ice. She stepped in front of me, placing two fingers under my chin, tilting my face up. “Tell me, child…” her voice lowered dangerously, “…why do you smell of wolves?” My mind raced. I couldn’t say Ace’s name. I couldn’t tell the truth. So I said the most dangerous lie of all: “I killed one.” Valentina froze. Maria gasped behind her.

Leo said to his eldest brother, the only one in the house when we arrived. "Sure," Mateo said, nodding before smiling at me. I sat on the sofa and tried my hardest not to listen to their conversation. You'd think a house of werewolves would invest in soundproof doors for their office, wouldn't you? "A rogue killed a girl this morning," Leo said sincerely. "Who?" "Amber Valentinetti," Leo answered. "Your Beta's sister? Why?" Mateo questioned. Leo sighed, "There is a lot of shit going on with the rogues out there. Until the war, we had had little trouble with them for months. But now we're at our weakest, they've come back in full force. More than full force."

Gently, I dropped her to her feet, knowing that more trouble was to come and I had to be prepared. "Oh, my world! You killed him!" Venita exclaimed before landing with a thud on the floor, having passed out. As the other four Rogues half-transformed and advanced towards me, I remained composed. I grabbed one by his collar, digging my claws into the heart of the next, ripping it out. The one in my grip received a bloodied punch to his face before being slammed into the ground with force, followed by a merciless bashing of his face with the heel of my shoe. Left with two Rogues attempting to flee, I pursued them, swiftly snapping their necks. Satisfied with my handiwork, I cleaned my hands on

“I have nothing… except rage.” The rogues laughed, but their laughter ended quickly. Valen’s wolf surged forward. He moved faster than their eyes could follow. His claws tore through the first rogue’s chest, blood spraying across the leaves. The second tried to run, but Valen caught him by the neck and snapped it with one sharp twist. The third rogue fought back, his claws slashing, but Valen bit deep into his throat and ripped it out. He stood over the bodies, breathing hard, his face and hands dripping with blood. For a moment, he looked up at the sky and laughed. The sound was broken, echoing through the forest like the cry of a madman.

That was when the Rogue's lips twisted into a chilling smile, and his gaze slowly turned toward us. "Don't you even know the crimes you've committed?" His voice rasped like an old, broken instrument. "Are you talking about the soldiers from Valdora torturing captured Rogues?" Julian asked calmly. The Rogue silently clenched his fists. Julian spread out a few photographs on the bed—images of the nine captives who had disappeared. "Do you recognize them?" "You actually don't know who he is?" The Rogue had a faint smirk on his lips as he looked at one of the photos. "The 22nd of August was his funeral."

“She died saying she loved you, even though you practically slit her in two.” “Well I am lovable,” he smirked, golden eyes flitting towards me, giving me a wink as though we were in this together. “You see Dec, when you don’t look like something a vet would put down, when you’ve got the charm…you’ve got to use it. Mara loved me, I liked her. But everything has an end.” “As easy as that?” “You’re the Rogue, of course you know how easy it is. You killed Valdis and Ronan like snapping a twig. Don’t pretend you’re any better than me.”

Ava stiffened, but Damien stepped forward, protective, “No. We didn’t steal anything, she was never yours to claim.” Valentina laughed bitterly, her hands spreading in mock surrender. “Never mine? I found her bleeding on a roadside, broken and abandoned. Where were you then, Roth? Drowning in your wealth? She was dying, and I gave her life. I gave her a name when she had none. Valerie is mine because I made her.” Selena flinched at the name—Valerie. It was fading already, crumbling at the edges, but Valentina’s voice wrapped around it like chains.

“Because she grounded me. She makes me believe in myself.” I scoffed. “She’s not perfect,” he said quickly. “But… neither am I. I know that doesn’t make sense to you, but—” “Are you aware she murdered my grandfather?” I cut in. He froze. “…Is there proof?” he asked slowly. Rage flared hot and immediate. Ostara stepped in before I could speak. “There’s no physical evidence, but she confessed.” “When?” Valentin asked. “When we were kidnapped by an ex-leader of the Italian mafia.”

One caught my eye – burning brighter, newer than the others. "Valentina Salvatore." Santa Muerte gestured to the bright flame. "Dead three minutes and fifteen seconds ago. Car accident, they say. Though we both know accidents are rare in your world." "Salvatore?" My heart would have skipped if it still beat. "Nicolas Salvatore's wife?" "Adrian's half-sister, though few know that truth." Santa Muerte wove her hand, and before me flashed a vision of Valentina finding papers about my murder, calling people, her car losing its brakes on some mountain road. "She died trying to expose your murder."