The Perfect Victim Book Novels & Stories

The witnessed that someone truly loves me and that is VINCE. That someone can accept me and that is EUGENE. But, despite the love and acceptance, they give. My heart still chose one person. HUNTER, the only person I love since then and love till now. If people will accuse me of being The Martyr, then I will accept it wide arms open. _THE END_

He pointed a shaky finger toward the fence, where the dark shape of an SUV was idling in the shadows, its headlights cutting through the rain. "It’s a nice car," Victor said, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "High safety ratings. Plenty of room for two people to run away and start a new life. The only problem is the ten pounds of plastic explosives I had my men wire to the ignition." "No," I breathed, clutching the ledgers tighter. Nikolai didn't move. He was like a statue. "Victor, let her go. This is between us. Take the books and let her walk away."

She dodged, slamming her elbow into his throat. Gunfire boomed above—Noah. Damien emerged from the shadows, killing another attacker before they could get a shot off. Evelyn's rifle cracked in the distance. Headshot. It was over in seconds. But Mercer was nowhere to be seen. A Message from the Devil A phone was ringing. Lena stood over the man she'd pinned. White, trembling, his hurt hand still stuck to the table. "Answer it," she commanded. The man strained, engaging the speakerphone.

When he reaches her bedroom, he lets her delicious body slide down his, igniting him with further cravings. Victor didn't want to let her go, but it was the only way to rid themselves of the clothes they were wearing. The heat of the friction was driving her crazy with lust. Victor, gaze into those intoxicating brown eyes as she gazes back into his desirous eyes. Victor runs his hands down her soft flesh. Her waist felt tiny under his large hands. She was female in every way possible and beautiful. A sweet contradiction of purity and naughtiness rolled into this perfect little woman. Victor wanted to give all he had to her, making a perfect night. His mouth waters as he lets his mouth drink

she said, "I didn't see anything like that, not on the front page, anyway." Wednesday night, Ruth dreamt that she was some kind of feminist nut. She was stalking a guy who had been accused of date rape. Ruth, whoever she was in her dream, caught up with him in the shadows behind the field house. Ruth felt a thrill of satisfaction, as she struck, dropped him with a blow to the head. She used a bronze statue of Athena which "Ruth" had won as some sort of award. She examined it, in the dim light, to see if anything had broken or bent when she heard that THOCK, the sound of bronze meeting bone.

I had to be a better liar, a better actor, and a colder strategist than all of them combined. The meal was delicious, the wine was expensive, and the lie was perfect. “Is it good, Hon?” I asked, my voice tilting with a fake, girlish curiosity. “Perfect, Vic,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Everything is finally back to the way it should be.” I smiled wider, the chill in my chest growing into a blizzard. No, Dan. It’s exactly the way I want it to be. The “Perfect Wife” was serving the last meal of his innocence. And the spy was just getting started.

"The question isn't whether she became a liability. The question is whether we are a community that punishes victims of extortion. If Elysium stands for safe, sane, and consensual exchange, how do we handle a scenario where consent was completely stripped away by an outside predator?" Victor remained silent, absorbing the crossfire of their pain. His presence was a massive, immovable anchor in the center of the storm. I turned my head slightly to look at his profile. The harsh angles of his jaw were relaxed, his dark eyes sweeping over Marco, Jennifer, and Leo with a profound, terrifyingly deep empathy. He wasn't acting as the unyielding Master today; he was a man who had nearly lost everyth

Her carefully constructed world, her perfect narrative, was collapsing around her. “She always gets to play the victim, doesn’t she?” she hissed, the words laced with decades of bitterness, a resentment that ran deeper than her fabricated concern. “No matter what she does, no matter how she wrecks everything, no matter how many lives she touches and shatters—everyone always chooses her. Always Evelyn.” The injustice of it, as she perceived it, was a burning acid in her throat.

" I told him that you don't get to act like the victim here and try to escape. I spat as I coughed violently, "You assaulted me, and God knows how many you killed on your way up here! I don't care if you are the heir apparent of this shithole you and your type constructed of this country. You are not the victim here! I am!!!" Aric froze in place and seemed at a loss for what to say. Now that my poison was gone, I had nothing but the door behind me to keep me from collapsing. As I slumped to the floor, breathing heavily, I barely registered Aric's arms grabbing me before the room began to blur in and out.

“Do you see how wrong that is? That you, the victim, suffered, and the asshole who attacked you and your good name got off without any repercussions at all?” “He didn’t force me.” “He lied to you,” Cain said. “He set you up and victimized you. You told me you were a virgin when that happened, which means he stole something very precious from you. Don’t let him keep winning. When you make decisions based on what he did to you, you’re letting that son of a bitch win. Never again, Anne. No matter what happens, you’re never to feel like a victim. You’re better than that, and you’re a damned sight better than him.”