The Second Life Of Mirielle West Summary Mga Nobela at Kwento

Chapter Seventy-Two: I Will Follow You Around Hawkins' POV I just couldn't let Miracle go. Not like that. Not again. So I did what I had to even if I turned out to be the bad guy, and followed her when Landon, that bastard, took her back to where she came from.

Mira said, before a loud, heart‑piercing, ear‑blocking cry tore from her throat as her intestines twisted. “Wake up,” she called her wolf. There was no response. “Wake up, please,” she cried. “Wake up and fight this. You are strong enough.” But her wolf was gone. Silent. “Ah. No. No,” Mira cried in anguish. The loss crushed her completely. She collapsed to the ground. “So I’m dying without a wolf. How pathetic.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. Seraphina stretched out the bag again. “It’s not too late, Mira. You can still live. Even if your wolf is gone.”

Her body became her currency, and men were her bank. And then, she met Liliana. Liliana, who seemed to have it all—a warm family, a stable life, even if she didn’t have her parents. Her grandparents loved her dearly, and that was enough to keep her grounded. That love… that peace… Mirabelle wanted it all. And now she had taken the man Liliana loved. But it wouldn’t stop there. Next, she would take her grandparents. And she would find out who that sugar daddy was—the one who picked Liliana up tonight in that sleek, expensive car.

"What do I do now mother, I have lost it all?." She looked at me, and smiled, "You have me Mirabel. Now listen to me, you have two options — if you want peace? you drink the chemical and die, but if you want justice? Burn everyt hing they love. We strike back, forgiveness is not an option

The fire cracked in the hearth, casting shadows like wolves across the walls. Her second life had begun. And this time, the hunt was hers.

Mira turned back toward the city. There was work tomorrow. Not war. Work. And she would meet it as she had learned to meet everything else. Standing. Steady. Unbroken. she remained there as the lights below continued to multiply each one a quiet promise that life did not ask permission to continue it simply did. Mira did not move for a long while. Time passed without measure. The kind of time that existed only for those who had survived enough to respect stillness. Her breathing slowed. Her thoughts settled. This was not peace in the fragile sense. This was balance earned through loss.

"You need to be more sensible, Elvira." I spent my entire past life being sensible. I was sensible enough to marry the man the family had chosen for me. I was sensible enough to put up with his abuse. I was also sensible enough to play the part of a happy wife. However, I still died despite being sensible in my past life.

Then she picked it up, folded it along its original crease, and held it in her closed hand. Outside the window, the city moved through its ordinary morning, and Mira Castellan finished dying, and Wren Calloway drew her first breath.