The Third Wheel Strikes Back Novels & Stories

I went for it again slamming it barely as it swerves out of the way into the opposite direction and disappears. Bringing my car to a stop, I rested my head on the sterling wheel. My breath coming out in large puffs like I had just ran a marathon. There was hardly a doubt that they were Lester’s goons. So this is how he wanted to play. If he thought he was going to scare me into hiding, he was playing. I was not going to back down not until I had gotten revenge. I pulled out my phone and for some unknown reason saw myself texting Kendrick to tell him what happened.

Judging. Then the Third Crown pulsed. Truth. Immediately. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Then Thomas looked toward the key. And froze. The key wasn't glowing. Not anymore. God. No. Fair. Absolutely not. Reasonable honestly. Then the key cracked. A tiny crack. Barely visible. Then another. Then another. Then Thomas shouted. Then: "STOP!" Nobody listened. Then the Third Crown exploded with warning. Truth. Danger. Immediately. The key wasn't testing them.

On our wedding night, my wife, who almost never drank, got wasted because she was supposedly too happy. Just when I didn't know what to do, my best friend sent me a long message explaining how to take care of her. I blushed, but I still followed his instructions and soothed her the way he described. Natalie, who had been making a scene, miraculously quieted down. But just as I was about to call my friend and thank him, Natalie suddenly hugged me from behind. Heartbroken, she whispered, "Ashton Hawke, you're the one I wanted to marry." As she said it, the tattoo near her heart slipped into view: a hawk with its wings spread wide. My mind went blank. Ashton Hawke was my best friend of

"Y-Yeah... why?" "Maybe there are clues in the notes. Is it still with you?" "I threw it away," she said, then switched the T.V. channel. She doesn't like late night shows anymore. More dramas and nonsense shows. "Oh," her friend said regretfully. "Keep the notes next time. You know... maybe one of these days he might introduce himself in a note." "His name is Third. That's always on the note, eh." "So, do you know anyone who has the same name?"

He got up quickly and brought Joe over. As they approached the room with the closed door, they heard the woman cursing. Slim Three frowned. Fourth was not done yet? He could not help it. He pushed the door open, and everyone saw Fourth stepping on the little girl's back with a wooden stick in his hand. He was about to smash it down. “Stop it!” Before Slim Three could react, Joe yelled. Fourth immediately stopped his movements. When he looked back and saw Joe, a flash of annoyance appeared in the corner of his eyes, but he stopped his movements regardless.

We have it caught in a triangle between us. The hamram angrily bites at the twirling staffs, while its eyes try to find a point on which to focus. Marta stops her twirling, turning slightly sideways and it is clear to see that the wolf instantly zooms in on that escape route, throwing itself forward. When the animal is within reach, Marta swings her staff, striking it on the shoulder, making it fly back in the middle of the triangle. “Only one hit”. Marta calls out to Gudrun. “The next one is for Sol”.

**Third person** Valerie stepped up to the foul line, her eyes fixed on the pins as she positioned her bowling ball. She took a deep breath, swung her arm back, and released the ball. It soared down the lane, hitting the pocket with a satisfying crash. Matt watched, impressed, as Valerie high-fived herself. "Not bad,” he hummed, trying to play down her victory. Valerie grinned, walking back to their lane's seating area. "Not bad? That was a killer shot right there,” she corrected.

he spat, regaining his footing and charging at me once more. I smirked, my confidence fueled by the surge of adrenaline. “Maybe not alone, but you're about to find out what a beta werewolf can do!” The third man, a cunning glint in his eyes, circled, attempting to catch me off guard. He feigned a punch to my abdomen, but I sidestepped his attack, seizing his wrist in a vice-like grip. “Where is she, you scum?" I demanded, my grip tightening as I twisted his arm.

For now. Third of three. The catalyst. The completer. For tonight at least, I’ll play my part, open myself to whatever the connection between the three of us brings. For her. Whether he’s capable of doing the same remains to be seen. No time like the present to find out, I suppose. Summit rumbles his agreement, promising to rein in his rivalry with Storm for Nova's attention, promising nothing beyond tonight. What more can I ask from him? Third of three. The designation follows me into the clearing, into the ritual circle, though I do my best to hide the fear of the unknown I can’t help but feel. What makes us First, Second, and Third of three? And am I going to like the answer?