The Third Wheel Strikes Back Novels & Stories

They’re not here to kill me. They’re here to play. I swallow hard and force myself to stand tall. “Stay back,” I warn, voice steady despite the tremor in my limbs. “I’ll fight.” They laugh. The third rogue—a massive brute with a scar down his cheek—lunges first. I try to dodge, but he’s too fast. His hand closes around my wrist, twisting it painfully. I yelp, kicking at his legs, but another rogue grips my other arm, yanking me back.

she greeted Lora. “Hey! What a nice Saturday morning to hear from you,” Lora said on the other line. “Ah. I decided to just scrap the idea of the new ending of the third book,” Cela said straightforwardly. “But why? What happened?” Lora asked in disbelief. “Nothing. I mean, it’s been due and I’ve not come up with anything better than the original ending,” Cela explained. “Is that final?” Lora asked. “Yes, it is. Sorry, Lora. And please tell the other producers and whoever is involved in the production that I am sorry for wasting their time waiting for nothing. I’ll apologize to them personally when we do the viewing,” Cela said.

“Already on it, sir. I’ll push IT, Security, and Legal. I’ll also have PR ready on standby controlled statement only if necessary.” Thirdie watched the city through the glass. The warm morning he’d felt before the quiet, private thing with Kathalina stayed with him in a small way. It gave him a steadiness that was useful now: he could be both soft where it mattered and ruthless where he had to be. He did not regret waiting. He had fixed things in silence before, planning for the moment to step in with full force. Now he had a reason to cut deeper than profit: he would protect what mattered. He would not let someone take that from him.

I walked backwards, still in a daze. But I didn't realize I was already backing into a trolley. My body hit it and the hallway got filled with the unsweet harmony of falling trays and cutleries. “Shit,” I winced. Bradley's head jerked to the door. “Who's there?!”

A faint exhale. Not quite a laugh. Not quite anything. “On three?” she asks. I glance back. Voices behind us now too. Closer. Seconds. “We don’t have three.” I strike the panel. Once. Nothing. Again. A crack. Louder. The voices stop. “They’re above us!” Too late. Third strike— the panel gives. Metal bends inward just enough. Light bleeds through. Weak. Flickering. But there. “Go,” I say.

I stepped toward him, anger boiling over. However, before I could get close, Nancy blocked my path. "Joshua, are you done making a scene? If you're not, you can keep going, but we're leaving." She yanked off her black mourning dress and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. As Gilbert walked past, he deliberately stepped on it, then glanced back at me, his eyes full of open provocation. My whole body trembled. The next second, I lunged forward and drove my fist straight into his face.

A third time, every strike fueled by a thirst for revenge, and the urge to totally obliterate him. He tried to counter my strikes by swinging back wildly, but I just ducked under it, my knuckles raking across his ribs in a sharp hook that sends him crashing to the ground. I followed it up with a kick to his head, the loud sound of his skull cracking against the concrete exhilarating. Damn, I needed this. I blew out a breath, my chest heaving as I watched him try to crawl away from me, his blood dripping all over his face. He looked pathetic.

I step forward, inside his guard. My shoulder slams into his chest, cutting off his breath in a wet gasp. At the same second, my right hand drives upward, the heel of my palm striking the bottom of his chin. His teeth click together with a sickening crunch. His head snaps back, and his body hits the tarmac-coloured floorboards like a sack of wet coal. The knife clatters away, rolling under a stool. The third wolf hesitates. His boots twitch backward toward the exit. "Don't run," I tell him.

“This is the Five Strikes of Lightning?” Harvey was speechless. He confirmed once again that Third Master Yates… Was indeed an idiot. Third Master Yates was stunned when he saw Harvey’s perplexed face. He screamed, “Impossible! You’d at least be heavily injured if you were hit by all Five Strikes of Lightning!” “I’ll give you another!” “Take this!” Harvey let out a sigh, then raised his right hand and swung it. Slap! His slap sent Third Master Yates’ face crashing to the ground, spinning constantly.

"I am not arguing about this. We stay together. We fight together. That is the rule." Neal put his hand on Noah's shoulder. "She is right. Splitting up is what they want. We are stronger as a triad." Noah was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. "Together." "Together," Neal said. "Together," I said. The third strike came. The ward cracked. Silver light bled into the air like blood from a wound. Maya smiled. "The walls are falling, crucible. Come out now, and I will be gentle."