The War Of Lost Hearts นิยาย & เรื่องราว

We weren’t just fighting Lilith and Baron anymore. We were losing. And losing this war meant losing everything.

This was no longer just a one-night thing. This was a war. And I was already losing.

The silence was deafening. It eroded deep to the bone with the wind harsh, cold and bruising. My head was cast down, the tears rolling down no matter how hard I wiped them away. “ I, king Conri left this pack months back with your bothers, your mates, your sons, your uncles and cousins. We went to the war zone where we fought against vampires and werewolf rogues. It is with much sadness and a bleeding heart that I stand before you all to state that over twenty thousand warriors have died in this fight. We were able to retrieve the bodies of eight thousand men with the rest left in the war zone with no way for us to retrieve them. I am deeply sorry for all your losses. I don’t know the pain y

It was the brutal, loving math of a soldier who had finally found something worth dying for, and was now being asked to prove it by leaving, or by orchestrating a secret, solitary war. The fear in his chest didn’t uncoil. It crystallized into a cold, diamond-hard resolve. The call had changed everything. The fragile peace of the glass office was over. The war was no longer about companies or prototypes. It was a duel for Anton Rogers’ soul. And Sabatine, the ghost, the anchor, the lover, would fight it in the shadows, where he was born, even if it meant walking those shadows alone. —-

They were the lost souls of the forest, trapped in this realm and controlled by a dark force. Russe and Reina fought with all their might, their eyes glinting in the strange light of the ethereal forest. They could feel the power of the dark force pushing against them, but they refused to back down. Finally, the last of the lost souls fell to the ground, defeated. Adelia ran towards them, tears streaming down her face. “You came for me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Russe wrapped her in a tight embrace, feeling the weight of her small form against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat, so frail and delicate, but still beating nonetheless.

They were a team, a new kind of a war. The final act of their story had begun, and the choice was theirs to make. The global cartel, a new, more dangerous enemy, was a force of nature, a new kind of power, a new kind of a threat. They were a force of nature, a new kind of a war. A war for the heart, a war for the soul, a war for a love so profound it was terrifying. The unfinished business was a brutal, beautiful, and devastating reality. The love, the pain, the unresolved passion – it was all there, a constant, terrifying presence in their lives. The new partnership, a new kind of power, a new kind of a threat, was a single, unstoppable force. The last war had begun. And the world would fee

Gold. Red. Beautiful. Terrible. My vision blurred immediately. Tears rolled freely down my cheeks. I did not bother wiping them away. The heat from the flames touched my skin. Yet all I felt was cold. Back in Oakwood, peace had lasted generations. Wars were stories. Legends. Distant memories. I had never truly understood loss. Never understood what war stole. Now I knew. War stole fathers. Mothers. Friends. Servants. Dreams. Laughter.

As we neared it, the words from her premonition came to me. “What you hold close to the heart will not survive. For war is a field of no rules and morality, something you know of. But the last cards are in place as you have not changed the course of your path. In war, there are no rules but one unspoken yet agreed upon. Attack the heart. And what does an immortal man hold close to his heart that he couldn’t hold before? His mate, Vivian.”

I eliminate when I have had it up to the brim. Let him enjoy his little victory lap while it lasts. Because the moment he let me hear that bass through the wall, the war had already started. The last time I checked, I don’t lose wars.

Adrian's face fell as he breathed vocally," This war. it's approaching, and we've no time for empty pledges." Flora's dying words, invested with forlornness and faint rebellion, echoed in the simulated quiet," also let the war decide — will our broken hearts heal, or will they be ever lost to the void?"