Torn Photo Isaac Novels & Stories

His face went deathly pale. "Keep watching." I signaled Alex to change the image. The wall filled with photos of Isabella's rendezvous with different men. Making out on the Matteo's second son's yacht one moment, drinking with a Russian gang leader the next. The council chamber fell dead silent.

I'm mentally angry at him for scaring me again. "Hi, Tasha," Isaac says with a broad smile. He walks up to me, kisses me on the cheek, and makes me blush instantly. Isaac is twelve and the most popular student at Webbs. Once, Principal Butler called in the parents of Corina Summers and her friend Yolanda because they almost fought over him during recess. It's no surprise; Isaac looks like a popular singer. He has blue eyes and blond hair that is always styled fashionably. Even though he and Jaden are the same age, Isaac is much broader-shouldered and looks older. “Who's this with you, Tasha?” Isaac's voice takes on an insinuating tone as he turns his attention to my companion. "What kind of

Imagine my surprise when I heard that Cassian was killed finally, potentially by Lucian. I was shocked but also excited about the news, the news meant that we were getting closer to our victory, it meant that my Lucian would soon be the Alpha and I will be his Luna. I was so excited and was about to show up at the front of Lucian's penthouse for a celebratory shag. I had planned everything out, I had gotten the perfect lingerie and everything but then that photo from my best friend Stacy popped into my phone. It was Lucian in the car with a lady whose face was hidden by the angle at which the photo was taken. They were staying too close…way too close, the pit in my stomach morphed into a bli

She froze. “They’ve been through it,” she muttered. The man joined her, scanning the mess. “Then we have a problem.” I could barely make out his face in the faint light. But there was something about the shape of his jaw, the voice — it was familiar. Too familiar. Sebastian shifted slightly, enough for his phone’s glow to faintly illuminate his hand. He tapped the screen twice — recording. The man noticed the disturbed table and knelt, picking up the photograph I had dropped earlier — the one with me standing beside the crash.

Even X-men only had one power each, but I seem to be Thanos right now collecting them like infinity stones. “I’m not some super wolf just because I was turned and not born,” I conclude. “I guess we’re going to find out,” Star adds as Noah walks in. “Ready?” I turn around and see he’s in a track suit now with the hoodie unzipped. No. Fucking. Shirt. Underneath. “I think you’re forgetting something,” I tell him as I turn around and look at the floor for my hair brush. “And what would that be?” He teases. I just shake my head, I’m not taking the bait. I’m not flirting. I need to refocus on why I’m here and it’ll be easier now that I’m not in heat anymore.. right? I hear him zip up his sweater a

"Let it slide? Mister I'm the one who should let it slide, if you didn't say something stupid, I wouldn't have bothered to reply you. Honestly lady, I do not know what you see in this man." Eric didn't know whether to laugh or cry, how in God's name did Elsa ever meet a lad like him This boy sure was trouble, he felt like pumping some beating into him, that would teach him a lesson perhaps. Just when he was about to pounce on the lad who was oblivious to the threat coming his way, Elsa pulled him by his hand. "Let it go, Eric. You're been taunted by a child. Please forgive him." She spoke to him while trying to hide her laughter, but there were traces of a smile in her eyes and he couldn't

Isaac found the drawer a few minutes later, hidden along the base of the pedestal, sealed shut until the obsidian disc slid free from its depression and released some final, waiting mechanism. Inside were three things. A brass map cylinder, dulled with age. A folded note, in Jonathan's unmistakable hand. And a photograph. Elara lifted the photograph first, careful, as though it might crumble in her hands. Four faces looked back at her. Isabella. Damien. Jonathan, younger, with the same careful eyes he'd have for the rest of his life. And a fourth person, standing just slightly apart from the others. Scratched out. Not faded. Not damaged by time or damp. Deliberately, violently scratched away

I spinned around immediately, screaming and punching the man in front of me in the process. “Shit!” The man groaned in pain, his hands on his lips. He wore nothing but black pants, and he had hard abs too. It was the lonely customer. “I'm so sorry.” I apologized, going towards him as I tried to check out his bleeding lips. The cut on his lip displayed his dark red blood. Most of the blood I've seen were disgusting to me but his was different, it looked sexy, with the way it stripped down to his bottom pinkish lips.

My suite. I leaned against the cool wall inside the room, closing my eyes. That walk helped a little. But the moment I shut my eyes, images came rushing back. Isabella. Eva. That damned photo of me and Jasmine. The one that wasn’t even real, but looked damning. Who edited it? Who sent it out? I didn’t know anymore. Everything was spiraling. I rubbed my face and sank onto the couch, letting the island silence wrap around me. I tried not to think about her. But it never worked.

Her mind raced, searching for a memory, a connection— The door suddenly swung open. Marcus stepped inside, his usual smirk fading the moment he saw her holding the picture. His eyes darkened. “What the hell are you doing?” Startled, Isabelle let the photo slip from her fingers. Marcus strode forward, snatching it off the ground before she could react. His grip on the paper was tight, knuckles white. “I—” she started, still processing his reaction. “It fell out of the file. I wasn’t—”