Torre Stark Novels & Stories

Stan assured. There's one thing I know about Stark, and that was the fact that he wouldn't dare to make problems on a very important occasion such as this. I waited patiently for Stark and Alan, who cake all the way to where I sat. I signaled for an extra seat to be provided for both mortal enemies of mine. Not only that, I saw another man among then, especially next Stark. Though I've not met him before, from the pictures shown to me while I was investigating Stark, it turns out that he was Alpha Tristan.

"I have a bullet hole in my chest. That's a pretty convincing prop." "He has the people scared," Stark said. "He says he will restore order. He says he will open the vaults and distribute the gold." "He can't open the vaults," I said. "He doesn't have the key." "He has enough firepower to blast the doors open," Stark countered. "And he has an ultimatum." I leaned forward. "Let's hear it." "Surrender by sunset," Stark said. "Or he opens fire on the city. He says he will shell the castle."

I didn’t know which of them was my real fated mate. Suddenly, the door slammed open. Cassandra stood there with two of her wolves behind her. Her eyes were full of hate. “I knew you were hiding a secret,” she snarled, hissing repeatedly. “You and your evil secrets.” Scarlett stepped in front of me, frowning at Cassandra. “Leave my daughter alone, you devilish woman!” Cassandra laughed and flew fast toward my mom, her claws hitting straight on my mother’s arm. “I want to make sure she dies. She is the devil here!”

They preferred to live in a place that reminded them of their humble beginnings rather than the luxurious lifestyle my money could afford. My mother, Charlotte Starkov, is a gardener, which explains the huge garden located at the back of their home. I think the garden is bigger than the house itself. Meanwhile, my dad, Pedro Starkov, is a retired military officer from Russia. He is actually half Russian and half Italian. I walked into the living room where my parents sat, engaged in a conversation with Astrid. I don’t know what made me, but I stood rooted by the door, my eyes locked on one person only.

T) in his famous monologue said and I quote; "What is a villain without his villainous tales? Or an antagonist without his antithesis? For to see a villain is to see a poet Before his last act of mischief to serve in a tray His evil masterminded plans to relay To the awe of the captured protagonist As he bemoans his clouded perception by the evil mist Have you ever heard of "good mastermind" before? For long have we been margi..." Unfortunately, he was shot three times in the head with a "Stormbreaker M14" by an U.N.N agent(not to be mistaken for a tertiary institution in Nigeria, click 70765 times for disambiguation), Agent Stark before he could finish his monologue. Our condolences go to t

They’d slotted into our small-town world as easily as if they’d always been here, and I was glad they’d stayed. This was partly (and only partly) because they were two of the most normal hunters I knew. For instance, there was Torre, stood opposite me. She was the oldest hunter among us, with shrivelled brown skin and cataracts, but she swore she could take on anything that came her way – and in heels, too, if she happened to be wearing them. She slept with her hair in curlers, and once she’d staked a vampire through the heart with them in, complete with slippers on her feet and a dressing gown tossed across her shoulders.

Upon seeing him in person today, she came to realize that none of those young masters from well-off families in Bradfort City could ever come close to this man. Moreover, seeing that Tony was well-respected even amongst the older generation of corporate bigshots was enough for her to fall in love with him. She quickly chimed in and said, “Dad, Miss Stark is a designer for Hart Group now; naturally, she has to respect her boss. Isn’t it the same for you in our family business?”

"You know so much about me. But I barely know anything about you. Tell me something real." Stark is quiet for a moment. He picks up a stone and turns it over in his hands. "I'm alone a lot," he finally says. "More than I let on. My family... they don't really understand me. They think I'm weak for not fitting in with what I'm supposed to be." "What are you supposed to be?" I ask carefully. "Strong. Ruthless. Good at hunting and killing and all the things that make a..." He stops himself. "Let's just say I'm supposed to be a lot of things I'm not."

After the war between Rogues and Lycans, Stark decided to lived as a normal person. He build an empire of his own. Even mortals didn't recognize that they were only wearing a human skin at day but shifted into a Lycan wolf at night anytime they want. He's one of the richest Lycan king in the whole city of New Jersey. The Stark Real Estate were built ten years ago and still reining in the whole real estate companies. Gerald Itopia was his son to a mortal woman who was Arcela Cortez. She's still in a vacation in Korea. She loved to visit every countries and took some pictures of beautiful buildings. Stark didn't mind her because she's as stubborn like her son.

“Come back soon, okay?” “Okay,” she hung up then. “I’m going to town. Am I needed for anything?” I asked Mr Stark when he walked in. My eyes were glued to the tattoos littered all over his upper body. His left sleeve looked like a forest scenery of some sort. Right at the back, he had numbers, a date, with a tiny baby handprint. I wondered what they meant. “You can go,” he said his back to me. ***** | Emmanuel Stark |