True Grit Audiobook Novels & Stories

“You may not have considered that, despite their own immense suffering, they have never given up on you. No matter how difficult things get, they grit their teeth and work hard to earn money for your treatment.” Upon hearing this, Nelson's expression wavered slightly, his brows furrowing as he seemed to grapple with his inner turmoil. I could tell I had struck a nerve. However, he stubbornly redirected the conversation, sulking like a child as he murmured, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

CHAPTER 17 Engaging The Citizen, Not the Wolf POV: Elara It was snowing. I spent the whole morning watching the snow drift past the glass. Each flake was a tiny reminder of how much I hated the cold. It was quiet here, too quiet, no psychic thrum of the Crescent Pack’s collective anxiety vibrating in my teeth. I lay there lifeless, felt like a ghost haunting my own ribcage.

Tsk. Charlotte pursed her lips. What a grumpy guy! She tried to greet him kindly, but he didn't have a single good word to say. She was extremely tired and couldn't be bothered with him. She waved her hand and headed to her little nook. Once she closed the door, the facade that Griffith had forcibly held together finally crumbled. He shut his eyes tightly, standing in place for a long time, waiting for the dizziness to subside significantly before daring to go to his bedroom. Collapsing onto the bed, he picked up the hearing aid but didn't put it on.

"I’ll admit, Graham, you’ve got grit. But grit doesn’t win battles, and it certainly won’t save you." Graham spat blood onto the dirt, his defiance shining through the pain. "I’ve fought worse than you." Alex laughed softly, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Graham's spine. "You think so? Tell me, how did those fights end for you? Because this one ends with you on the ground, bleeding out." Graham tightened his fists, his sharp claws digging into his palms. He was exhausted, his body screaming at him to rest, but his mind was resolute. "You talk too much," he said, his voice low and firm.

He looked up at me, his tears and snot mixing together on his face in a disgusting way. "I was wrong! I shouldn't have falsely accused you on the live stream! I'm worse than an animal!" He kept smacking himself in the face as he spoke. "But I've already gotten what I deserved. I can't find a job anywhere, I've spent all my money, I can't afford rent anymore, and I'm living like a rat on the streets! "Gavin, please help me! You were my mentor for years, and we used to work together for such a long time too! Please help me, I'm begging you!"

Whatever that thing was, but how were they connected? My visions of Grisha were painful, they were draining, and they were chilling. But my vision of the burning bird was calm, peaceful, and utterly soul-fetching. But why did it scream Grisha? Because I heard it, I heard it loud and clear and I knew it screamed Grisha! What in the hell was Grisha and what did it have to do with the burning bird? For an umpteenth time ever since I set my foot in Varagrafena, I laid awake at night, filled with nothing but questions, and more confusion!

Slowly, word by word, I laid out everything I had endured over the years. Like the bedroom I had been pushed out of, the broken desk lamp, the forced dropout from school, the endless days and nights of factory labor, their constant beatings and humiliation toward me, and their unconditional indulgence toward Mia. My voice wasn't loud, but it cut cleanly through the room, like a blade opening a wound that had festered for years. It exposed the rot in this family to every camera, every witness watching in real time. When I finished, the living room was dead silent. Every reporter looked at me with a mix of shock, sympathy, and anger.