Tungod Sa Timaan Sa Santa Cruz นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Bilang isang taong walang kamag-anak, walang mapagkakakitaan at tunay na banyaga sa lugar na ito kaya sino ba siya para tumanggi diba? “Saan kita maaring puntahan kung gusto ko man ng trabaho?” tanong ni Euphie sakaniya kaagad. “Sa may Santa Cruz. Ilang lakad paglagpas mo sa may Plaza Goiti, makikita mo ang isang gusaling may nakapaskil na 'Femme Fatale' sa labas.” Pagtuturo ni Esperanza sakaniya. Napataas bigla ang kilay nito't napatingin kay Euphie. “Sandali, Hindi ba nanggaling ka na dun?”

Pula HINDI ko na mabilang kung ilang araw at gabi ko nang nakakapiling ang mga matatayog na sanga at damong aking hinihigaan at inuupuan, mga basang lupa at putik na tila nagiging parte na ng aming mga hapong mga katawan. Nagiging bahagi kami ng mundong itong na nasa kasulok-sulukan ng kagubatan at sa nakalululang tuktok ng kabundukan ng Sierra Madre na minsan ng naging alamat sa mga kwento ng kakamanghang pagkilala rito. Isang mahabang kabundukang nilikha umano ng mga kakaibang elemento at pinamamahayan ito ng mga kakila-kilabot na mga nilalang na siyang naghahari harian umano ng mahabang panahon at sa aming kaisipa'y sumasabit dito ang pagkamangha sa lugar na yaon. Naging panang-galang an

Stefan and I follow, keeping an eye out for danger and carrying the scented towel. We spend the morning following Martell’s scent, and soon we’re at the base of the mountain, where the trees thin out and there are more well paved pathways through the woods. Some of them are roads wide enough for cars and trucks to drive on. “We’re well away from Sterling’s tree house,” Stefan says. “But you know what we are getting close to,” Piper tells us, shifting back into human form and walking decisively in one direction, “is the Santa Cruz pack house.”

Below them, BludHeaven resumed its careful, bookish breathing—a little more wary, a little more alive for having survived the strain. Celeste looked at Remy and let a tired grin break across her face. “Santa Cruz for breakfast again,” she said. He laughed softly. “Again.” They moved down from the terrace into the crowded courtyard, steady and human and more than a little dangerous in the best possible way.

None were needed. The drive was long, two hours of winding mountain roads and silent calculation. Lucien spent it reviewing every piece of intelligence they had on Santiago. Every known ally. Every rumored weakness. The de la Cruz estate was a relic, built into the cliffs of San Marcos. High walls of crumbling stone, iron gates older than most of the men who stood guarding them. But behind those gates, Santiago still lived like a king. Or so he liked to believe. As they approached, the front gates groaned open. No welcoming committee. No soldiers in formation. Just open iron jaws and the air of old resentment.

I reply loud and run to my room upstairs giggling. I open the letter once I am in. “Dear Olive, Hope this letter brings smile on your face! I feel happy to see your smiling face and I will always protect your happiness. I got your lovely letter and the painting and I shall wait for more letters from you. I have a gift for you. Look in your letter box tonight. I hope you like it! Will always love my beautiful Olive! Yours Santa ----------------------- “What are you doing?” Shocked hearing the voice I open my mouth while still inside the water and struggle before coming out of it. I huff and gasp for air. I rub the water from my face with my palm and there he stands.

Luca came last — the shadows behind the storm. The club pulsed with crimson light and low bads. Smoke curled in elegant spirals through the air. At the far end of the lounge, a tall man stood with crystal tumbler in his hand, his face lit by a slow, mocking grin. Santiago Cruz. Amara didn't blink. She walked straight to him. “Did you miss me?” She said flatly. He took a slow sip, eyes dragging down her form like a predator sizing up his kill. “I missed your mother,” he said.