Twelve Minutes

“You smell like mine.” Lyra never believed the legends about Lycans. They said those monstrous, feral creatures with strength far beyond wolves. But when she tries to save a child from a rogue attack, her blood spills on sacred soil… and her hidden bloodline awakens. Miles away, Ares Nightbane, the terrifying Lycan King, turns feral when her scent hits him like a drug. Her pain drags him across kingdoms in minutes. Her fear breaks what little sanity he has left. He finds her bleeding. Shaking. Dying. And the moment his eyes meet hers, the ruthless king loses absolute control. He pins her to the ground with a growl, breath hot on her throat. Not to kill her. Not to save her. But because the bond, the one he swore to destroy has chosen her. “Run if you want,” Ares snarls, lips brushing her ear. “I’ll chase. I’ll devour. I’ll claim every inch of you until the moon rises in your eyes. You are mine, little wolf. Mine to protect. Mine to ruin.” Lyra is poor, brave, and stubborn enough to defy a king. But resisting the Lycan who can cross kingdoms in minutes? The king whose madness is soothed only by her scent? The king who would tear apart the world to keep her? She might survive the monsters outside the palace but surviving the one obsessed with her? That may be impossible.

Right after I am done with a meeting, I scroll through social media and come across a warning post with my company's location tagged. The title reads, "Avoid this place! Anyone who comes here is a sucker. The company is so stingy that it can't even provide decent snacks." The photos show the Starbucks drinks and five-star desserts I just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frown and tag everyone in the group chat, asking for suggestions about the teatime snacks. A Gen Z intern, Alice Grimes, immediately sends a voice message, "No offense, Ms. Knox, but these mass-produced desserts are full of trans fats. Even dogs wouldn't eat them. A good company would hire Kitchelin chefs to cook on-site. Now that's called having true respect for employees." I laugh in disbelief. My company spends 50 dollars per person on daily tea time, which is considered top-tier in the industry. So, I reply, "Since it's hard to please everyone, we'll cancel teatime from now on and convert it into a cash allowance for everyone." Less than five minutes later, there is a new update in the social media post. "Guys, you won't believe this. I made a reasonable suggestion, and the petty boss just cut our teatime perk! This is how a typical capitalist behaves. They can't handle any honest feedback."

Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."

Right after finishing a meeting, I opened a forum and saw a warning post. The location tag was our company. The title read: “Red flag! What a cheap company. Anyone who joins is a total sucker. They can’t even afford a decent coffee break.” The photo attached showed the expensive coffee and five-star desserts I had just asked my assistant to distribute to everyone. I frowned and tagged the entire group chat, asking if anyone had suggestions about the afternoon tea. A Gen-Z intern who had just joined, Julian Hayes, instantly replied with a voice message: “Boss, no offense, but these assembly-line desserts are full of trans fats. Nobody would eat them.” “A truly humane company hires a Michelin chef to cook and slice everything fresh on site. That’s what real respect for employees looks like.” I laughed in disbelief. Our company’s daily coffee break budget was thirty dollars per person—already considered top-tier in the industry. So I replied, “Since it’s impossible to satisfy everyone’s taste, we’ll cancel afternoon tea from now on and convert the budget into cash for everyone instead.” Less than five minutes later, that post was updated: “Guys, can you believe this? I made a perfectly reasonable suggestion and the lame boss immediately canceled the whole coffee break perk! This is the true face of corporate greed—can’t handle even a little bit of honesty!”

My mother-in-law was rushed to the hospital with sudden chest pain and sent straight into emergency surgery. However, my wife, who was the head of the thoracic department, insisted that her clueless young male apprentice be the lead surgeon instead. The apprentice stood in front of the operating table. He couldn’t even recognize half of the surgical instruments laid out before him. He pouted and fidgeted a little. “I forgot again…” My wife just smiled indulgently at him. Even though the patient’s chest had been opened, she patiently spent ten minutes explaining the instruments to him before the surgery finally began. In the end, the apprentice’s hand trembled, and he accidentally punctured the tumor. Terrified, he let out a sharp scream and threw himself into my wife’s arms. To console him, my mother-in-law’s only chance at survival was gone, and she died right there on the operating table. My wife walked out of the operating room, supporting her badly shaken apprentice, and glanced at me indifferently. “Before you take your mother’s body away, provide an affidavit of non-prosecution to the hospital. Your mom couldn’t have been saved anyway. Anthony is still young. His future can’t be ruined because of your mother.” Only then did I realize that she thought the person lying on that operating table was my mother. I chuckled and said, “I'm afraid I'm not qualified to do that.”

"I love you, Nate." My head was bent and I was staring at my feet, nervous like a child who had done something wrong and was waiting to be scolded. The man in my embrace froze. He broke the embrace and took three steps backwards. "We are ending this relationship." I finally heard him say after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Huh,why? I thought I still have a month left?" "Why? you breached the contract, that's why." *********************** Aviva Alexander who has just turned twenty-three crossed paths with the arrogant, dominant CEO of Dove's enterprises, Nathan Lewis. Love at first sight? That's what you may call it in Ava's case. Determined, she chases the hot Nathan Lewis and Nathan who had developed feelings for her gives her the privilege of being his contracted girlfriend after she had seen him break up with Camille that night in the garage. “ I knew you were the one when I saw you at the garage” They're writing their love story but will there ever be an happy ever after when Caryn Jones is hellbent on getting her one-time lover, Nathan? “ I love you Ava, I really do. Everything about you drives me insane... Allow me love you, please. Let me love you tonight, princess.” ” There can be no happy ever after... or maybe there is. ” - Ava & Nate

What makes a hero? They say a hero is someone that has given his life to something bigger than himself. I say a hero is no braver than an ordinary man, he is just braver for five minutes longer. All soldiers are brave, it's what they do with their bravery that makes them heroes. Am I a hero? Clayton Jackson dedicated his life to serving his country. Enlisting in the Marine Corps at the young age of eighteen, he never imagined following any other path. However, fate had other plans for him as a life-altering accident during his last deployment left him disabled and forces him to return home. Hiding in the small town he grew up in, Clayton tries to keep his secret from his loved ones at all costs. One day while seeking refuge from his troubled mind, his path crosses with Isabella Jones. Their connection is instantaneous as if the universe conspired to bring them together. Isabella, a mysterious and enigmatic woman, is haunted by the demons from her own past. As their relationship quickly blossoms, the unspoken truths between them threaten to tear them apart. When Clayton is presented with the opportunity to rejoin the Marine Corps, Isabella is faced with a decision: whether to accompany him or remain behind. Caught in this web of secrets and lies, they try to navigate their love through the murky waters, desperately hoping to find solace in each other's arms. But will love be enough to conquer the shadows that lingered in their hearts? Or would the truth ultimately be their undoing?

For twelve years, Sophia Banner has worked tirelessly to keep her family's farm from foreclosure. Every payment is a small victory, until her sister, Daphne drains the money for a modeling opportunity that turns out to be a scam. Daphne isn't sorry. The bank doesn't care. And Sophia is out of time. Her solution arrives in tailored suits and effortless charm. Andrew Ashford—her witty, rich-as-hell employer, the man she delivers groceries to weekly. And… the man her sister, Daphne has been infatuated with for years. He's also the man whose eight-year-old nephew she tutors. When a medical diagnosis rattles Andrew's carefully managed life and sets his volatile family on edge, he decides appearances need fixing. What he needs is a fiancée. What he offers is one million dollars for one year. The money would save Sophia's farm outright. And the image of a diamond on her finger, of Daphne forced to watch—sharpens the temptation to a dangerous edge. Sophia agrees. She steps into Andrew's world of obscene wealth, jealous socialites, and an overbearing chaotic family that treats appearances like currency. Fake kisses are expected. Convincing smiles are mandatory. The problem is, Andrew plays his role too well—and the reasons behind this engagement begin to feel far from innocent. Because Andrew Ashford didn't choose Sophia at random. One year. One million dollars. And a lie that's starting to feel dangerously real.

"This realm is your only chance of coming back to life in the mortal world, and if you attract those consequences, take note that you will die.” “Death?” I ask, mostly to myself. And to the voice, “What do you mean by 'I’m on my way to death'?” ~~~ Nova was having a bad day, and all she wanted was for the day to end already. But the universe seemed to have misunderstood her wish, because not only did her day not end, but she met with an accident that left her in a coma. As if that wasn't bad enough, she became trapped in a dimension between life and death, where she had to face a series of trials that would determine if she wakes... or fades from existence. Enter Zephyr, the spirit assigned to guide her to the light – her recovery. The spirit who never tried to disguise his want for her failure. The spirit she should've never fallen in love with. But in a world where survival is determined by the number of challenges a soul can conquer, the heart still found its way around love. With her complicated feelings in an already complicated world, Nova must decide what she's truly fighting for – her life, or the one being who's capable of ending it. *** In a short time, the remaining one hundred and twelve souls are pushed out. When we’re complete and standing, a voice – different from on the bus – greets us. “Welcome, Souls, to the survival games.”

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor. Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate. I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées. Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine. But when the moment came, his hand turned. With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored. Then he leaned close to my ear. "Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say." I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one. "Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you." That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago. When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control. "Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"