Novel & Cerita Vash The Stampede Glasses

Pain shot through me as Christabel, our maid tried to remove the piece of glass stuck in my palm. Tears flowed down my cheek as I gasped for air. I placed my second palm on my face. The thought of something bad happening to Fabio ran across my mind. Knew it won't be easy and that I would suffer more in Lorenzo's hands. Not when Viola and the rest are angry at me.

It wasn't what they agreed on. Vadim looked over his shoulder, and his gaze caught Silas, he tilted his head and Silas stepped toward him. Vadim whistled and Aiden looked at the entrance. Seconds later, twenty vampires armed with blades, axes, and daggers stormed in. “Not again!” Aiden complained.

That makes it worse. ‘She’s on our side, Wren.’ Snorting, Wren shook out his fur. ‘A witch isn’t on anyone’s side but their own. Do not let them deceive you, or you will pay the price.’ Rolling my eyes, I moved my backpack and set it down on a nearby rock. Pulling out a water bottle, I tossed it to her. She took it and drank as if she hadn’t had water in days. Next, I took out the glasses that were in a special wooden case. Taking them out, I put the delicate-feeling glasses on my nose.

Being jealous of a being who can have total power over me…I wouldn’t be that stupid. “Not as much as you. I didn’t follow her like a puppy dog around the castle. You did. I can handle it. In the meantime, do everything in your power to stay away from her.” “I will. Trust me.” “Great, now say, fetch Max.” “Fetch Max,” I repeated. At this max zoomed out of my room and reappeared like no time had passed “Take this.” Max handed me a glittering purple vile. “What is it?” I asked.

I whispered up to Lazaro, who glanced down at me with a glint in his eyes. “Maybe all three?” He responded, cocking a brow. We were handed two glittery masks at the door, and as we made our entrance, Lazaro grabbed up two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and handed me one. “Drink slowly,” he ordered in a quiet voice, his eyes caressing my face, and I nodded, taking the glass from him, and as the evening proceeded, he kept his hand on my arm, pulling me close to him, possessively too.

The "Iron Silence" that followed the "Syndicate Siege" was a "Null State" of false security. Inside the "Master-Vault," the "Acoustic Noise" of the "Orbital Bombardment" had faded, leaving only the "Low-Frequency" hum of the obsidian servers. Ethan Hawke stood in the "Command-Link," his "Strong Frame" still radiating the "Kinetic" heat of the battle on the ridge. His "Piercing Blue Eyes" weren't fixed on the "Gilded" screens of the "Dead-Zone" map; they were fixed on Elena Vance.

The scene changed again. We were in the suite in the villa. He heard me pounding on the door with all my strength, screaming for help until my voice broke. He clutched his head, shaking. "No… That's not how it was… I didn't…" The scene shifted once more. It was the night before the final exams. Wendy came to me with red, tearful eyes, begging me to help her cheat. I refused without hesitation, and then, everything unfolded, from how she found those thugs, how she staged it all, how she framed me step by step.

The glass didn’t shatter with a spectacular ring; it gave way with a dull, wet pop that felt horribly final. The heavy gold band of the Vane crest ring drove straight through the amber interface, the sharp edges of the crystalline display splintering beneath the raw force of my downswing. A violent cascade of blue sparks erupted from the ruined console, casting frantic, erratic shadows across the cedar-paneled walls of the library before the entire dashboard died, plunging the rear of the room into a deep, heavy dark.

Before the shards of heavy glass had even finished raining down onto the hardwood floor, three flashbangs detonated in a blinding, overlapping strobe of white light and deafening concussive force. Grace was thrown backward by the sheer atmospheric pressure, her hands flying to her ears as a high-pitched, agonizing whine filled her skull. Her vision fractured into jagged, overexposed shapes. Through the smoke and the strobe, she saw dark, tactical silhouettes pouring through the shattered frame, their carbines raised with terrifying precision. Arthur Vance didn't even have time to scream. Within two seconds, he was slammed onto his stomach, his face pressed into the shards of glass, his arms

On the right monitor, a flashing red warning box displayed the progress of the hostile print leak Chloe was trying to deploy against his firm. A soft click echoed in the dark as the penthouse door unlocked. Vance Sterling walked inside, his heavy leather dress shoes stepping softly across the plush gray carpet. He had taken off his suit jacket, and his white shirt sleeves were unbuttoned at the wrists. He carried a leather-bound folder under his arm, his dark, intensely possessive eyes instantly scanning the scrolling media tracks on Noah's screen.