Vow Notebook นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"Not necessarily. Time to name it a day." Speaking together along with her regular poker face, Anna extracted an e-book from the pile and confirmed it to Raven. "Dark Notebook -- The Occult Research Club's Activity Report --" The cowl had the ones phrases written in shiny crimson towards a pitch black background -- glaringly as specific from usual cultural golf equipment as night time from the day.

What was inside it is ours. I opened my eyes. I looked at the notebooks. Twenty notebooks. Forty years of planning. Twenty years of operational notes. The most detailed campaign log a coven had produced in the recorded history of pack practitioners. It was all real. The container was real. What was inside it was also real.

“And I’ve got a chicken in the oven, and rice cooking as well.” “That’s… amazing, Nathan,” I said, walking over and peering into the oven to see a glistening chicken sitting on the rack, surrounded by vegetables. I furrowed my brow and looked up at Nathan with surprise on my face. “But why do all of this? You don’t have to go all out like that.” “I know, I know,” Nathan replied, wiping his hands on his apron. “But, check this out.” He paused, pulling out a cookbook from the drawer. It was titled ‘100 Recipes for Expecting Mothers’ and had an illustration of a pregnant woman on the front.

insistent? I took a slow sip of my whiskey, the burn soothing the tension gnawing at my gut. Every interaction with her felt like a delicate balance between pushing her away and pulling her closer. The frustration was almost unbearable. I had her, but she wasn’t mine—not in the way I needed her to be. Yet, I could feel it—the way she was slowly unraveling. The walls she built so fiercely around herself were beginning to show cracks. I could see it in her eyes every time she looked at me. She hated me, but the heat between us, the undeniable pull that bound us together, was growing stronger with every passing day.

Nikolai Volkov The low hum of the fireplace was the only sound accompanying the silence in my office. The thick walls of the penthouse filtered out the distant noise of Los Angeles. Outside, the city was alive. Inside, I was a storm waiting to break. The amber glow of the desk lamp cast shadows on the mahogany as I flipped through the recent reports. Arms shipments. Movement of rival factions. Port schedules. Nothing out of the ordinary until the name appeared. Viktor Natov.

Not long after I left Dawson Corporation, Shane Dawson sent me an address and a photo of our wedding venue: a Spanish castle named Castillo de Sol. The picture showed the castle’s facade consisting of ivory limestone walls and a blazing golden dome, luxury carved into every line. Right in the center of the shot stood Tania Collins, her curls tumbling over her shoulders, a crimson gown hugging her figure. My fingers hovered over her radiant smile for two long seconds. The absurdity sank in like ice.

Tatum’s POV Silence. Not the ordinary kind—the kind that lingers politely between casual conversations. No. This silence was heavy. Suffocating. It pressed against my chest, crawled under my skin, and settled deep in my bones like a living thing. Ten percent. Of the Voss Group.

Connor returned to the villa. Camille walked up to him with a smile–but froze when she saw the coldness in his eyes. "Connor, what's wrong? Did Sienna upset you again? "You're already divorced. Don't be angry with her anymore. Connor… when are we setting our wedding date? I couldn't sleep last night just thinking about finally becoming your wife." Connor's voice was cold. "Didn't you say you didn't care about a title? That as long as you were with me, it was enough?"

Three weeks later... "Come on, bella." I squeeze another ribbon of purée onto the lip of the pouch and lower it toward the floor. "You know nobody else would do this for you. You think Nico gets on his knees for anyone? Marco? He would have called Valeria three days ago and considered his conscience clean. This is me, Mina. Specifically me. You should be grateful." _*]:min-w-0 gap-3 !gap-3.5">

I add her name to the third notebook, under a new section I have been building since the registry began: people who are already doing the work. The list is longer than I expected when I started it. It gets longer every week.