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Après la disparition de mon esprit-loup, je suis la jumelle choisie

Après la disparition de mon esprit-loup, je suis la jumelle choisie

Pour la centième fois, mon compagnon Alpha, Ryker, avait usé de son autorité sur moi, me menaçant de rejeter notre lien si je ne me sacrifiais pas pour ma sœur jumelle, Ivy. Je n'avais ni pleuré ni protesté. J'avais simplement signé les documents de rejet du lien de compagnon. J'avais cédé l'Alpha que j'avais aimé pendant dix ans à ma sœur. Quelques jours plus tard, Ivy avait provoqué un scandale lors du banquet de l'Alliance des meutes, humiliant la fille de l'Alpha de Silvermoon. Une fois encore, je m'étais avancée pour prendre sa place, supportant la douleur d'une marque d'argent défigurante. Plus tard, lorsqu'ils avaient exigé que je teste moi-même la sécurité du rituel de régénération de l'Esprit du Loup pour ma sœur, j'avais accepté avec un sourire. Mes parents, tous deux Bêtas, les yeux rougis, m'avaient dit que je devenais enfin la grande sœur que j'étais censée être. Même Ryker, qui s'était toujours montré si distant avec moi, s'était tenu devant la cave. Il avait doucement caressé ma joue — pour la première fois depuis si longtemps — et avait murmuré d'une voix tendre : « Harper, n'aie pas peur. Dès que l'épreuve sera terminée, je t'emmènerai voir les aurores au lac de la Déesse de la Lune. » Mais il ne savait pas que, quelle que soit l'issue de l'épreuve, il ne me reverrait jamais. Mon esprit-loup était déjà en train de s'éteindre. Plus rien ne pouvait me sauver. Cette fois, lorsque je fermerais les yeux, ce serait pour toujours.
Short Story · Loup-garou
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Mi querido prometido, ahora es mi turno de jugar el juego peligroso

Mi querido prometido, ahora es mi turno de jugar el juego peligroso

La noche de nuestra fiesta de compromiso, encontré a mi mejor amiga jugando un juego peligroso con mi prometido. El casino del yate privado de nuestra familia fue donde los encontré. Clara estaba sentada en el regazo de mi prometido, Killian, el heredero de la familia Falcone. Killian sostenía una afilada daga de la familia, cuya punta enganchaba el delgado tirante de su vestido. La hoja trazó un camino a lo largo de su clavícula. La más mínima presión rompería la seda. Era una peligrosa e íntima escena. Di un paso adelante con el ceño fruncido, pero Killian solo se burló. —Es solo un pequeño juego para animar las cosas, «Principessa». No te pongas tan tensa. Los ojos de Clara se entrecerraron, y su voz destilaba una falsa dulzura. —Solo estamos jugando a un juego tradicional de la familia. El juego del cuchillo. No te molesta, ¿verdad, dulzura? Estaba a punto de hablar, pero la expresión de Killian se endureció. —Acabamos de comprometernos, ¿y ya estás intentando controlarme? Así que no dije nada. Simplemente saqué mi pistola personalizada de la funda en mi muslo. —Así que es un juego —dije—. Entonces juguemos por algo real.
Short Story · Mafia
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The Vegetative Killer

The Vegetative Killer

During the five years I was in a vegetative state, all ten family soldiers assigned to guard me were murdered. One of them merely smoked a cigarette outside my hospital room. The next day, he was found upside down, drowned in a toilet. Another simply adjusted my pillow. The next day, he took a dive from a skyscraper rooftop. The Corleone family was in chaos, but they couldn't find a single trace of the killer. With no other choice, the ten executions, all textbook Mafia hits, became cold cases. Strangely, the very second the tenth guard's heart stopped, I opened my eyes. The first thing I did upon waking was call the FBI and turn myself in. The agents were stunned. "Miss Corleone, are you saying that while in a coma for five years, you planned and executed the murders of ten fully armed Mafia soldiers?" My fingers tapped lightly on the table, a faint smile playing on my lips. "That's right." "Being in a vegetative state only means I couldn't move." "Who ever told you that killing, something so crude, required me to get my hands dirty?"
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My Mafia Husband Said He Was Broke

My Mafia Husband Said He Was Broke

The day I married Santino Connor, he went from the infamous heir of a mafia fortune to a broke nobody. When he handed me a plastic ring in a shabby basement and asked if I would start from scratch with him, I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and nodded without a second thought. "Santino, as long as it was with you, I would do anything." For him, I worked more than ten hours a day until my stomach bled from the stress. Our son, from the moment he could walk, trailed me from one odd job to the next. I thought my love could eventually build us a life in the sun. Until, at a lavish banquet where I was serving the elite, he showered me with cash from his seat at the head of the table. "What's that thing crawling on the floor? It's blocking my view!" "Take the money and get out of my sight!" When I saw the woman by his side, her face an eerie copy of my own, I finally understood. To him, this was just a game, and I was the only one playing for keeps. If he was going to go to such lengths to deceive me, then it was time for his game to end. What he didn't know was that one month later, he would be tearing the world apart to find me.
Short Story · Mafia
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Mon mari mafieux doit un enfant à sa belle-sœur

Mon mari mafieux doit un enfant à sa belle-sœur

Le Maître de la famille Moreau a été assassiné par une famille rivale, laissant derrière lui sa femme veuve, Irina. Son frère cadet, mon mari Gabriel, a pris sa place en tant que Maître de famille. Ce titre était assorti d'un devoir : assurer la pérennité de la lignée de Moreau en donnant un enfant à la veuve de son frère. « Adrienne est stérile depuis des années, c'est à Irina de faire ce qu'elle n'a pas pu faire, la famille Moreau ne peut pas être sans héritier. » La voix d'Isoline était pleine de mépris. Gabriel m'a serrée contre lui en murmurant des promesses. « Dès qu'Irina sera enceinte, je jure de ne plus jamais la toucher. » « Adrienne, tu es la seule que j'aime. » Trois mois, et il n'a pas mis les pieds dans notre chambre. Après qu'il m'ait ignorée devant tout le monde, choisissant Irina encore et encore, je suis finalement partie. J'ai pris ce qui m'appartenait et j'ai laissé une chose en partant : un test ADN. C'était mon dernier cadeau à Gabriel.
Short Story · Mafia
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When the Last Rejection Turned Into a Plea

When the Last Rejection Turned Into a Plea

Rocco Falcone, who is the Falcone family's Don and my so-called husband, hangs up on me for what feels like the 99th time. Having been diagnosed with leukemia, I haul my ravaged body into the family lawyer's office. "I'm here to file for a divorce," I said. … When Rocco hears about it, he barges in with my family ten minutes later. The moment he enters, he slaps me. "Did you use the emergency line just to ruin Sofia's big night? Are you out of your mind?" Lily Marone, my mom, snatches the diagnosis right out of my hand and skims through it. She chuckles dismissively. "Did you fake being sick just to get attention? How many lies have you told since you were a kid, Claire?" Sofia Moretti holds Rocco's arm with tears in her eyes. "Forgive me, Claire. I shouldn't have taken the position. Please stop hurting yourself and Rocco." I wipe the blood from my mouth and turn back to the lawyer. "I have no family left. Please hurry with the divorce paperwork. I need it settled before my cremation in three days."
Short Story · Mafia
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My Eight Years as the Don’s Substitute

My Eight Years as the Don’s Substitute

At the Mercer family's annual dinner, I accidentally wore a couture gown that belonged to Lucian's late wife. The eight-year-old boy I had raised myself, in front of every key member of the Family, threw a glass of expensive red wine all over my pure white dress. He just stood there, his cold, condescending expression a mirror of his father's. "Don't think you can become the mistress of this house just by dressing like my Mamma." "I swear, when I'm old enough to take over the family business, I'll make you disappear for good!" The cold liquid soaked through the fabric, clinging to my skin. But I felt nothing. My heart had frozen solid the moment I signed my life away eight years ago. I looked at the child I had raised as my own for eight years. There was no anger. The faintest smile touched my lips. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You won't have to wait that long, my little lion. I'm leaving, and it will be very soon."
Short Story · Mafia
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The Alpha’s Silver Arrow

The Alpha’s Silver Arrow

I took a poisoned silver arrow for my Alpha, Kaiden, during an assassination attempt. In doing so, I lost my wolf forever, falling from a proud warrior to a disgrace to my pack. Driven by guilt and duty, he kept me as his mate for thirty years, but our relationship was built on polite distance. On my deathbed, I discovered that the 199 memory crystals I had filled with a lifetime of love for him had been tossed into a dusty corner of a storage room. All the while, he kept another she-wolf's crystals locked away in a magically sealed safe, treasuring them above all else. As I lay dying, all I felt through our bond was his chilling indifference. Kaiden arrived late. The last words he whispered in my ear were, "Next time, don't take the silver arrow for me." I finally understood. He would rather have died than be shackled to me by a life debt. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before the tragedy. The Moon Goddess had granted me a second chance. This time, I would sever our fated bond before he could mark me. But when the silver arrow flew toward me this time, he was the one who threw himself into its path. "This time, let me protect you."
Short Story · Werewolf
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Twelve Years Later, His Canary Flew Away

Twelve Years Later, His Canary Flew Away

The night before my fiancé, Soren, and I were supposed to leave for Northern Europe to start our new life, the sounds of a lively discussion drifted from his private club. "Christ, Boss, are you insane? Why the sudden marriage alliance with the Rosetti family to make a play for Italy? Didn't you say you were getting out of the life with Abby and heading north?" Soren leaned back into a leather sofa, his voice nonchalant and muffled by a cloud of smoke. "Plans change. Besides, remember, I'm the one who made her who she is." "Once she sees the new empire I'm building, that little canary will come flying right back to my cage. The woman can't live without me." I stood in the shadows of the club, a wine glass in my hand, a dull ache blooming in my chest. The anniversary gift I had so carefully chosen for Soren was still in my purse, waiting for me to give it to him. I slipped out of the smoke-filled club, tossed the gift into the nearest trash can, and booked a one-way ticket to Northern Europe. But what he didn't know was that just as he could betray our future for Monica, I could abandon him for mine. All those years we spent dancing with death were never just for his sake.
Short Story · Mafia
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Born To Slay Gods

Born To Slay Gods

After three years of gathering herbs, I finally returned to Green-Pouch Valley. But my master, Mr. Gu, was not there. On the ground, only a dark red pool of blood remained, soaking his cloth robes. My senior brothers and sisters, usually so lively, were nowhere to be found. My master's wife, Auntie Qin, sat collapsed beside the pool of blood. Her once-black hair was now mostly white, her voice a hoarse whisper as she called to me. "Shuang'er, your master traded his life for the valley's ascension. You must go to the Nine Heavens and offer your thanks." It was only then I understood. The Celestial Lord, Jun Che, in his quest to forge an immortal body for his mortal wife, had coveted my master's rare Celestial Bones of Healing. He used the promise of ascension for everyone in Green-Pouch Valley as bait, then brutally tore the bones from my master's living body. I was born with a strange affliction, a void where joy and sorrow should be. The others in the valley secretly called me a cold-blooded monster. Now, as I stared at the blood-soaked robes of the man who had saved me and treated me like his own daughter, my expression remained blank. "Auntie Qin, did Master do this willingly?" Auntie Qin's eyes instantly reddened. "Jun Che is the Celestial Lord. His word is heavenly law. How could we ever defy it?" I gave a faint nod. "If it was not what Master wanted, then Jun Che deserves to die." Auntie Qin's face went pale with fright. She lunged forward and clutched my arm. "Shuang'er, your master's last words were for you all to protect yourselves, not throw your lives away fighting an unwinnable war against the heavens." I pried her fingers off one by one and looked up at the glittering, golden Celestial Realm beyond the clouds. A faint smile touched my lips. "Auntie Qin, Master taught me that a healer's heart must be compassionate." "But he never taught me that gods can't be killed."
Short Story · Imagination
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