Aventurero の小説・ストーリー

He remembered wondering if it hurt as much as Ventril's, a man he'd known in the conisoir who had a scar running down the left side of his face, making its way past his unseeing eye. With it, Ventril had spun a tale of his great escapade where he would be found fighting off a saber-toothed snow tiger in the icy peaks of Yggdra, to the north. But even at a young age Sethlzaar had known it to be naught more than a tale. The man had most likely gotten it from picking a fight with a brute over the wrong whore. Everyone knew what kind of man Ventril was. But somehow, he knew he would believe if the priest got his fending off a horde of mammoths. The man certainly had the feel about him.

Ravan: Greek god like body and sharp facial features , anybody would mistake him for being a super model however he is a killing machine, he is ruthless, brutal, cold and heartless who shows no mercy on his prey, he makes them suffer before killing them in deadliest way possible, Ravan Works for the only mafia in India Shabbir Shaikh, who solely owns whole underworld of India, Ravan runs every illegal bushiness of shabbir from extortion, Drugs smuggling, human trafficking , international smuggling to even KILLING , Every gangster wets their pants just hearing Ravan’s name, Every politician is under his command, police fears to even lodge an complaints against him, Media avoid every news rel

Period. When I first met Maverick during an auction, I thought he earned those muscles from going to the gym and working out just like most of the men here. I only get to know the truth when Chino told me about Maverick's way of things. Mr. Fuentebella is a daredevil. He does dangerous stuff for entertainment. He likes rock climbing, drag racing, off-road activities and the likes. I also heard he's into military trainings these days. No wonder he looks so fit and oh so yummy. "Do you need a tissue? Girl, you’re drooling," Chino teased me.

Sorin said as his lips threatened to break open into another grin. "Sheesh you don't even know how useful this weapon you uncultured swine.! Just ask Eugene he will tell you just how useful this weapon is!" Eira huffs out defiantly. "Who?? Who is this E-Eugen??" Sorin asks confused. "Not Eugen it's Eugene, you know the dashing bandit who's nose always ends up getting skewered on the wanted posters?" Eira says as she looked at him if he understood. Sorin still looked confused.

God, I love when bitter men with skills are freshly dumped and emotionally available for revenge. As I closed my laptop, the city buzzed outside, clueless. The McLarens thought they’d seen the last of me. But what they didn’t know? The real Hunter doesn’t bark. She stalks. And tomorrow? I’d be loading my arrows. With a coder at my side and a vendetta in my veins. Let the slow burn begin. Tomas De Nero. He used to be Venice’s little tech puppet. Her lapdog. Her project. Her "I’m-dating-a-smart-guy-for-extra-credit" accessory.

He's been helping me keep an eye out ever since. I crouched beside the blackened remains of the corpse. Most of the skin was charred off, and what remained had fused with the stone beneath. I reached out and touched the Bloodhound crest, brushing ash away with two fingers. “Who is he?” I asked without looking up. Ryker shifted behind me, “Name was Butch. One of our border runners.” “He’s part of the scout class?” “Yeah. He was in the lowest tier, but loyal kid. Never missed a shift.”

"Those five people behind Anthonio Argento... I can recognize them." "Tell me," Venom urged, leaning forward. Hacker grinned, pleased to be helpful. "One is the Don of The Black Mambas. I recognize the tattoo on his shoulder. The second one is the boss of The Syndicate, Pedro." Venom’s eyes narrowed. "Yeah. I got that." Hacker continued, "I can’t identify the two on the right, but the person in the center is Alpha Rosario." "And who's that?" Venom asked, his curiosity piqued.

The explosion hit the water instead, sending a pillar of boiling sea spray and steam into the air. Alessandro used the screen of steam to move. He didn't fire from a distance. He ran into the heart of the chaos, a shadow weaving through the wreckage of the boats. He came up behind two mercenaries, his movements a blur of violet-stained hands and cold steel. He didn't waste bullets. A knife to the seam of the tactical vest. A short-arc strike to the temple. He moved with a terrifying, silent efficiency that made the *Sombra* veterans—men who had fought in jungles and deserts—stumble in fear.

The empty field on the outskirts of the city was cloaked in darkness, with only the glow from the car lights breaking the darkness. The silence here felt like a deep contrast to the chaotic screams of the mob they had just fled from. Vespera perched on the edge of the open trunk, her face pale in the low light. She winced as Trent tended to the jagged wound on her forearm, taking a sharp breath. This man seemed to be Ezekiel's friend, a closer friend maybe. Ezekiel had not wasted time in calling him some minutes again.

he said, and I rolled my eyes. "Sadly, I am not the rest. I am Adrianna, in case you don't know my name yet!" I said, and it seemed to annoy him more. "Getting mad doesn't suit you, Vincenzo, it makes you look like an old grumpy grandpa."I earned another warning glare. "Don't glare at me, hoping that I will be afraid of you. I will remind you that once more," I said, and he sighed. "Anyways, forget about the Italian Mafia leader wanting me. Actually,I am right in front of him and I wonder why he is not even trying to capture me," I said with a grin making him chuckle.