Penelope Ward 소설 & 이야기

I don’t want to upset her. “No, I’m not. My mother, is─was part Brazilian. She was an anthropologist. She died years ago, and I moved in with my uncle until he died last year. It’s just Lyria and me. We were celebrating my twenty-fifth I lean back in the chair with a quirked brow. “You’re twenty-five. I would have thought you were much younger.” Penelope shrugs her shoulders, loosening one of the strings as it glides haplessly down her arm. “I told the woman who took us that I was eighteen after I overheard her saying she wanted young, innocent girls. Have your men found her?”

I sent the text, tucked my phone back into my pocket and went in search of Penelope. Finally! I can have her to myself. I roamed the long, barren corridors of the prison, peering into each cell as I passed, but Penelope was nowhere to be found. I followed her scent, a faint trail of lavender that led me to the prison yard. As I stepped outside, the fresh air filled my lungs, but my relief was short-lived. In the center of the yard, I saw Penelope standing alone, her back to me. She was staring at something in the distance, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. She looked defeated, her usual strength and resilience nowhere to be found.

I scrambled out of the swivel chair, put it back into place before scurrying out of the room and down the stairs. Penelope was in by the entrance, her arms heavy laden with shopping bags from different stores. She shook her platform heels off, a weary expression overtaking her facial features. She looked up when she saw me coming down, and an indifferent expression came to her face. “You have no idea what I had to go through to get you all this stuff. Honestly, I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Davien practically forced me to buy you the best of the best. He must really like you,” she muttered, making heat crawl up my neck. Davien, what are you doing to me?

I had also lost my child, failed in the competition, and was deceived by the person I loved. Yet, whenever she had to make a choice, my suffering mattered less than a single word from Jonathan. Penelope kneeled among the plane wreckage in a daze, sobbing until she nearly fainted from exhaustion. Later, some staff members found her and took her to the hospital. Jonathan was mildly annoyed by how lifeless Penelope looked. "Now that the 100th prank on Edward is over, let's be together, Penelope." Penelope remained unmoved. Jonathan smirked, waving a USB drive. "I'm using a dead man's designs for the competition. Penelope, do you want to present the award?"

He said to Hailey. Hailey cowered into the sofa behind her as she tried to escape the intensity of his gaze. *** “Is that her?” Jared King inquired as his wheelchair moved automatically towards her. The black cloth was pulled over Penelope’s head. One of Jared’s men splashed some water on his face, waking her up. Penelope jolted awake and struggled with the binds on her wrists and ankles. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light. “Did you do this?” She asked, surprisingly calm when her eyes fell on the man in the automated wheelchair.

Penelope sat across from him, legs crossed, chattering animatedly with her hands. “…I swear, if I don’t get to wear something from Chanel or Dior, I might just die,” Penelope was saying, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was in a commercial. “We’re not just any pack. This is the Eldridge Pack’s anniversary—we can’t show up like peasants.” I kept my expression neutral. Just a maid. Just furniture with eyes. The Luna glanced up at my arrival. “Ah, Raine. Good. Just in time.”

She looked toward the entrance, and for a moment our eyes met through the glass. The impact was immediate. My wolf went crazy, pacing and whining in my mind. Penelope’s awakened bloodline had intensified everything about her. Her scent carried on the wind and made my hands shake. “Ice Cream Uncle?” Debbie’s voice brought me back to the present. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” I managed. “Just admiring your mother’s work.” Nathan’s expression was dangerous. “Admiring. Right.” The facility door opened again. Penelope emerged. She wore practical training clothes that emphasized her athletic build. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, and her posture was straight.

He would find them, and when he did, they’d regret it. Meanwhile, back at the mansion, Penelope pushed open the front door hesitantly, her thoughts a whirlwind. She stood there for a while, not knowing what to do. “Miss Lorenzo,” a voice called, breaking her train of thought. Penelope turned to see an older woman approaching her—probably in her sixties. She was dressed in a crisp uniform, her silver hair neatly pinned back, and her eyes sharp as they took in Penelope from head to toe. Almost like she had already made up her mind about her.

Maybe she's copping onto him. My mom and Jack were getting on well together, laughing and chatting while standing in the garden having some wine. My father on the other hand seemed to be avoiding him like the plague since I introduced them a couple of hours ago. He didn't like him — that much was clear. I turned my head when I heard Penelope's laugh. She was looking cute in a little white lace sundress and matching hat. She was happy — probably happiest the most when she had his attention.

She ripped off a part of her dress and wrapped the screaming infant warmly, before using her claw to cut off the cord connecting the baby to his mother. "Oh Penny, he looks so much like Tyler." Aurora said, smiling through her tears. "He has his hair. Here, hold him." But Penelope had gone totally still. Her eyes remained opened, her face extremely pale. Aurora looked up at her, and then at the crying baby in her arms. Her smile slowly faded as she realized what was happening. This was the vision she had seen. It was happening. Penelope was dead.