Ryan Clark Scar の小説・ストーリー

Once the meeting was over, Scarlett dismissed the others and retreated to her father's study. Closing the door behind her, she let out a deep breath and slumped into the plush leather chair behind the desk, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She couldn't afford to let anyone see her weakness, not now that she was in charge. Just as she was about to pour herself a drink, the door creaked open and a man entered slowly, his form looming over hers like an eclipse. Scarlett froze. She recognized him instantly - The Lord's most trusted hitman, Romero Alvarez. They had been in an altercation some hours ago. She watched as his eyes bore down on her, dark and intense.

“You’ve made Ryan blush, you dirty slut!” Sandra smiles at you, then thankfully changes the subject to put you out of your misery. “So Ryan, which famous person would you choose?” You think about it for a moment. “Uh, I dunno… maybe Scar Son?” “Good choice!” says Laura. “Yeah, good choice,” agrees Sandra. “You know, I think I’d probably turn lesbian for Scar Son. How about you, Laura?” Laura shrugs. “Maybe. I bet she eats pussy like a pro.”

Surrounded by a chorus of anxious voices, I couldn't help but feel isolated, completely alone. As the family gathered closely, living me behind. A warmed hand touches mind. It was Jason who stood out as my unwavering knight. Just by his mere presence, it already provided a calming sense of security within me, serves as a barrier against the overwhelming tide of emotions. How I love him so much. "I'm here for you, Celicia. You can always count on me," he whispered to my ear. His warm gesture fills me, despite the thousands of agony inside me.

Maxwell’s POV Scarlett stepped back from the door, her eyes darting to mine with a mixture of curiosity and unease. I offered her a gentle smile, hoping to ease her nerves. Clay and I entered, glancing around the small, modest room. It was simple, far from the opulence she must have known in the South, but she seemed to find peace here. Her expression was calm, as if grateful for the small space and its quietude. She didn’t need luxury; she needed a haven.

Klara gulped but maintained a firm tone. "This can't be nothing. Let's have a look," Reagan stated, crouching beside the bed, waiting for Klara to undo the laces at the back of Reyana's dress. Klara reluctantly did, and even she didn't expect what she just saw. There was a strange scar on Reyana's back, not so far from the Crescent moon mark. And whatever this strange scar was, it glowed a bright shade of light for reasons they couldn't tell. "Heavens..." Reagan whispered when his gaze fell on the scar, "What in the seven seas is happening here?"

At least then, it wouldn’t have ended like this. Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced through Cyrus and Richard's argument, breaking Clark's train of thought. "No, I don't want to go to the operating room! Let me go! You're all murderers!" A woman's frantic voice filled the room, and Clark's gaze turned icy. He recognized the voice—it was Rebecca, the woman who had caused Nyla's death. Hate flashed in Clark's eyes as he leaned on his crutch and headed outside. Cyrus was startled by Clark's sudden movement and quickly rushed to support him. "Clark, what are you doing? The doctor said you need to stay in bed for a month!"

“That boy… that little fool. I trusted him. He was supposed to handle it. Where the hell is he?!” “Lower your voice,” she said, shutting the door. “The staff can hear you.” “Let them hear!” Carlos turned to her, eyes wild. “Maybe they’ll help me find that bastard! He hasn’t picked my calls since last night. Nothing. Just vanished!” Ciara sighed. “You said his name is Raymond.” Carlos shook his head violently. “That’s the name he gave me. His real name is Clark. Clark Dawson.” Ciara’s eyes widened. “Clark Dawson? The same man involved in the Williams scandal years ago?”

“But Scar better hurry, or we’re leaving without him.” Meanwhile, back in the parking lot, Ryk stood by the van, his eyes looking around for any more clues, his hands were muddy from the swamp dirt. He slowly began to stand up, while whispering to himself. “Swamp mud,” he said, his eyes moving to Scar who was walking back into the bar. He tasted the mud again, now he was sure it was from the swamp forest, he slowly took out his phone, and began dialing numbers, One of the phones stopped ringing, he picked up the phone,

At least then, it wouldn’t have ended like this. Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced through Cyrus and Richard's argument, breaking Clark's train of thought. "No, I don't want to go to the operating room! Let me go! You're all murderers!" A woman's frantic voice filled the room, and Clark's gaze turned icy. He recognized the voice—it was Rebecca, the woman who had caused Nyla's death. Hate flashed in Clark's eyes as he leaned on his crutch and headed outside. Cyrus was startled by Clark's sudden movement and quickly rushed to support him. "Clark, what are you doing? The doctor said you need to stay in bed for a month!"

At instant recognition, my blood chills to ice. That's… That's Ryker. Ryker Lockhart. One of Kaliq's most lucrative business partners and a very dangerous man not to be messed with. Dear goddess…. Ryker’s face is exactly as I remember; Rough looking with all harsh angles of his cruelty. A deep scar slices across his left cheek, a gnarled, angry mark that tugs the corner of his mouth into a permanent half-snarl. His dark hair is a tangled mess, streaked through with strands of white.