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A Paradox

Author: Enahoro BHB

2025-09-08 01:11:20

The street hung in a charged silence, the weight of the moment pressing against Warren’s senses. His questions still lingered in the air when, in a single fluid motion, the twenty-one men in their blood-red suits dropped to their knees, heads bowed in unison. The sight was jarring, a stark contrast to the menace they’d exuded moments ago. Warren’s confusion deepened, his mind racing to untangle the scene before him. The Crown of the Abyss pulsed on his finger, its whispers sharp and urgent, sensing a shift in the energy around him.

Then, the woman—the enigmatic figure whose aura danced between seduction and power—knelt as well. Her crimson dress dipped lower, revealing more of her flawless skin, and Warren’s eyes, despite his iron discipline, were drawn to her. He was no statue; her beauty was a weapon, and it struck true. His gaze caught a glimpse of a tattoo, a intricate design curling just beneath the curve of her breast, partially hidden by the fabric. His breath hitched. He’d see

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The Quickie
The next thing Jared heard next was a loud splash. Bam! The two men quickly took to their heels in response to "Mission accomplished!" On getting to where their car was parked, one of them realized he left his phone behind. Lol.... "Left my phonephone behind" At the same time... Jared was contemplating, his first instinct was to leave due to the fact that according to the Asassin secret code, they were not meant to obstruct or sabotage another asassin(s) mission, however this asassins looked and worked very unprofessionally. Before jared could even come down to a conclusion he jumped off the cliff and into the water, swiftly rescuing the lady. "What was he doing? " He asked himself even as he carried the woman to the shores. When Jared opened the bag, surprisingly, it was a young lady who obviously was already drenched, her slender form had felt heavy with water, Jared could not believe his eyes. The ladies clothes clinged to her like a second skin. The thi
Murder Attempt
Olivia, however was not always that week. The catalysis that made her seem weak was the lost of her father. Dan's ulterior motive was to secure being under the canopy, good grace and protection of the Otedola empire making him an easy target and prey for Lilith, now he was under the manipulation of Lilith and was well aware of the fate that awaits Olivia; Death. "Fine!" Olivia smirked all of a sudden and paused her tears, not letting her emotions get the better of her. She summoned the strength left within her and stood. "You betrayed me, Your loss!" With that said, she walked out of the room with a blank expressionless face. She was feeling a lot of pain but she was able to control herself from appearing weak in front of those bastards. Lilith didn't really mind, nor did Dan. After all she was a walking corpse. Immediately she got into her room, she locked herself in and slumped on the bed and hugged her teddy bear tightly with tears flowing down her eyes like a riv
Break In
A Quickie With An Assasin Billionaire Blurb=> Trained from birth to be a lethal assassin, The youngest billionaire in the city, Jared living a double life as a charming zillionaire business mogul and genetically an underworld heir to the most feared (assasin) family is dispatched on his inaugural mission by his father to eliminate Olivia, the heiress of a powerful empire. But when a miscalculated risk embedded in a twist of fate brings them together, their initial confrontation, a quick sexual intercourse ignites an unexpected spark. Jared soon found himself torn between his loyalty to his family and his odd-unfamiliar feelings for Oliver. Will he follow through with his mission, or will he risk everything to protect her as their forbidden connection deepens, blurring the lines between hunter and prey. chapter 1 Purr! Purr! The sound of cars could be heard by the bystanders as they wonder who could afford to buy or even drive a car with such sound, into this poor nei
287
Rachel, Samson, and Sophia huddled in the shadow of a concrete pillar, their makeshift shelter from the relentless glare. The red carpet was gone, rolled up by Warren’s lackeys, the convoy of luxury cars long vanished with the Shadow King, his new bride Cassandra, and their son Logan. The crowd had dispersed, leaving only the hum of Ironspire’s traffic and the occasional curious glance at the ragged trio. Rachel’s tattered dress clung to her sweat-soaked skin, the chipped coffee mug at her feet holding a meager handful of coins—barely enough for a loaf of bread. Samson and Sophia, eleven-year-old twins, sat cross-legged on the pavement, their once-fine clothes ripped and filthy, their faces smudged with dirt and dried tears. Hunger gnawed at them, their stomachs empty since the pretzel at dawn, their eyes hollow from a night on the streets.Rachel’s head hung low, her matted hair curtaining her face as she muttered apologies to the air, her voice cracked from begging. “We’ll find
286
The midday sun scorched Ironspire’s central courthouse plaza, the pavement radiating heat like a griddle. Rachel knelt on the cracked sidewalk, her once-elegant dress now a tattered rag, stained with dirt and sweat. Her twins, Samson and Sophia—eleven, hollow-cheeked, and shivering despite the heat—clutched her sides, their small hands clutching a chipped coffee mug that held three crumpled dollar bills. “Please,” Rachel rasped to passersby, her voice raw from hours of begging. “Anything for my kids.” Most hurried past, eyes averted, whispering “Crane” like a curse. The girls’ stomachs growled in unison, their last meal a stale pretzel shared at dawn. Their hair, once glossy, hung matted; their shoes, designer leather, were scuffed and sole-worn. They should be in school but they had been banned. The city that once fawned over the Cranes now spat on them. Friends—socialites, business tycoons—dodged Rachel’s desperate calls with excuses: “Out of town,” “Bad signal,” or cold silence.
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The Crane mansion’s grand facade, once a beacon of untouchable wealth, stood stark against Ironspire’s predawn glow, its marble columns cold under the first light of morning. Inside, the living room was a tomb of shattered dreams—chandeliers dim, Persian rugs askew from Rachel’s frantic pacing. Rachel sat crumpled on the velvet sofa, her designer dress torn at the hem, her face streaked with mascara. Her twin, Samson and Sophie—Samson and Sophia, now eleven, their names a quiet rebellion against Victor’s expectations—clung to her, their small hands gripping her arms, eyes wide with fear. Anamika stood by the fireplace, her silk blouse wrinkled, her phone dead after hours of fruitless calls. The TV looped Warren’s triumph: Victor, bloodied and broken, sentenced to life in Blackthorn Prison, the Crane empire in ruins. Outside, the estate was eerily silent, Victor’s mercenaries and enforcers long fled, their taillights vanished into the night, spooked by the Shadow King’s unstoppable

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