DASH - Chapter 132

Five years ago, Violet Don was framed and accused of causing the death of Noah Bates's child. This led to Noah's sending her to prison and the downfall of her family. What he didn't know was that Violet was also carrying his child.Five years later, upon Violet's release, Noah corners her, demanding, “If you want your child, come and atone for your sins!”Violet smiles, “You can let him call anyone mom.”Noah, filled with hatred, says, “After five years in prison, how can you still be so cruel!”“Yes,” Violet's eyes redden as she smiles, “In your eyes, I'm a murderer.”Later, he finds out that he has owed her an apology all along. But by then, she no longer cares...

“You are my salvation and an answer to my cursed eyes.”------In a world of vampires, werewolves, and witches, a girl is born to be the bride of the vicious and bloodthirsty 300-year-old immortal Vampire Prince. The man who could never be enticed by any ethereal beauty till now suddenly has shown interest in a woman with a curse whom everyone abandoned.Alora Wilson, the eldest daughter of a high-noble human family, is born with the curse of an old powerful witch.It is the curse that burns the person into ashes if the person looks directly into her eyes. A curse that forces her to wear the blindfold since the moment she was born in this world.When the kids of her age enjoyed every small moment of their lives, she couldn't. No one loves to befriend her. Even her own father and siblings despise her.One day Magnus Lukeson, the Vampire Prince, enters her life– The man whom the entire kingdom is scared of. A man with only foes and no friends. A man who ventures his territory at night to take the fresh blood out of humans irrespective of the age or gender to quench his thirst.~~~~~The blindfold cascaded off Alora's eyes and her enchanted blue eyes met with Magnus' blood-red eyes.“You have enchanting eyes, Alora,” Magnus pronounced.No one ever said that to her. But no one could look into her eyes either. Only Magnus was the exception. The reason was still unknown to her.“Shall we begin the night?” Magnus asked for her permission.“Will His Highness give me love?” Alora asked. She was desperate to be loved. The feeling she could never get from her family and only heard in the words.“And how am I supposed to provide love to you?” Magnus queried since he was curious to know her thoughts.“Holding hands, hugging each other, sleeping together, and sharing thoughts. Isn't that how you shower love?” Alora innocently asked.Magnus ended up smiling to hear her explanation of love. He leaned down and kissed her lips, causing her to shiver from that sudden feeling. “This is the way I shower love,” Magnus pronounced, gazing into Alora's charming blue eyes.

“I can’t do it anymore. Stop it…I can’t take it anymore!” The second young master stopped in his tracks and raised his brows as he stared at Miss Jiang. “All you had to do was jog, so—”

Everyone knew that Miss Jiang was an artiste who had been defamed and blacklisted before she became famous again. When she got into trouble, she did not give up but fought persistently. Everyone knew that the second young master was the mysterious head of the enterprise. He was an extremely cold person with an exquisite taste. Moreover, the second young master had recently adopted a new hobby. He took in his younger brother’s ex-fiancée and he was extremely fond of her…

- Description from Novelupdates

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”