Harry Potter : Bloodraven - Chapter 107: Twilight of the Parasite (III) (CH - 127)

“Strip.”The command was sharp, laced with authority, cutting through the silence like the crack of a whip.The deep timbre of Dimitri's voice sent a shiver down the spines of the gathered women. They had learned quickly in the past two days, obedience meant survival. At his order, they bowed their heads, hands trembling as they peeled away the thin, tattered fabric that barely shielded them from humiliation.But one of them did not move. She stood frozen in place promting Dimitri's eyes narrow._________Born in a world of deception, Princess Sorayah Drakon was forced to live as a prince, hiding her gender and her unique gifts. She can heal wounds, command the elements, disguise as someone else or animals, manipulate dreams, creates powerful illusions, and ability to wield strength no other human possesses.Feeling trapped, she sheds her false identity under the cover of night to dress as a woman. One fateful night, during one of these secret escapades, she met Lupien Nightshade, the crown prince of the werewolves! It was love at first sight.But love soon turns into tragedy when Lupien kills her father, throwing the human kingdom into chaos. Humans were captured as slaves and Sorayah became one of them.She swore revenge, wanting to get close to Lupien to kill him but before she could, she was claimed by Dimitri Nightshade, Lupien's uncle! When she realized their interests aligned, Sorayah sought to gain his trust and use him as a weapon.Two enemies. One kingdom. A shared thirst for destruction.But there was something else.Something Sorayah hadn't planned for.Dimitri Nightshade was irresistible.She hated him so much she wanted to carve his heart out with her bare hands but she couldn't deny the way he made her burn with passion.Will Soraya be able to bend him to her will?Or will she be trapped in his claws forever?

“My pants are already off. Stopping now would be a bit redundant, don’t you think?”

Everyone knew the cool, aristocratic Chairman Li was sick, but only Rong Yan knew the man was problematic and sick in the head. That day, she was accosted at the bedroom entrance. Long arms held her against her will as the man leaned into her ear and whispered, “Marry me.” Rong Yan struggled to no avail. Frustrated, she said, “I have a boyfriend of five years.”

“You mean my son is your boyfriend?”

For her baby boy, she was willing to secretly marry this billionaire chairman. From then on, he held the knife for her kills, and poured the gasoline as she set fires. Everyone knew the chairman was possessive and paranoid—and Rong Yan was his bottom line. The five-year-old Li Duidui was at a loss. When Daddy and Mommy fought, was he supposed to help clear up the misunderstanding or close the door on them…

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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.”