A Husband For Killer Mom - Chapter 20

When disaster struck, Ling Mo knew that the kinds of zombies depicted in doomsday movies would in fact, be totally different from reality…

What if your life was never your own?What if every choice, every breath, was ink on a page, and you were made to lose?Eris was written to fall.To burn. To become the villain everyone needed to hate.But she remembers everything now.The death. The second chance. The truth.And she’s done playing along.The world wants its villain back.It’s unraveling without her.But Eris is tired. So very tired.And if she must die again, this time, she’ll choose the ending.support me on PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/cw/Rosesarepink

Reed has accidentally crossed over into a virtual reality game that is not due for release until a year later.Inside the game, he is a Progenitor Vampire that has been hiding amongst humans to study magic that also owns an ancient castle with over 200 vampiric descendants.What a roller-coaster ride.Thankfully, he can still return back to Earth. But the biggest crisis staring down upon him is the open beta scheduled for a year later, and the coming of the players.How can he, as a vampire, get strong enough to fight against the oncoming catastrophe incarnates – the players themselves!!This is the tale of a Progenitor Vampire leading a group of vampires and humans farming the land.

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.”