Novels by ve899627

The wind blew hard across the cliffs that morning, dragging the mist inland and swallowing what was left of the old Ardmore estate. It had been days since they found Helena, and yet Julian couldn’t shake the feeling that the house itself still breathed beneath the rubble. There were whispers in the stone, the kind that didn’t fade just because you wanted them to.They set up camp in what used to be the gardener’s cottage a small structure that somehow survived the fire. Lila stood at the window, arms folded, her reflection fractured in the cracked glass. The sea roared below them, and with it came the faint metallic groan of the ruined gate swinging in the wind.“She’s not sleeping,” Helena said quietly from the corner, voice soft as a prayer. “She listens for ghosts.”Julian didn’t turn. “There are plenty to listen to.”The old woman’s eyes, still sharp under their wear, drifted toward the piano keys she’d salvaged just a handful of them, scattered on the table like relics. “You do

The sound came again closer this time soft and measured, the rhythm of someone who had every right to be there. Lila’s breath caught, and Julian’s hand moved instinctively to the small gun holstered beneath his coat. The firelight from the half-collapsed room flickered weakly against the wet walls, painting ghosts that moved when they didn’t.Then a shape appeared at the far end of the corridor, framed by what was left of the doorway. For a heartbeat the world forgot how to breathe.The woman stepped into the light. Her hair was streaked with silver, her coat heavy and worn, her face both familiar and strange older, thinner, but unmistakable. The lines around her mouth were carved by years of silence, and her eyes, though dimmer, still carried the same deliberate calm that once could stop a room.Julian froze. “Mom?”Her voice trembled but didn’t break. “You shouldn’t have come back, Julian.”Lila turned, her hand tightening around his sleeve. “Helena?”The woman’s gaze flicked to her

The air had the chill of places that never really forget winter. The road cut through a narrow valley lined with bare trees, the kind that bent slightly in the wind as though bowing to everything that had already passed. The world was quiet now — too quiet. Lila sat with her knees pulled up, the radio humming static, her gaze fixed on the map that no longer mattered. Julian drove like a man chasing direction through memory, his eyes trained on the horizon but his mind somewhere else entirely.They had been running for months. Not from the law, not exactly — though headlines still called them missing — but from what survival demanded. Freedom had its own kind of captivity; it made you realize what you’d lost just to stay alive.When they stopped that night, it was at a motel that looked like a bruise against the sky — one flickering neon sign, one tired clerk, one room that smelled faintly of rain and old smoke. Lila dropped her bag near the bed and sat, her hair spilling loose as she

The sea was restless that morning, gray waves folding into each other, dragging the past out with every pull. The old car rattled along the coastal road, the horizon nothing but salt and wind. Julian’s hand was still wrapped in gauze, his knuckles stiff, his ribs bruised from the crash, but his eyes were clear now — too clear, like someone who’d finally stepped out of the fire only to find there was no smoke left to hide in.Lila hadn’t spoken in hours. She sat curled against the window, watching the water shift colors as dawn rose over it. Her reflection trembled in the glass, pale and tired, hair tangled from the wind. The silence between them had changed; it wasn’t sharp anymore, just hollow, like both of them had said too much already.Julian stopped the car at a deserted stretch of beach. The sand was coarse and cold, the tide coming in slow. He stepped out first, his boots sinking into the damp ground, the wind tugging at his coat. Lila followed without a word, her bare feet tra

The first thing I felt was pain. Not sharp — deep. The kind that crawled through bone and memory, dragging everything dark with it.The second thing was sound. Beeping. A slow, stubborn rhythm, the kind hospitals use to measure how alive you still are.I opened my eyes to a ceiling the color of paper and air that tasted like disinfectant. My head throbbed, my ribs felt wrapped in knives. When I turned, light seared the edge of my vision.“Don’t move.”Her voice came from the corner — low, shaking, but unmistakable. Lila.She stepped into view, her hair messy, eyes rimmed red. “You’ve been out for almost two days.”I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Where…?”“An old clinic outside the city,” she said quickly. “A friend of mine from university — she owes me. No records, no questions.”I tried to sit up, but pain clawed through my side. “The car?”“Gone. Burned. Whoever hit you wanted to make sure there was nothing left.”I looked at her. “You saw them?”She hesitated, then shook her head

We didn’t stop driving until the estate disappeared completely from the rearview mirror. The road stretched ahead like an open wound, empty and endless, and the only sound was the hum of the engine and Lila’s uneven breathing beside me.She stared out the window, her reflection ghosted in the glass. “He’s not going to let us walk away.”“I know.” My voice was low, controlled, the way it used to get when things fell apart. “That’s why we don’t walk. We run.”I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. The night was thick, the headlights cutting through it like a blade. Somewhere behind us, the Ardmore estate stood — a nest of lies, fire, and blood. Somewhere behind us, Thomas Ardmore was already planning his next move.Lila turned to me. “Where are we going?”“Somewhere quiet. I know a place.”She didn’t ask how. She didn’t have to. The way I said it made her understand that men like me always have a place to disappear.We stopped at a rundown inn near the coast, where the walls smelled