Novels by overwhelmingintensity24

The night pressed against the city like a living creature. Wind whispered through the cracks in the motel walls, slipping over Jeffery's skin with a cold that wasn't natural. The neon sign outside Room 19 flickered again and again—a sickly, yellow heartbeat that matched the unsteady throb in his temples.Jeffery sat at the edge of the motel bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the assortment of forest ingredients laid out on the crooked table.He hadn't slept.Sleep was impossible when his blood felt like molten metal and his bones vibrated with something trying to take root inside them.He forced himself to breathe.The ingredients were arranged in four messy rows:Ironwood bark curls, thick and twisted like dried muscles fibers. Three black fungal spores, each one the size of his palm and pulsing faintly. A jagged amber resin, still warm from the forest floor. Frost bloom petal, so cold they crystallized the air around them.The room itself smelled like sulfur, wet earth, and old ch

The neon light outside his room stuttered again. Then a long, sickly flicker that stretched across the cracked walls like a warning pulse.Jeffery didn't look up.He sat hunched at the rickety motel table—barefoot, shirt clinging to him from sweat, shadows pooling under his eyes. The air in the room was stale and metallic, thick enough that every breath felt like swallowing rust. Something restless prowled in the atmosphere, a prelude to an unnamed disaster.On the table, the Philosopher's Stone glowed faintly inside its silver casing, its pulse rhythmic and alive. Almost like a heartbeat. Almost like it was reminding him:You're running out of time.He knew. He didn't need the Stone to tell him that.The city outside held its breath. Criminals armed with Prescott's awakening drug were growing faster, stronger, hungrier each night. News reports painted him as the threat. The board was turning on Rita. And Aadam Prescott—somewhere in his expensive, clinical office—was watching the worl

Rita left her office with a controlled calm that didn't match the storm tightening inside her. The building's evening lights had shifted into that warm-orange softness she used to love—back when her authority still meant something. Now it felt like a dimly lit stage where every shadow had teeth.Her heels clicked against the polished floor, steady but not careless. She kept her chin level, eyes forward. To anyone watching, she looked composed and confident.To herself, she felt like glass—clear, sharp, and brittle—one wrong pressure away from shattering into shards.But shattered glass cuts, too.And tonight, she refused to break the way they wanted her to.As she walked, she noticed the shift in people's expressions. Some gave her quick nods. Some pretended she wasn't there. Some stared too long, the way people stare at a fallen statue and wonder who will be next to topple.She didn't let it touch her.She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the boardroom floor. The

The bathroom door clicked softly behind her. Rita leaned against the cool tile wall, her palms pressed against the porcelain sink, splashing water over her face again and again. Each cold splash was supposed to wake her, reset her as always, but it only sharpened the ache inside her chest. She knew every detail about Jeffery—the things no one else could ever imagine—the sacrifices, the dangers, the burden he bore silently. Yet knowing didn't make this any easier for her.She stared into her own eyes in the mirror. The reflection was fragmented by streaks of crystal clear water, tears she hadn't stopped, mascara staining the edges of her irises. Her hands trembled slightly. The sound of the running tap filled the empty bathroom, masking the storm that raged in her mind.I can't believe it. I can't believe that my father would do such a thing—giving them the power to vote me out of the board. Everything I struggled to build... it would return to me. And I thought all this while that he'

The walls of the Stirling Enterprise had never felt more suffocating.Rita had always thought the skyscraper's glass shimmered with pride, history, and responsibility—a legacy left in her hands like a fragile crown. But today, each pane reflected something darker: anxiety, suspicion, and the thin, almost invisible line holding her world together.As she stepped into the executive lobby, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Her presence used to command respect. Today, it triggered tension. Conversations died mid-sentence. Suits shuffled away. Eyes tracked her—not with admiration, but with fear. A rumor this loud did not whisper or suspect; it screamed and accused.Her heels clicked sharply across marble that suddenly felt too loud.Screens around the lobby displayed breaking news banners in harsh reds:"New Leaked Footage Raises Questions About Jeffery Flamel.""Stirling Enterprise aunder Scrutiny.""Board Calls Emergency Meeting Amid Scandal."Rita felt the words cut through her like bla

The phone rang once. Twice. Then the line clicked."Rita?" the voice was sharp, calm, almost distant, but beneath it, she could hear the undercurrent of exhaustion—the weight of a man who carried more than anyone should."Jeffery..." she whispered, the tension in her throat cracking her voice. "I... I saw the news—about Ronan Blake—""Rita!" his voice snapped suddenly like a whip, cutting through the static of her panic. "Why the hell are you calling me? Didn't I tell you? Stay out of this! Don't reach out! It's not safe at all! You could—""I had to know," she interrupted, tears threatening to spill. "I needed to hear it from you. I couldn't just... sit there and do nothing—"His sigh was long, a mix of frustration, fear, and helplessness. "Do you even understand what you're putting yourself through? Or what you're doing to me by calling? I told you, Rita... this isn't safe. Not for you. Not for anyone. You reach out, and suddenly, you're in the line of fire."She flinched at the raw