The Long Walk Home 2:45 pm Oak-Haven Penitentiary. The prison gates shut loudly behind him, causing a flinch to course through Damien as he turned back, looking at the place that turned him into a completely different man from when he had come in three years ago. More than anything, he was happy, relieved, and grateful to be out of this place once and for all. Damien stood on the sidewalk and expelled a long, deep breath, finding himself enjoying the fresh, crisp air that cascaded over his skin. It was the first time in three years that the air didn't feel suffocating, didn't smell like the deep, putrid odor of desperate, sweaty, barely bathed inmates who had made dirt a way of life and hunger an accustomed culture. This particular air, outside of the prison wall and gate, was refreshing and welcoming, as if welcoming him to the life that awaited him. A large grin broke across Damien's face. The road was deserted; there was no one waiting to receive him for now, but it didn't

The Shadow King The rain didn't stop. It felt like the sky was trying to wash the scent of that house off Damien’s skin. Every step he took away from the Sterlings’ villa felt like a weight dropping off his shoulders, but the hole in his chest was still there. He walked down the middle of the dark, empty road. His boots were soaked, and his thin hoodie was soaked with water. He looked like a street rat and an outcast in the neighborhood. Suddenly, three cars with their bright headlights shone at him as they approached. Four massive, black SUVs rounded the corner. The cars looked very expensive. They didn't pass him; instead, they drove towards him and formed a tight circle around him. Damien stopped. He didn't flinch. He just stood there, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, watching a long, black limousine come to a halt right in front of him. The door opened. A woman stepped out; even under the heavy rain, she looked untouchable. Her black suit was perfectly tailore

The Master of ShadowsThe first thing Amelia felt was nothing, no sound; she opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the soft, warm light coming from the ceiling.She wasn't dead. She took a breath, expecting the pain in her chest, but it was gone.She sat up on a very soft sofa that made her feel warm, her hand immediately flying to her wrist. The black, spider-web veins that had been crawling up her arm were gone. Her skin was pale and clear again. She felt a slight sting where a needle had entered her arm, but the fire in her blood had vanished.She looked around the room, and her mouth fell slightly open; she had grown up around wealth, but this was different. The apartment was massive, with walls the color of charcoal and floors that shone like glass. There were no bulky decorations, just sleek furniture and glowing screens in the corner that displayed maps and numbers moving too fast for her to read."You're awake," a voice said.Amelia jumped, clutching the blanket to her ches

Seeds of DoubtThe fun in the ballroom a few minutes ago, before Damien stepped inside, was gone; the air felt heavy, like the oxygen had been sucked out of the room the moment John Miller started trembling. Every eye was on Damien, and the silence was very heavy in the room; no one knew what to believe or trust at that moment.Nicholas was the first to break it. He let out a loud, forced laugh. His face was turning to a shade of purple, something Damien had only seen on men about to have a heart attack."This is a joke, right? Some kind of sick prank?" Nicholas shouted, looking around the room for support. "John, get it together! You’re the CEO! This guy is a nobody! He’s a gardener! A thief! He’s spent the last three years eating scraps in a cell!"Chloe stepped forward, her dress dragging against the floor. Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear and pure hatred. She looked at Damien, then at Amelia, her lip curling in disgust."That’s a lie!" Chloe screamed, her voice cracking. "Dam

Beginning of The Harvest The morning sun didn't bring any light into Nicholas Pierce’s world, it seemed to taunt him, shining brightly on the failure his life had turned to overnight. By 8:00am, the Pierce Group’s stock had plummeted to another fifteen percent. The media was also having a field day, as they played clips of Nicholas’ meltdown at the gala on a log, daring to tag him as the ‘Crumbling Prince’. The comments were rolling in and bashing. Unable to take any more, an unkempt Nicholas had turned off all forms of the media world. Just the other day, he was basking in the praise for how he handled Damien; now, the same people had turned on him, calling him all sorts of unprintable names. Inside his Safe House, Damien sat behind three glowing monitors, his face reflected in them. Damien leaned back while his fingers danced across the keys synchronously. Daniel was beside him, barking orders into the headset he had on. Turning slightly with a grin, he glanced at Damien, his