Novels by Author Writz

MAYA'S POVMarcus said the name the way people said things they'd been carrying too long: not dramatically, not with the weight of a reveal, just flatly, the relief of finally setting something down."James."The room held it for a moment; then I watched Damien's face do something I'd never seen it do before, not the controlled stillness he used for difficult news, not the Alpha composure he used for threats, something older and more personal, the expression of a man understanding that someone he'd trusted at close range for years had been working against him with the intimacy that only proximity allows."Walk me through it," Damien said, and his voice was so level it was its own kind of frightening.Marcus looked at him with the careful attention of someone who'd decided to tell the truth and was committed to doing it thoroughly. "He came to me three years ago, through legitimate business channels; we were negotiating a territory boundary dispute and he reached out as Damien's financ

MAYA'S POVI found Sophie before Damien went to his pack, which was the right order of operations; walking into that floor with Victor's accusation still sitting unexamined in my chest would have made me less useful to everyone including myself."Victor told me to ask you who you called the night the bond completed," I said. "And who picked up."Sophie looked at me with the expression of someone who'd been expecting this question and was relieved it had finally arrived. "Reed," she said simply. "I called Reed because he was the only person I knew with direct historical knowledge of your bloodline and I needed someone who could tell me whether what happened to you was survivable before I went back upstairs and told Damien." She held my gaze steadily. "Reed picked up. That's the call. Thirty seconds, maybe forty; I asked if it was possible for a human to survive full pack bond contact and he said he needed to run tests and I said run them fast."I stood with that for a moment, feeling t

MAYA'S POV He was in conference room three on the eighth floor, sitting with his hands wrapped around a paper cup of coffee that had gone cold, and he looked up when I opened the door with the expression of a man who'd been rehearsing this moment and found that rehearsal hadn't prepared him at all. I sat down across from him and didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at him: the father who'd driven me to school and made terrible pancakes on Sunday mornings and told me my mother was gone in the careful voice of someone who'd decided which version of the truth was survivable, and who had spent the last two years consulting for the organization that killed her. "You came with them," I said. "I came after them," he said. "There's a difference." "Tell me the difference." He set the cup down and looked at me with the eyes I'd inherited, the same shape, the same tendency to go very still when processing something difficult. "I found out this morning that Morrow was coming here di

MAYA'S POV Victor Wolfe and Cael Morrow walking into Sterling Industries together told me everything about how badly I'd misread the architecture of this situation. I'd been thinking of them as separate problems: Victor the internal threat, Morrow the external one, Marcus the territorial complication sitting somewhere between both. Seeing them arrive together collapsed that entire framework in about four seconds, and what replaced it was considerably less manageable. "They came through the front entrance," Sophie said, appearing in the doorway still holding her phone. "Didn't try to hide it, didn't use a side entrance, walked straight to reception and asked for you specifically." She looked at Damien. "Not you. Maya." Damien was already moving. "Don't," I said. He stopped and looked at me. "They came through the front," I said, pulling on a shirt and reaching for my shoes with the specific efficiency of someone who'd stopped having the luxury of moving slowly. "In broad daylight

MAYA'S POV I asked the question before I'd fully decided to ask it, in the dark, while the city was still quiet and Damien was warm beside me and everything felt temporarily manageable: "If I can influence pack bonds without knowing it, have I been doing it already?" He didn't answer immediately, which was its own kind of answer. "Sophie thinks it started around three weeks ago," he said finally. "Around the time the bond completed." "That's not what I asked." He turned his head and looked at me in the low light, and I looked back, and the question sitting between us was the most uncomfortable one we'd had yet: not about the Accord or Nadia or coordinates or bloodlines, but about the specific and personal thing, whether what existed between us was entirely his or whether some of it had been shaped by something I was doing without knowing. "I've thought about it," he said. "Since Sophie told you last night I've been sitting with it." A pause. "What I feel for you doesn't fee

MAYA'S POV Patricia Ford had given me a lanyard on my first morning at Sterling Industries, walked me through the building with a warm smile and careful attention, warned me about the executive floor with the tone of someone who genuinely wanted me to succeed here; and for nine weeks I'd filed her away as one of the few uncomplicated things in a very complicated situation. Reed called at seven in the morning and the name he gave Damien was hers. I was in the kitchen when it happened, coffee in hand, and I watched Damien's face do that thing where it went very still in a specific way, and I set my cup down before he'd said a single word to me. "How long," Damien said into the phone, not a question exactly, the tone of someone confirming arithmetic they'd already done. A pause. "Eighteen months." Another pause, longer. "Don't let her leave the building." He hung up and looked at me. "Patricia Ford," I said. "Yes." "She's been there since before I arrived." "Eighteen months," he