Novels by Author Writz

VANESSA'S POVI made it to my car before the shaking started.My hands were trembling so badly I dropped my keys twice before I managed to unlock the door. Once inside, I gripped the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe.Forty-eight hours.Damien had given me forty-eight hours to prove I wasn't a traitor. To find out who was feeding information to Marcus Kane. To save my own skin.If only he knew the truth.My phone buzzed. I didn't need to look to know who it was, but I checked anyway.Dad: I saw the little show Damien put on. Very dramatic. I hope you're not getting any ideas about confessing.My stomach twisted. I typed back with shaking fingers.Me: He gave me 48 hours to find the leak. What am I supposed to do?The response came immediately.Dad: Find someone expendable and throw them to the wolves. Literally. You've always been good at self-preservation, Vanessa. Don't disappoint me now.I stared at the message until my vision blurred.This was my father. The man who'd ra

I didn't actually sleep. How could I? I sat on my couch with every light in the apartment blazing, my phone clutched in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other—like that would do anything against werewolves—listening to the sounds of the city outside. Damien had stayed on the phone with me until the howling stopped. Then he'd texted every thirty minutes to make sure I was okay. The last message came at 4:47 AM: Damien: I'm outside. Not leaving. Try to get some rest. I looked out my window—carefully, without opening the curtains much—and sure enough, his black SUV was parked directly across from my building. I could see his silhouette in the driver's seat, phone glowing in the darkness. He'd actually come back. And he was staying. Something warm and complicated twisted in my chest. By the time my alarm went off at six-thirty, I'd maybe dozed for an hour. I felt like death, looked worse, and my hands were still shaking when I tried to do my makeup. My car. I needed to

The claws were what got me. Not the glowing eyes—I'd been seeing those for days. Not the fangs, which looked like they could tear through steel. It was the claws, wickedly sharp and utterly real, extending from fingers that had been perfectly human thirty seconds ago. My knees buckled. Damien was moving before I hit the ground, catching me with those same clawed hands that should have terrified me but were somehow gentle. He lowered me into a chair, his partially shifted form crouched in front of me at eye level. "Breathe," he said, and his voice was different—deeper, rougher, like gravel wrapped in silk. "Maya, you need to breathe." I sucked in air, my vision tunneling. "You have claws." "Yes." "And fangs." "Yes." "Because you're a werewolf." "Yes." He said it so calmly, like we were discussing the weather instead of the complete destruction of everything I thought I knew about reality. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to force my brain to work. "This is

I didn't sleep that night.How could I? I'd heard a howl. An actual, honest-to-God howl coming from inside a corporate office building in downtown Seattle."It was probably a video someone was watching," I told myself for the hundredth time as I stared at my bedroom ceiling. "Or a ringtone. Or a prank. Or literally anything other than an actual wolf in a skyscraper."But I couldn't shake the memory of Damien's face when he'd told me the building wasn't safe after dark. The way he'd moved—too fast, too fluid. The way his eyes had flashed gold.The way he'd said "what's mine" like he had any right to claim me.I rolled over and grabbed my phone. Three AM. I had to be back at the office in five hours.Against my better judgment, I opened Google and typed: "Damien Sterling Seattle."The results were... sparse. Which was weird for a billionaire CEO. There were business articles about Sterling Industries' acquisitions, a few photos from charity galas where Damien looked bored in a tuxedo, a

I was still thinking about that handshake three days later. Which was insane, because it was just a handshake. People shook hands all the time. It was literally the most normal thing in the world. You meet someone, you shake their hand, you move on with your life. You don't spend the entire weekend replaying the moment in your head like some kind of crazy person. "Earth to Maya." My best friend Jess waved a hand in front of my face. "You've been staring at that coffee cup for like five minutes. What's going on with you?" We were at our usual Sunday brunch spot, a little café in Capitol Hill that made amazing avocado toast and didn't judge you for ordering mimosas before noon. I'd been trying to tell Jess about the job offer for the past twenty minutes, but my brain kept getting stuck on stupid details. Like how Damien Sterling's hand had been warm. Really warm. And how his eyes had done that weird flash thing that I was ninety percent sure I'd imagined. And how he'd sa

The man sitting across from me was either going to hire me or murder me, and honestly, the way this week was going, I wasn't sure which I'd prefer. "Ms. Chen," Damien Sterling said, his voice doing that thing where it was somehow smooth and commanding at the same time, "tell me why you're really here." I gripped my Target portfolio tighter and tried not to stare at his eyes. Because seriously, what kind of person had eyes that color? They were amber—like actual liquid gold—and they were currently boring into me like he could see every lie I'd ever told. Including the one I was about to tell him. "I'm interested in the Senior Marketing Manager position," I said, proud that my voice only shook a little. "Sterling Industries has an impressive reputation for innovation, and I believe my experience at Morrison & Associates would—" "Your ex-boyfriend just got engaged." I choked on air. Actual air. "I—what?" Damien leaned back in his chair, and I couldn't help but notice how th