Novels by Beyond Writes

TAKEN ABACKThe house was beginning to stir — faint sounds of the staff downstairs, soft light creeping through the drawn curtains. Savannah sat at the edge of the bed, her hands absently tracing the seam of the blanket Mrs. Kent had made. She’d been up for hours, the taste of unease still sharp in her throat.Javyn emerged from the adjoining room, still in a loose gray shirt, his hair damp from the shower. He paused when he saw her expression — that faraway, guarded look she wore when something weighed too heavy to say out loud.“You didn’t sleep,” he said softly, coming closer.Savannah shook her head. “Not really.”He sat beside her, the mattress dipping slightly. “Is it the nausea again?”“No.” Her voice was quieter than a whisper. “It’s Zayn.”Javyn frowned. “Zayn?”Savannah hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “He’s been… different. Since your mother arrived.”Javyn’s eyes sharpened, the calm in them slipping into a wary edge. “Different how?”She exhaled slowly, searching for w

SHE RETURNSThe LA estate loomed in silence when Zayn arrived. The long driveway shimmered under dusk, lights cutting through the palm-lined path like quiet beacons leading him home — though it didn’t feel like home anymore.Inside, the air was thick with the scent of fresh paint and the ghosts of the past. Boxes were stacked near the foyer — signs of a life hastily transplanted.Somewhere deeper in the house, he could hear Savannah’s low voice, the faint hum of a kettle, the distant echo of calm she was forcing herself to hold onto.He took a breath and pushed forward.Javyn stood in the living room, sleeves rolled up, going through files spread across the marble table — security reports, estate documents, a few photos of men Zayn recognized from the field. He looked up as the door clicked shut.“You made it,” Javyn said. Relief flashed in his eyes before the usual controlled calm took over. “Good. We’ve got work to do.”Zayn managed a nod. “Always do.”His tone was even, but inside

LAST GLANCEThe morning came too soon. The airport was a blur of rolling suitcases, announcements, and sterile light. Jada moved through it all like a ghost — one hand clutching her boarding pass, the other tugging her small carry-on behind her. Celia walked a few paces ahead, phone pressed to her ear, voice clipped and composed as always.Everything felt like it was happening around Jada, not to her. The ticket agent smiled. The line shuffled forward.The world kept spinning — but her heart was still somewhere between New York and Los Angeles, caught in the hollow space Zayn’s silence had left.She checked her phone again. No new messages.When she finally looked up, her breath caught.Across the crowded terminal, near the security checkpoint, stood a man — tall, broad-shouldered, head tilted in that familiar way. For one dizzy heartbeat, she knew it was him. Zayn. He had come.Her pulse quickened, hands trembling as she whispered, “Mom, I’ll be right back,” before Celia could res

BE SAFEZayn moved through the house like a shadow, methodical and restless. Every task should’ve been mechanical — calls to make, names to trust, protocols to enforce.Yet every click of his phone, every soft hum of the security monitors, felt like a whisper from another life.Her life.Jada’s laughter still lived in the edges of his mind — the way she teased him when he forgot to smile, the defiant spark in her eyes when she challenged him to be more than Javyn’s right hand.He passed by a half-open door and stopped. Savannah’s scarf — a pale cream one she’d left draped over a chair — caught the light just right, fluttering like the one Jada wore that night in the rain when they first kissed. He froze, the air thick with ghosts he had no right to remember.He pushed forward, trying to drown the noise in action. He checked the perimeters again, verified the security feeds, and reached out to old contacts he hadn’t spoken to since his father’s days in service. “I need reliable men,” h

BREWING REBELLIONUpstairs, the house was still, but Mia’s thoughts were anything but. She folded a silk blouse into the suitcase with mechanical precision, though her mind wasn’t on the task.She had been in this family’s home long enough to know when something was wrong. Tonight, everything screamed of secrets—the hushed phone call Celia had taken, the order to pack at once, the tension that pulsed like static through the walls.And then there was Jada.She most definitely had someone in mind when the plan to have her go abroad for schooling was mentioned, someone she was fond of, someone her heart ached for.Her hands stilled over the suitcase. Could it be Zayn?The thought struck like lightning. Mia had noticed the softness in Jada’s eyes whenever Zayn was mentioned, the unspoken ache that lingered between them. And if Jada had secretly reached out to him, it meant cracks were widening in Celia’s control.Mia glanced at the small bottle of pills she’d tucked away earlier, evidence

REBELLIONJada lingered by the edge of the couch, watching her mother closely. The way Celia smoothed her hair, the way her fingers wouldn’t leave the phone, it all screamed of something slipping.“Mother…” Jada said slowly, her words tasting like rebellion on her tongue. “For someone who claims to be in control of everything, you don’t seem very… in control right now.”The remark hung in the air, sharp and dangerous.Celia’s eyes snapped to her daughter, the mask of composure freezing into place. But Jada didn’t back down—she tilted her chin, waiting for an answer, watching every flicker across her mother’s face.Before Celia could strike back, her gaze slid past Jada. On the staircase landing, Mia was caught mid-step, tray in hand, eyes a little too wide.The silence stretched for a beat. Then, Celia’s voice cut through like glass.“Mia.”The maid stiffened. “Yes, Ma’am?”“Pack our bags. We’re leaving for Los Angeles.”Jada’s head whipped around. “LA? You mean…”“No questions,” Cel