Novels by Torque Stone

Bonus Chapter — Domenik’s POV: She was still trembling when I let her go. Not from cold. Not from fear. From something worse. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes — wide and burning. Her pulse thudded beneath the skin of her throat like it was counting down to something. Something final. And when I stepped back, she didn’t slap me. She didn’t run. She just looked at me like I’d cracked something inside her. And I had. The chamber was thick with heat. Red lights stuttered against steel. The sirens had stopped, but the silence they left behind was louder. Too loud. I could still feel her body against mine, the way her hands curled into my coat. She wasn’t fighting. Not really. She wanted it. She wanted me. And that was the danger. Because now? So did I. Lucianus stared at me from the glass wall. Not truly there — just the version of him I kept in reflections. In memory. The voice that never leaves. “You broke the law,” he whispered. “You let her in.” I sat. Hard. Fingers p

Smoke bled from the vault’s cracks, black and thick as sin. Eirwen shoved her back against the cold marble, heart hammering out a war drum, gun slick in her grip. Behind her, Domenik crushed a wolf’s windpipe, the kill quick and mean. The last echoes of Marsel’s laughter faded as he bled out on the stone, eyes defiant to the end.The city’s alarms wailed. The Tower trembled like it was alive, or dying.Domenik wiped blood from his mouth, eyes fixed on Eirwen—not soft, not safe, but starved. He crossed the smoking vault, his steps all purpose and threat.She didn’t run. Didn’t speak. Just stood her ground as he caged her in, his body blocking out the ruin behind him. His hands were still shaking with violence when he caught her chin, forced her to look up.“You wanted to burn it down?” His voice was ragged, still raw from fighting. “This is what it costs.”Eirwen swallowed smoke and pride. “Then pay up.”He slammed her against the wall, mouth on hers before the words had cooled. The ki

The vault wasn’t a room. It was a tomb.Eirwen stepped inside first, gun up, the scent of scorched paper and ancient secrets clawing at her nerves. Domenik was a shadow at her back, his presence like a brand between her shoulder blades—familiar, dangerous, hers.The doors sealed with a hiss. For a moment, it was just silence. And then—A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the chamber.Marsel Dáinn leaned against the far wall, flanked by two wolves in bone-white armor, maskless, eyes hungry. Blood dripped from Marsel’s sleeve, but his smile was intact—feral and welcoming. “I knew you’d come, Crown. You never could let go of a secret.”Domenik aimed, but Eirwen caught his arm. “Don’t waste the bullet. He’s already dead.”Marsel’s gaze flicked to her. “You always were sharper than the rest, Nyra.” He held up a data drive, silver and blood-streaked. “Looking for this? Or for absolution?”Domenik’s voice was smoke and violence. “I came to bury you.”Marsel laughed. “You already did. Year

Blood painted the vault doors in streaks, still wet, still steaming. The alarms had gone guttural—less warning, more war cry. Domenik pushed Eirwen ahead, boots crunching glass, the scent of ozone and gunpowder clinging to every breath.No more lovers. No more enemies. Only survivors and the dead.Ash waited at the end of the corridor, one arm strapped tight to his ribs, crimson soaking through his shirt. His eyes tracked Domenik, Eirwen, then the chaos behind them. “They’ve breached the eastern wing. We’re boxed in.”“Boxed in isn’t dead,” Eirwen said, voice flat, flicking her safety off.A fresh scream ricocheted from the stairwell. Caelan stumbled out, blood slick on his hands, eyes blown wide. He dropped to his knees before Domenik. “They took the lower vault. The Várgr—they’re not here for the data. They’re hunting you.”Domenik looked past him. “How many?”“Too many.” Caelan’s mouth trembled. “But I—I bought us a minute. Locked the override behind me. They’ll burn through it, bu

🖋️ No More GodsOutside, alarms howled. Inside, the only noise was ragged breath and the pulse of blood against stone.Domenik tasted Eirwen’s mouth like a promise he intended to keep—bruising, demanding, his hands mapping her as if every inch was a battlefield and he refused to surrender an inch.She met him, teeth and nails, giving as good as she got. The strategist’s broken body between them was just another warning: this was not a house for mercy. This was survival, lust, and the violent intimacy of people who’d chosen ruin over safety.He pressed her back against the war table, maps scattering to the floor. The city’s future, smeared with blood and sweat.“You wanted the truth,” he growled against her ear, fingers slipping beneath the armor of her coat. “Now hold onto it.”She arched into him, her laugh edged with hunger. “Control is dead, Crown. All that’s left is appetite.”He pinned her wrists above her head, grip bruising. “You don’t get to walk away from this.”She bit his

🖋️ Loyalty in PiecesThe strategist never bleeds in public.Alec Vance stood in the war room, hands folded behind his back, suit pressed sharp as a razor, the lion ring heavy on his finger. Monitors flickered—schematics, kill-lists, the Tower’s dying heartbeat pulsing in red.He didn’t look up when Domenik entered. Didn’t have to. The air shifted with him, every shadow drawn tighter.Eirwen slid in at Domenik’s side, gun hidden beneath her new coat, eyes dark as old wounds.“Alec,” Domenik said. No title. No warmth.Alec smiled, wolfish. “You found my present in the vault, I take it?”“You betrayed your oath,” Domenik said.Alec’s smile widened, hungry. “You broke it first. The day you let her in.” His gaze cut to Eirwen. “You let a ghost in your house and wonder why the dead keep walking.”Eirwen spoke before Domenik could. “Your war’s over, Vance. You’re just waiting to see who cleans up the bodies.”Alec’s eyes lingered on her, cold and clinical. “And what are you, Cayde? The reas