Novels by Ella

CARSONI stayed.Even after Anna’s eyes closed again, even after the tension in the room softened into something quieter, I didn’t move from the chair beside her bed. The hospital lights hummed faintly overhead, and the steady beeping of the monitor filled the spaces where neither of us spoke.I told myself I was staying because she was sick.That was the excuse.The truth was simpler and more dangerous—I didn’t want to leave things unfinished.Her lashes fluttered, and a moment later, her eyes opened.“You’re still here,” she said, her voice rough with sleep and fever.“Yes.”“You don’t have to be.”“I know.”She studied me for a few seconds, then sighed. “You’re stubborn.”I huffed quietly. “That’s one word for it.”She shifted, adjusting the pillow behind her head. The movement cost her more effort than she wanted to admit, and I hated that I noticed every small sign of strain.“Carson,” she said after a moment.“Yes?”“There’s something I need to ask you.”I straightened slightly.

CARSONFor the first time since I’d walked into the hospital room, I had nothing to say.Anna lay there staring at me, her face pale against the white sheets, eyes sharp despite the fever still dragging her down. The machines kept beeping around us, steady and uncaring, like they weren’t witnessing the moment something fragile finally shattered.“That’s what you texted Eleanor,” she said quietly. “Isn’t it?”My throat went dry.I opened my mouth, then closed it again.She noticed. Of course she did.“Say something,” she said. “Or don’t. But don’t stand there pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”“I—” I exhaled slowly. “What are you talking about?”Her lips curved into a hollow smile. “You’re really going to make me say it?”“I need you to,” I said. “Because I don’t understand how we got here.”Her gaze dropped to the blanket covering her legs. “I stayed late that night.”My chest tightened.“The night after the client meeting,” she continued. “I was finishing the report y

ANNAI woke up slowly.Not the jolt-out-of-your-skin kind of waking, but the gradual return to awareness that came with heaviness in my limbs and a dull ache behind my eyes. Everything felt thick, muffled, like I was moving through water.The first thing I noticed was the smell—clean, sharp, sterile.Hospital.The second thing I noticed was the beeping.Soft. Rhythmic. Annoyingly persistent.I frowned and tried to move, immediately regretting it when a wave of dizziness washed over me. My arm felt strange—tight, tethered. I turned my head slightly and saw the IV line taped to my skin.“Oh,” I murmured.“So you’re awake.”The voice came from my right.I turned my head again.Carson was sitting beside the bed.Not standing. Not hovering awkwardly by the door. Sitting—close enough that his knee brushed the side of the mattress, his suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, sleeves rolled up to his forearms like he’d been there a while.For a second, my brain refused to process it.“

CARSONThe drive to the hospital was a blur of red lights and clenched teeth.Anna was unconscious beside me, her head tilted toward the window, breath shallow enough that I checked it every few seconds just to make sure she was still breathing. One hand stayed on the steering wheel. The other hovered uselessly between us, as if touching her too much might somehow make things worse.“Come on,” I muttered, pressing harder on the accelerator when the light ahead turned yellow. “Come on.”My phone vibrated against the console.I ignored it.It vibrated again.Ignored.I didn’t need to look to know who it was—Eleanor, the board, probably Grace already panicking about optics and protocol and liability. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the fact that Anna was burning up and unresponsive in my passenger seat because someone couldn’t control their temper.The hospital sign came into view like a goddamn lifeline.I pulled up to the emergency entrance, tires screeching just

CARSONEleanor was talking.I was only half listening.She sat perched on the edge of my desk, one leg crossed over the other, her heel dangling lazily as she spoke about some gallery opening she wanted me to attend with her that weekend. Her voice was smooth, practiced—pleasant background noise I’d learned to tune out when my mind was elsewhere.Which it was.My gaze drifted, unbidden, toward the glass wall of my office. The floor outside buzzed with the usual low hum of work—keyboards, phones, muted conversations. Normal. Predictable.Yet something in my chest felt tight, restless.“—and honestly,” Eleanor continued, rolling her eyes, “if I have to smile at one more pretentious art critic—Carson?”I looked back at her. “Hmm?”“You’re not listening,” she said, lips curving into a familiar pout.“I am,” I lied easily. “You were saying something about wine and suffering.”She laughed, swatting my arm lightly. “You’re impossible.”Before I could respond, a sharp sound cut through the ai

ANNAI woke up feeling like I’d been scraped hollow and put back together wrong.My body ached in that deep, heavy way that made even breathing feel like effort. My throat burned, dry and raw, every swallow sharp enough to make me wince. When I opened my eyes, the light slicing through the gap in my curtains felt brutal, like punishment. My head throbbed in slow, deliberate pulses, each one reminding me I hadn’t slept so much as drifted in and out of consciousness.For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling.I felt… empty. Not numb exactly—more like everything had been wrung out of me the night before, leaving only exhaustion behind. My chest still felt tight, but the sharp sting of last night had dulled into something heavier and colder.I swung my legs over the side of the couch and immediately regretted it.The room tilted, my vision going spotty for a second. I grabbed the armrest and waited for the dizziness to pass, breathing slowly through my nose. My sweater f

The rain slowed first.Not stopped. Just thinned, like the sky itself was reconsidering how much pressure it wanted to apply. Water slid down the machines’ armored frames in steady rivulets, pooling at their feet, steaming faintly where heat met cold. The smell of wet concrete and burnt metal hung low, thick enough to taste.No one spoke.Not the soldiers who had powered down their weapons. Not the operatives pressed against cover with eyes too wide and fingers still trembling. Not the people watching from screens across the city, breath caught somewhere between awe and fear.I felt hollowed out. Not empty. More like something had been carved away and the space left behind was still deciding what it would become.Adrian did not let go of me. His arm was firm around my back, anchoring me in a way words could not. Every now and then his thumb pressed lightly into my side, a silent check. Are you here. Are you breathing. Are you still you.“Yes,” I murmured without looking at him. “I’m s

The first shot wasn’t fired in anger.It was fired in fear.A sharp crack split the air from somewhere beyond the perimeter, too fast, too sudden, and every instinct in my body screamed at once. People ducked. Weapons came up. Someone shouted a command that collided with another command and turned into noise.The machines reacted before anyone finished breathing.Not by attacking.By stepping forward.Concrete groaned as several of them shifted into a defensive arc, massive frames interlocking just enough to form a wall between the bay and the city beyond. Sensors flared. The hum deepened. Not louder. Denser. Like pressure building behind a dam.“Hold your fire,” Seraphine barked, voice slicing through the panic. “Nobody shoots. Nobody moves.”Too late for that.Outside, boots pounded. Vehicles screeched. Floodlights swept the open yard like frantic fingers searching for something to grab onto. The world had arrived, and it did not know how to behave without permission.Adrian’s hand

The first thing I noticed was how quiet it suddenly felt inside me.Not outside. Outside was chaos. Sirens still clawed at the air in the distance, helicopters slicing through low clouds, rain beginning to fall in thin, sharp needles that stung my skin and soaked into the dust on the concrete floor.But inside me.Something had gone still.The machines stood where they were, unmoving now, massive silhouettes framed by broken walls and flashing lights. They weren’t advancing. They weren’t retreating. They were waiting.For once, so was I.Adrian shifted beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his arm through my sleeve. His presence grounded me in a way nothing else could. Not the machines. Not the power humming through the air. Not the eyes of the world watching through a thousand different screens.“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, low enough that only I could hear.I exhaled slowly. “If I stop thinking, something breaks.”He didn’t argue. He just stayed.Seraph

The scream did not come from a person.It came from the city.A low, widening howl rolled across the skyline, sirens collapsing into each other, alarms tripping in waves as if the infrastructure itself had flinched. Lights surged, died, surged again. Somewhere far beyond the broken roof, traffic froze mid motion, trains locked on their rails, signals stuttering like a heart missing beats.I felt it in my bones before anyone spoke.The machines had moved past listening.They had begun answering.The hum thickened until it was no longer sound but pressure, a presence that pressed against my chest and crawled up my spine. Every sensor on their armored frames pulsed in synchronized rhythm, a slow, deliberate cadence that felt less like code and more like breath.Seraphine swore softly beside me. Not fear. Awe sharpened into dread.“This is bigger than containment,” she said. “This is systemic.”The decision stood very still inside the ring of steel and concrete cracks, face pale now, lips

The machines did not look at the sky for long.They looked at me.That awareness slid under my skin, unsettling and electric, like standing too close to exposed wiring. The hum changed pitch, subtle but intentional, and the pressure in the bay shifted again, not heavier this time, but focused. As if the air itself had decided where it belonged.The decision noticed.Their breath hitched, just barely. A human slip. The kind that came when calculations stopped lining up.“This is not loyalty,” they said, voice tight now. “It is misidentification.”“Keep telling yourself that,” I replied. My mouth was dry. My heart was loud. “You built them to recognize authority. You just assumed it would always be you.”The first machine straightened fully. The others followed, towering now, armored silhouettes blotting out what remained of the ceiling lights. Sensors pulsed in slow, synchronized rhythms, like a shared heartbeat.Seraphine shifted closer to me. “If they turn,” she murmured, “there will

The shadow did not rush.That was the worst part.It moved with deliberate patience, sliding across the fractured roof like it owned the night, blotting out floodlights one by one until the loading bay sank into a bruised half dark. The low hum thickened, vibrating through my ribs, through my teeth, through the metal under my boots. Not aircraft. Not drones. Something heavier. Purpose built.Seraphine’s hand tightened on her weapon. “All units, cover. Eyes up.”No one argued. People scattered with practiced efficiency, pressing into cover that suddenly felt very small. Cameras kept rolling anyway, feeds jittering as operators tried and failed to stabilize them. The world was still watching, even as the sky leaned closer.The decision looked pleased.That realization hit me like ice water.“This was always your escalation,” I said. “You never planned to walk out.”They did not deny it. “Contingencies exist for moments when exposure becomes inconvenient.”“Inconvenient,” Adrian repeated