Novels by Elena wang

EMILYThe morning felt as though it would never end.The heat was merciless, thick, unmoving, suffocating. Sweat coated my skin in a fine, relentless film, soaking through my clothes until the fabric clung damply to my back and waist. I had refused to braid my hair that morning, still haunted by the memory of Claire’s knife hovering far too close to it the night before. I would not give her such easy access again.But by midday I could not bear the heavy mass tumbling down my back. It felt like a blanket thrown over me. With a frustrated sigh, I twisted it up and pinned it into a coil atop my head, my arms trembling from more than just the effort.I had rolled tortillas until my shoulders burned and my wrists ached. I had chopped vegetables until the blade slipped and nicked my thumb, drawing a bright bead of blood that stung in the heat. I had baked bread until my face flushed crimson from standing too long before the oven’s blazing mouth.I was hot. I was exhausted.And I was no lon

EMILYThe door burst open and slammed against the wall so hard the sound cracked through my sleep like a gunshot.I jerked upright, my heart racing, the last threads of a dream snapping away. Morning light flooded the room in a blinding stream, pouring through the narrow window and laying gold across the rumpled bed. For one wild second I thought Julian had come storming in, temper blazing.Instead, I realized, with mortifying clarity, that I was wearing nothing but my drawers. The heat had been suffocating through the night, thick and wet, clinging to my skin like a second layer. I snatched the sheet to my throat, clutching it tight as if it were armor.Claire stood framed in the doorway.She was dressed as though she were stepping into a fiesta instead of a kitchen, she wore flaming red blouse, black skirt, and another flash of gold beneath it that caught the sun when she shifted. Pink combs speared through her dark hair like tiny weapons.“Get up!”I blinked at her, still dazed. “P

ALESSANDRO We took over the entire saloon in the south town and turned it into our headquarters.Fredrick had been paid handsomely for the inconvenience, more than handsomely and after pocketing the money, he made himself scarce. I hadn’t seen him since. Three days earlier, after we found the lame horse and the three bodies sprawled along the narrow trail that climbed into the mountains, we made the decision to stay.The scene had told its own story.The killer had positioned himself high among the boulders on the plateau overlooking the trail. From that vantage point, he had ambushed the bandits as they rode unsuspecting below. It was efficient. Ruthless. Intelligent.We couldn’t say with absolute certainty that it was Julian, but Emily and he had come this way. We knew that from the stolen horse we’d recovered earlier. It could very well have been him. And if it was, then he was proving to be far more cunning than I had given him credit for.After that, it had taken us hours to fin

EMILY I hadn't heard a single sound in the godforsaken night, so when he touched me shoulder, I jumped with а loud сrу."I didn't mean to frighten you," Julian said.It was one of the blackest nights I had ever experi-enced, the sky heavy and dark, unlit by any stars, with the giant rock walls of the valley leaning in on them, somehow making the night even darker. Yet in the murky blackness it was impossible to decide where the sky ended and the cliffs began, and I had finally gotten the fantastic impression that the two had merged and were hovering over me like a low, overburdened ceiling, threatening to cave Julian was a relief because he was real and human, yet he was the last person I wanted to be with, too. I could barely make out his form, much less his expression. Only his teeth, glimmering brightly when he spoke, and the sheen of his eyes. I stepped back. He was like an apparition, adding to the unreality I had been experiencing. He was my own private demon come to taunt me.

EMILY It seemed to me that I had been sitting on that narrow bed forever, my knees drawn up, my arms wrapped tightly around them as if I could hold myself together by sheer force. My hair had long since dried. Outside, the sun was sinking, slipping away beyond sight.At some point, I had stopped trying to untangle my thoughts. They had become too tortured, too confused, knotted tighter than my braid. Not thinking was a relief. So I sat with my back against the wall, facing the bolted door, emptied out, exhausted in a way that went far beyond sore muscles and bruised skin. I felt like a shell of myself.I turned my head to watch the sunset through the open window, craving even that small comfort. But I could not see it. Of course I could not. The monstrous yellow walls of this dreadful valley swallowed everything, monopolizing the view. The light dimmed rapidly anyway. Soon it would be night.Then the smell reached me.Rich, spicy stew. Fresh tortillas frying. The scent drifted throug

EMILY A heavy wooden table stood on the far side of the room, benches flanking it and a single chair at its head. It, too, was crowded with dirty dishes and glasses.Voices drifted from what must have been the kitchen. I followed them and paused in the doorway.Claire and a large, older woman bustled about, clearly preparing a meal. Vegetables, flour, meat, pots, pans and everything was spread across counters and a rough worktable that dominated the room.They both stopped to stare at me.I let them look. I lifted my chin and affected an indifference I did not feel. I could smell myself. I could imagine the grime on my face. The older woman smiled faintly and returned to her work.Claire did not.I watched her rage bloom like a poisonous flower. She gripped a cleaver and brought it down on the table with a violent crack. I jumped despite myself.This woman is capable of hurting her enemies, I thought. And you are her enemy.“Julian said you would give me clothes,” I said coolly. “And