Novels by MM de Wet

“Hey, Anna,” Zack says softly, waiting for her to look up before continuing. “Thanks. For earlier. And for breakfast.” It is a rare moment of vulnerability for him, stripped of all the usual posturing and bravado. He does not linger on it, though– he opens the motel room door and steps out into the hallway, his voice returning to its casual confident tone. The sunlight hits him hard, making him squint for a second. “Earlier?” she asks as she rushes to join him. “What part?” Zack stops in the hallway, turning to face her with a half-smile that is more amused than anything else. He can see genuine confusion in her brown eyes, and it makes him want to laugh. “Everything,” he says simply, his voice dropping low. “The way you looked at me. The way you said my name. All of it.”Zack reaches out, his hand finding the small of Anna’s back and pulling her just a little closer as they head toward the stairs. “Don’t act like you do not know exactly what I am talking about, Anna,” he teases, his g

“If you are so worried about making a mess, maybe you should sit on the floor like a kid,” Anna joked before taking a bite of pancake herself. Zack nearly chokes on the pancake in his mouth, a startled laugh breaking through his throat. He points his fork at her, his dark green eyes sparkling with mick indignation. “Sit on the floor? Like a kid?” he repeats, shaking his head. “You are lucky you are cute, Anna, because that is low even for you.” He takes another bite, chewing slowly as he watches her eat. The morning light is getting stronger now, filling the room with a warm, golden glow that makes everything feel softer, more real. The tension from his dream has completely dissipated, replaced by this easy, domestic rhythm.“And for the record,” Zack adds, his voice dropping into that lazy, confident drawl again. “I do not act like a kid. I am a grown man. I deserve a seat.” He nudges Anna’s shoulder with his own, a gentle, affectionate gesture that says more than his words ever could

“What did you get us?” Zack asked hoping to distract her. “Pancakes. They did not have blueberry pancakes,” Anna said as she moved to place the white paper bag on the bedside table and then turning to him, cupping his cheek. He leans into her touch instinctively, his eyes closing as his palm rests against his cheek. The warmth of her hand is grounding, pulling him further away from the coldness of his dream and back into the reality of this room, this morning. “Blueberry or not, I am not complaining,” he murmurs, his voice low and sleepy. He reaches up, covering her hand with his own, pressing her palm more firmly against his face. He does not care about the pancakes right now. He just wants to stay in this moment, where the only thing that matters is the weight of her hand and the way she looks at him like he is something worth keeping.“You are too good to me, Anna,” Zack said, opening his green eyes to look at her. There is no sarcasm in it, no bravado. Just a quiet, honest admissio

A dream settles over Zack, quiet and suffocating, like frost creeping across the glass. He is small again and the world is too big, the house too hollow. Even the air feels wrong, as if something essential is missing. The warmth that once lived in the walls is gone, replaced by a thin, biting cold that seeps into his skin and stays there. He wakes in the darkness. For a moment, there is nothing– just the faint hum of the house, the distant creak of settling wood. Then he hears it. A noise downstairs. Soft. Irregular. Real. Hope ignites in him so fast it almost hurts. He is out of his car shaped bed before the thought can catch up to him, bare feet hitting the hardwood with small, quick slaps. He does not feel the cold floor. He does not feel anything except that fragile, desperate certainty blooming in his chest.It is her. It has to be. Mom? The word rises, but it never makes it out. it sticks somewhere deep, like even now he knows better than to say it out loud– because saying it mig

In the background the movie comes to an end and the song ‘Let it show! Let it snow! Let it snow!’ starts playing:Oh, the weather outside is frightful. But the fire, it’s so delightful. And since we’ve no place to go. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!“God,” Zack breathes out, the word barely a whisper. His voice is completely drained, stripped of all its usual edge. He does not pull away. Instead, he shifts slightly, rolling onto his side and pulling Anna with him so she is tucked against his chest. “That was…” she began and took a sharp breath. His chest is still rising and falling in heavy, uneven beats. He does not move, just lies there with his arm draped heavily over her waist, his fingers tracing idle, lazy patterns against her skin. The intensity of those last few minutes has left him physically drained, but his mind is still buzzing, still reeling from the sheer closeness of it. He turns his head slightly, his chin brushing against the top of her hair.Man, it doesn’t sho

Anna moaned as Zack rubbed against her from behind. The sound of her moan– soft, breathless, and entirely unguarded– hits him like a physical weight. His jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together as he fights the urge to lose that promised control. “You sound so good,” he rasps, his voice barely a whisper against her skin. “Do that again.” He does not rush. He keeps his movements slow and deliberate, just like he promised, but the rhythm is heavy, intentional. His hands stay anchored on her hips, guiding her, keeping her steady as he maintains that agonizingly slow friction. His other hand reaches around, fingers splaying across her stomach, pulling her back against him so there is no space left between them. He can feel every vibration of her moan through his own chest.“I have got you, just breathe. I am right here.” Zack murmurs, his lips grazing her shoulder blade. “Ah, God. Zack,” Anna moaned sweetly. “I want you inside me.” The way she says his name– not like a challenge, not lik

The car door shuts with a solid thud, sealing them back into their private bubble. Oliver starts the engine, the familiar hum of the vehicle acting as a buffer against the city noise outside. “So,” he says, pulling away from the curb. “The plan is in motion. You are going to charm the girlfriend of the most temperamental department head in the company, and I am going to pretend Seraphina does not exist for eight hours.” He glances at her briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Between your plan and mine, I think we might actually survive this week without anyone getting fired. Or at least, not us.” He turns onto the main road, his driving smooth and methodical. The morning sun is beginning to climb higher, casting long shadows across the dashboard.“You are the boss,” Harper said with a light laugh. “You would really fire yourself?” Oliver lets out a short, genuine laugh, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing just a

Marius smiled, but the thought of her adding her own touch to his sterile apartment actually made him feel a strange, quiet warmth. It was an intrusion he found himself wanting. “But if you really want to, I suppose I could tolerate one small painting. Somewhere inconspicuous. Like the hallway, where no one will notice it but us.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, the warmth spreading through his chest. “Thought knowing you, ‘small’ is a relative term. You will probably end up painting the entire living room a shade of sunset orange.” The omelette on his place gradually became smaller on his place, while his coffee disappeared a little at a time between each satisfying bite. “Oh, I am playing the long game darling,” Tera said with a light playful smirk, only scattered crumbs and a thin smear of avocado remained on the plate. “By the time walls get painted, you will not be able to life without me.” She took one final sip of

Without fully straightening, she shifted her weight and turned toward the Marius. She raised the second plate slightly to keep it level, then brought it across the table. His bacon and cheese omelette was folded into a thick golden crescent, its surface lightly browned from the pan. Crisp pieces of bacon were visible along the edges, while melted cheese softened the centre, with a little golden cheese stretching where the omelette had been folded. Beside it sat a small portion of breakfast potatoes and a few slices of tomato, adding contrasting colours to the plate. The waitress lowered the omelette onto the table with both hands, setting it down gently before releasing the plate. She glanced between the two dishes to make sure everything was positioned properly, then straightened and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. After giving the customers, a brief, friendly smile, she stepped backward from the table, allowing them room to begin eating.The warm dishes remain

“Using the secretary as a buffer,” Oliver says, shaking his head with quiet amusement. “That is incredibly efficient. And bringing Knox along as a distraction? That is just tactical warfare, Harper.” He takes another bite of his burrito, thoroughly enjoying the way her mind works. A little sauce appeared on his fingers; he wiped them against the napkin before picking the burrito up again. “I think you are right. We present a united front. It she tries to isolate you, Knox is there. If she tries to isolate me, we have a paper trail and a third party in the room. she can’t manipulate what she can’t get behind closed doors.” He leaned back, looking satisfied with the strategy. “You have got a good head on your shoulders. Maybe too good for this office.”Harper smiles a shy proud smile. “You are too charming,” she said softly and took the last sip of her coffee. “There is one gap left…” her

The waitress then turned toward Harper, carefully holding the second plate. It held a generous serving of bacon and eggs with toast and fries. Two sunny-side-up eggs rested near the centre; their whites cooked until firm around the edges while their golden yolks remained glossy and soft. Several strips of bacon lay beside them, crisp along the edges but still slightly tender through the middle. Two slices of golden-brown toast were arranged along the side, their surfaces toasted evenly with a little butter melting into the warm bread. A pile of crisp golden fries filled the remaining space on the plate, some overlapping one another. The waitress gently lowered the plate onto the tabletop. She adjusted it slightly, so the eggs remained upright and the toast sat neatly beside the fries. After checking that nothing had shifted during the walk from the kitchen, she gave Oliver and Harper a brief smile and stepped back, leaving the warm, freshly prepared breakfasts steaming gently in fro

The waitress tucked her hands behind her apron for a moment and glanced between them. “Have you had a chance to decide what you would like to eat?” she asked. The man looked down at his menu before closing it. “I will have the breakfast burrito, please.” The waitress nodded and wrote the order down on her notepad. “And for you?” she asked, turning toward Harper, who considered the menu for another moment before answering. “I will have the bacon and eggs, with toast and fries on the side, please.” “Certainly,” the waitress replied, adding the order to her notes. “One breakfast burrito, and bacon and eggs with toast and fries.” She briefly checked that she had everything written down correctly before giving them another smile. “I will put that through to the kitchen for you.” With that, she slipped the notepad back into her apron and headed toward the counter, leaving them with their freshly poured cof

“You want me to pull it out?” Luz repeated, his voice flat. He knelt beside them, the weight of his bronze armour settling heavily. He did not look at Emile’s face– he looked at the arrow. The shaft was notched deep into the abdomen, the wood stained dark with blood. “If I pull it, he bleeds more,” he said, his bronze gauntleted hand hovering near the wound. “If I leave it, it festers. Who shot him?” Emile took a bandage out of the satchel. “The golden archer,” Emile said simply. “That is what the bandages are for. Not time for fire.”“Move,” he said to Emile, not unkindly, but with the absolute authority of a commander. He did not wait for her to comply. He reached out, his gauntleted hand gripping the shaft of the arrow just above the entry wound. “This is going to hurt,” he warned Salvaxe, though the man was already drifting in and out of consciousness. Luz’s fingers tight

Brain watched the city with the pride of a man seeing his masterpiece. “The heart of the continent,” he said gesturing toward the towering cathedral that pierced the clouds. “Built from nothing but blood and necessity. You will find everything you require here.” Estrela stood beside him, her gaze sweeping over the densely packed buildings and the moss-covered walls. Her eyes lingered on the statue of the warrior facing the sea, its stone sword pointed toward the horizon as if expecting an enemy. “It is crowded,” she remarked, her voice neutral. “People from all over the continent come here to do business,” Brain said proudly, his hand making its wat to Estrela’s lower back. The ship drew closer to the stone steps, the hull scraping softly against the wooden bumpers. Brain’s hand settled against the small of her back, his fingers pressing firmly through the leather straps of her armour. Her body stiffened for a fraction of a second– a sharp, internal flinch that

As Amelia stilled and drifted back into peaceful slumber, Luz let out a breath he had not realized her was holding. His shoulders dropped, the tension draining from them in a slow, heavy wave. He watched her for a long minute, waiting to see if the peace would hold, until her breathing settled back into that steady, quiet rhythm. He leaned his head back against the bulkhead, closing his eyes. The ship’s motion was hypnotic, a gentle rocking that felt almost like a lullaby. His hand drifted to his wrist, fingers brushing against the frayed white ribbon hidden beneath the bronze steel of his gauntlet. The fabric was thin, worn down by years of friction and sweat, but it was still there. “I am still here, Amelia,” he whispered to the empty air, so quiet it barely carried past his own lips. “I have not left yet.”Estrela returned, she stopped in the doorway of the cabin. “We are approaching Cidade dos Escravos,” she announced in a quiet t

After Estrela left the cabin, leaving Luz and Amelia alone below deck…Luz watched Estrela’s silhouette disappear out the door and up the stairs, the silence of the cabin deepening as she left. he did not move for a long time; his gaze fixed on the empty space she had occupied. The ship swayed gently, and he finally shifted, turning his head to look at Amelia. Her breathing was deep and even, her face smoothed by sleep into something almost peaceful. It was a rarity in this world– a moment of genuine peace that did not feel borrowed from a nightmare. He reached out, his fingers hovering just above her red hair before he caught himself. The metal of his bronze gauntlet felt too heavy, too wrong against something so fragile. He pulled his hand back and rested it on the edge of the cot instead. The darkness outside was absolute. Somewhere above, the wind was picking up, whistling through the rigging in a low, mournful tune.Amelia dreamed she was st

“He is afraid of bugs,” Estrela said with a light amused smile. “I do not know if that will help. But I once saw him jump up a table at the sight of a spider.” Mar stared at her, completely blank for a moment. The tension that had been coiled in his shoulders like a spring suddenly lost its tension. “He is afraid of bugs,” he repeated, flatly. He looked out at the looming cliffs of the mainland, then back at Estrela, who was actually smiling. The absurdity of it– this legendary, ruthless hunter of the Santo Order, a man who had likely killed dozens, being undone by a common spider– was almost too much to process.“That is… not what I expected you to say,” Mar admitted, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “But I suppose everyone has their weakness. Even predators.” He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the gravity of the situation. “Still, a spid

“I am not suggesting a course change. I have to face Escuro and expose that Santo Order for what they are,” Estrela said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “And I do not have a specific location for the seers. Even the spirit with his fast resources could not find them. But perhaps after dropping us of at Cidade dos Escravos… you and Emile could go to the South Reaches. With her sight she might be able to find them and you will both be far away from Escuro and the Santo Order.”Mar watched her wrap her arms around herself, the gesture small and defensive, like someone trying to hold their own pieces together. He had not expected her to be thinking about their future– about anything beyond her own survival. “You are planning ahead,” he said, his tone more surprised that accusatory. “That is new.” He looked out at the sea, they grey water churning beneath the hull. the idea of Cidade dos Escravos was a jagged, ug