Novelas de Golden Fingers

KILLIAN."She's not coming back, is she?"Leo stood in the doorway of my study on the second day, small and still in his pajamas. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement from a five-year-old who had already learned that adults sometimes lied to make things hurt less.I hadn’t slept. The bond in my chest felt like a lamp running out of oil, the flame flickering weaker with every passing hour. Claude’s latest trace had hit a dead end. Three search teams had come back empty-handed. Candice had vanished completely.I looked at my son standing there, blue eyes steady and far too knowing for his age."Come here, Leo," I said quietly, my voice rough from disuse.He walked over without hesitation and climbed into the chair across from my desk. He didn’t cry. He didn’t ask a hundred questions like he usually did. He just sat there, small hands folded in his lap, looking at me like he was waiting for me to fix the world.We sat in silence for a long time.Then Leo reached into his pajama pocke

CANDICE."You look terrible."The old woman behind the counter said it without judgment, just a simple observation as she poured coffee into a chipped mug and slid it across the counter toward me.I sat in the small roadside diner forty minutes outside Crescent Moon territory, the kind of place truckers and lost souls stopped at 3 AM. No phone. No bag. Just the clothes on my back and the small carved wolf tucked deep in my pocket like a secret I couldn’t let go of.I wrapped my cold hands around the warm mug and stared at the dark liquid.“Thank you,” I whispered. My voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. “For the coffee.”The old woman — grey hair pulled back in a loose bun, kind eyes that had seen too many broken people — didn’t ask questions. She just nodded and kept the pot nearby.I sat there for hours, the weight of what I’d done pressing down until I couldn’t breathe.“Greta?” I whispered under my breath, so quietly the old woman couldn’t hear. “Are you there? Please…

KILLIANThe east wing sitting room felt like a cage.Elaine sat across from me, legs crossed elegantly, teacup in hand, looking for all the world like we were negotiating a simple alliance instead of bargaining for Candice’s life.The bond in my chest pulsed weakly — a fading heartbeat that reminded me with every second how little time we had left.Claude stood to my left, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Darian stood by the door, arms crossed, eyes burning with quiet horror as he watched Elaine like she was a venomous snake ready to strike.Elaine took a slow sip of tea, then set the cup down with deliberate grace.“So,” she said calmly, “let’s be clear about what I’m asking for. I want formal recognition as a protected ally of Crescent Moon Pack. Full status. Immunity from my father’s reach. No more surveillance. No more Claude watching my every move like I’m seconds away from betraying you all.”Claude’s jaw tightened. “You leaked information that could destroy this

KILLIANI was losing my mind.The ache in my chest had become a constant, gnawing void that refused to let me breathe properly. Every inhale felt shallower, every exhale heavier, like the bond itself was being slowly strangled. The steady pull that had anchored me since Candice walked back into my life was dimming faster now — a flame struggling against a storm, flickering weaker with every passing hour.I paced the command center like a caged wolf, hands clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood I barely felt. The monitors glowed with useless maps and dead-end traces. The silence in the room was deafening except for the pounding of my own heart.Claude stood in front of me, trying to block my path, his face exhausted but determined.“Killian, you need to breathe,” he said, voice low and urgent. “You’re spiraling. The bond dimming is serious, but panicking won’t help us find her faster. You have to stay focused. For her. For the children. For the pack.”I stopped pac

KILLIAN.It started as a quiet ache.The kind that crept in slowly, like a lantern running low on oil. At first I thought it was only guilt. I deserved every bit of it after the things I said to her in that corridor and the way I let her walk out in silence. But this feeling kept growing heavier, deeper, carving out a hollow space inside my chest that no amount of whiskey or pacing could fill.I sat alone in my study at 3:12 AM. The room felt too large, too empty. Moonlight sliced through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the heavy oak desk. Blank monitors stared back at me like dead eyes. The half-empty bottle of whiskey sat untouched, the glass beside it still clean. Sleep had become a stranger. Food tasted like ash. Every breath reminded me that something vital was slipping away.I pressed a hand over my heart, frowning at the strange coldness there. The pull that had anchored me since Candice walked back into my life used to feel warm and steady, like a quiet promise h

KILLIAN.The pack house was unraveling thread by thread, and every single one of those threads had my name on it.I stood in the doorway of the children’s playroom, watching Leo push his plate away for the fourth time that morning. The toast and eggs sat untouched, growing cold. His small face was pale, his eyes red and swollen from crying through the night. He kept glancing at the door like he expected Candice to walk in any second with her usual soft smile and quiet “eat up, baby.”“Leo, please,” I said, my voice rough and exhausted. I knelt beside him and gently pushed the plate closer. “Just a few bites. You need to eat something. Mummy wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”He shook his head, lips trembling. “I’m not hungry. I want Mummy.”The words sliced through me like a blade straight to the heart.“I know, buddy,” I whispered, pulling him into my arms. He buried his face in my chest and started sobbing quietly. I held him tight, rocking him gently, feeling my own eyes burn with te