Novels by Ink Smith

FloraI sprinted out of the store, leaving the transport van and workers behind as I threw myself into the driver's seat of my SUV. I slammed my foot on the accelerator, tearing through the city streets toward the ridge.When I burst through the front doors of the estate, the nanny was pacing back and forth in the grand foyer, wringing her hands and sobbing violently."Where is she?" I screamed, my voice echoing off the high ceilings as panic choked my throat. "How could you let her out of your sight for a single second?""I am so sorry, ma'am!" the nanny cried, backing away in terror. "I was helping the drivers carry the boxes of warm clothes into the storage vault! She was right behind me, and then—"My phone buzzed relentlessly in my hand, vibrating with a barrage of missed calls and urgent text messages. I glanced at the screen. Holland. Dozens of frantic calls and angry messages over the past few weeks that I had completely ignored while focusing on my preparations. I shoved the

Flora The dining room table at the Spencer estate was set with sterling silver and crystal glasses. Holland sat across from me, his thumb casually rubbing the stem of his wine glass. His father sat at the head of the table, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin before setting down a thick, blue leather folder."Flora," his father began, offering a warm, paternal smile that made my stomach turn. "Holland mentioned you have been looking for a secure way to grow your family trust fund. We have an exclusive investment opportunity—a prime commercial real estate development in the central district. If you sign over your liquid assets to Holland tonight, we can secure the primary shares before the market opens tomorrow."I looked at the folder, then at Holland. He gave me a gentle, reassuring nod, his eyes full of fake affection. In my past life, I would have signed the paper without reading a single word.Instead, I set my fork down with a quiet clink."It is funny you bring that up, Fath

FloraMy phone rang early the next morning. The doctor’s voice was bright over the speaker as I stood by Annabel's bed."Mrs. Spencer, someone saw your news broadcast and came in to donate," the doctor said. "The blood type is an exact match. We’re starting the transfusion right now."Relief hit me so hard my knees buckled against the side of the mattress. I watched through the observation window as the deep red liquid trickled into my daughter’s vein, slowly pulling her back from the edge.Needing to see the person who had just saved my child’s life, I picked up the heavy briefcase of cash and walked down to the donor room. I pushed open the door.A man was standing by the window, his back to me as he stared out at the street. When the door latched shut, he turned.My fingers went numb. The briefcase hit the linoleum floor with a heavy thud.Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, dark eyes, features I knew all too well. But this face was older, rougher, marked by a faded scar trailing down

Flora The agonizing sensation of my flesh being ripped apart vanished instantly. Cold, hard floor pressing against my knees replaced the mud and blood of the zombie horde. A sharp, sterile smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol cut through my nose, making me gasp for air.I opened my eyes.No rain. No shattered glass. No monstrous roars echoing in the night.I looked down at my hands. There were no deep scratches, no makeshift bandages, and no blood. My skin was smooth and whole. I was kneeling on a polished linoleum floor, clutching the wooden bench of a hospital waiting room.I was alive.The clock on the wall read nine in the morning, and the date on the electronic calendar displayed a time from a year ago xactly thirty days before the outbreak would begin.My heart hammered violently against my ribs as reality set in. I had been reborn. I had really come back to the day my life fell apart, thirty days before the world turned into a living nightmare."Flora, stop making a scene in th

FloraWe were one year into this hellish outbreak, and every single day outside was a desperate battle for survival. My hands trembled, raw and covered in dirt, but relief washed over me as I stacked the food. I had survived another brutal run. Outside, the world belonged to the dead, but inside this fortified villa, my family would live another month.My father in law was bedridden with a severe fever, and my husband, Holland, had been working himself to the bone caring for him alongside his secretary who was present, Lena. she had been living with us since the fall of the city to help manage our dwindling supplies. I had voluntarily taken on all the outdoor risks, fighting off hordes and bearing the scars, as I was the only one in position to go out there. As I reached the bedroom door, I noticed it was sitting half ajar. Soft, muffled gasps drifted through the opening, mixed with low moans that made my feet freeze in place.My breath hitched in my throat.Through the narrow crack