Novels by Sunny Leah

—ELEANOR —I let Arthur feed me in silence, spoonful after careful spoonful.My pride lies somewhere under the covers, bruised and battered, but right now, eating matters more than dignity.Still, no matter how tender he acts, no matter how gentle his touch, a coil of anger stays tight in my chest.After a while, he sets the spoon down, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin as if I’m something precious. Something he didn’t walk out on— twice.My fingers twitch.I turn my face slightly away.He hesitates — and then, almost cautiously, he says my name, “El”It’s seriously unfair when he calls me by the nickname he gave me when he knows we’re nothing more.“About earlier… about Brianna…”His voice is low, almost strained, like he’s walking on glass. “I didn’t want you to misunderstand. Mrs. Brown called me. She said Brianna was hurt — her hand. I had no choice but to go.”I stiffen.Just like that, the breath stills in my lungs.He knows I’m angry.He can tell.Of course he should

—ELEANOR-I stir awake to a warm sensation lingering on my forehead.It’s faint, like a memory.Soft lips, a fleeting kiss.Arthur.My eyes flutter open, but the room is empty.The ache in my wrist throbs in time with my pulse, sharp and accusing.I glance toward the door, half-expecting him to walk in — but there’s only the faint rustle of the carer tidying the bedside table.“Where’s Arthur?” I ask, my voice rough from sleep.The woman glances up, folding a cloth neatly. “Mr. Arthur left early this morning,” she says politely. “Something urgent came up. A woman named Brianna. It seemed serious.”Brianna.The name slices through the haze of sleep sharper than any blade.Of course.Of course it would be her.A hollow, miserable feeling lodges itself in my chest.I push the covers back roughly, as if getting out of bed could somehow shake it off.My stomach twists with hunger and resentment — an ugly, restless mix.“I’m hungry,” I mutter. “Could you help me get some breakfast?”The ca

—ARTHUR--I sit by Eleanor’s bed, watching her face closely as she sleeps.She fell asleep right close to me when I was almost done wiping her.It must have been very soothing, for her to just fall asleep right away.Her brow furrows, lips pressed tightly together — she’s restless, even in her unconscious state.I wish I could take away the tension in her face, the pain that seems to cling to her even when she’s not awake. But I can’t.I never could.I reach out, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, my touch light, almost hesitant. Her skin is warm, too warm, and the sensation sends a shock through me.I shouldn’t feel this way.But I do.Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead, so soft, so fleeting that it’s barely there. A silent apology. A whispered prayer for something I’ll never get.I wish I could hold her like this, make everything right again.But I know better.She doesn’t see me. She sees someone else.She shifts slightly, her lips parting as th

—ELEANOR.-The ceiling above me is blank and cold.I lie there, my wrist throbbing in a rhythm that matches the ache in my chest. The smell of sterile ointments clings to me — sharp, bitter, suffocating.It’s been hours, but I still can’t sleep.I can’t even close my eyes. The pain is hard to bear.I shift slightly, and the pain flares hot and sharp down my arm. A broken sound crawls up my throat, but I bite it back. I won’t cry. I’ve already cried enough — when no one was here to see it.The door clicks softly.I freeze, pretending to sleep, even as every part of me sharpens with awareness.I know who it is.Arthur.His presence fills the room the way smoke does — heavy, unwelcome, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.I hear the slow drag of his footsteps, then the stop. He’s standing by the bed now, staring down at me.“You’re still awake,” he says, voice low, almost careful.I say nothing. What could I possibly say to him? That I hate him? That I hate myself more for wanting him to

—ARTHUR.-“Would you like to ask Ms. Brianna Brown about what happened?” Liam asks, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a dull knife.Ask Brianna?I scoff without thinking. The sound comes out sharp and automatic, laced with disbelief.There’s no point. I know her. She’ll lie. She’ll twist her words into something that sounds believable, maybe even sympathetic, but it won’t be the truth. I can already see the tilt of her head, the innocent eyes, the careful pause before she spins the narrative.“I don’t need her version,” I say coldly. “Send me the surveillance file.”Liam nods and steps away. Moments later, a soft buzz pings my phone. The file arrives, waiting. I tap the screen, thumb hovering over the play buttonThe heavy double doors at the end burst open.Eleanor.She’s wheeled out of the operating room, her body unnaturally still against the stark white of the sheets. Her skin is pale—more than usual—and the dark circles under her eyes make her look bruised, hollow. Her

—ARTHUR.-“Would you like to ask Ms. Brianna Brown about what happened?” Liam asks, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a dull knife.Ask Brianna?I scoff without thinking. The sound comes out sharp and automatic, laced with disbelief.There’s no point. I know her. She’ll lie. She’ll twist her words into something that sounds believable, maybe even sympathetic, but it won’t be the truth. I can already see the tilt of her head, the innocent eyes, the careful pause before she spins the narrative.“I don’t need her version,” I say coldly. “Send me the surveillance file.”Liam nods and steps away. Moments later, a soft buzz pings my phone. The file arrives, waiting. I tap the screen, thumb hovering over the play button, but something in me holds back. I don’t open it.Not yet.The sterile scent of the hospital hangs in the air, sharp and too clean. The hallway feels too quiet until the heavy double doors at the end burst open.Eleanor.She’s wheeled out of the operating room, her

12YEARS LATER JASMINE—-.The kitchen bustles with activity as servants scurry about, their hands moving swiftly to prepare for the evening's festivities. The clock ticks closer to dusk, and the pressure mounts to complete the decorations before our party guests arrive.I lend a hand where I can, expertly arranging a centerpiece of fresh flowers. Hades burst into the room, Jason perched on his broad shoulders, giggling uncontrollably."You'll make him throw up again," I warn, eyeing Hades's energetic swinging."Aw, he likes it," Hades replies, grinning mischievously, as he makes another sweeping arc."Mommy, I love it!" Jason squeals, his tiny hands grasping Hades's hair.I shake my head, concealing a smile. "If you throw up, don't expect me to come to your aid."Jason's face sets in determination. "I'm four. I can help myself."I chuckle inwardly, recognizing the stubborn streak he inherited from Hades. Jason's words echo his father's confident tone, a miniature replica of the man w

—JASMINE-Stepping foot in Silvermist feels surreal, like a dream I've longed to awaken to. The word "home" echoes through my soul, resonating with a depth I never knew I craved. Every step carries me closer to a sense of belonging.As I wander through the pack's grounds, a somber atmosphere envelops me. The usual bustle seems muted, with fewer pack members in sight. Some may be busy with their daily routines, but the scarcity of familiar faces weighs heavily.My heart quickens, anticipation building as I approach the main pack house. I've yearned to hold my children close, to see the spark in their eyes. And Hades...my mate, my rock.The pack house comes into view, its wooden facade weathered to a warm, golden brown. Smoke drifts lazily from the chimney, carrying the scent of warmth and comfort.I push open the door, and a sense of peace washes over me. I'm home.After weeks of navigating the unfamiliar city, I'd finally found my footing. The initial disorientation and panic had g

—HADES.-I trudge back to the Silvermist pack's main house, weighed down by the crushing burden of defeat. The familiar scent of home and family offers little comfort, as the ache within me grows with each step.Until now, I hadn't grasped the depth of great sadness. The hunt, once fueled by determination and hope, has yielded nothing. No sign of Jasmine, no hint of Denzel's whereabouts. The abyss of uncertainty gapes wider, threatening to consume me.As I enter the pack house, my gaze falls upon Enora and Ezra, their hushed conversation halted by my arrival. Their eyes, attuned to my emotions, widen in concern.Ezra, one of our pack's strongest members and a trusted ally had opted to remain behind, watching over Enora and our children while I pursued the hunt. His presence provides a sense of security, allowing me to focus on the search.Now, as Enora and Ezra take in my worn, defeated appearance, they sense the outcome without needing words. Their expressions mirror my despair."

JASMINE.-I'm so cold, my body numb and trembling. Hunger pangs gnaw at my stomach, and my throat feels parched, desperate for a drop of water. The night is wearing on, and I've lost all sense of direction.The convenience store manager's words echo in my mind: "You're miles away from Maple." The reality hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm stranded, alone, and scared.This place is unfamiliar, its streets twisting and turning in ways that make no sense. I don't know how to navigate these dark alleys and deserted roads.Fear creeps in as the streetlights cast long, ominous shadows. Every sound makes me jump – the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of a car, the creaking of trees.Denzel's face flashes in my mind, his cruel smile etched in my memory. He's a monster for bringing me here, for tearing me away from Maple and everyone I love.My hand instinctively goes to the cut on my chest, the pain still throbbing. Infection is a constant fear, and without Lira's healing touch, recovery w

—HADES.-Denzel's minion leads us to the outskirts, just as he promised. But I should've known better. The guy's a total liar. This is a setup, a trap.Denzel's goons are waiting in the warehouse, ready to pounce the moment we step foot inside.But I'm on it. I brought my pack here to track down Jasmine, not to get caught up in Denzel's twisted game.As their alpha, I prioritize their safety. "Fall back!" I yell.My wolves obey instantly, falling back as I unleash the full fury of my inner beast. Adrenaline surges through my veins, fueling my fight response. I become a whirlwind of teeth and claws, taking down Denzel's wolves with swift and deadly precision.With each swift kick, I send opponents crashing to the ground. My bites are targeted and merciless, crushing bone and sinew. My claws slice through fur and flesh, leaving ravaged bodies in my wake.These amateur wolves, thinking they could take me down? It's almost laughable. My strength surpasses theirs by a landslide, honed fro

—JASMINE-“You’ve fucked me up” Denzel begins.“Now come closer”I move closer to Denzel, my body betraying my will. His hand reaches out to claim me, his touch looming like a dark specter. The night air thickens, cold and oppressive, as if conspiring against me.Alison seethes behind me, her rage palpable. "Stop this madness, Denzel!"Denzel's smirk twists into a snarl. "Shut up, you filthy traitor. I'll deal with you when I'm done with her.""Traitor, says the traitor himself!" Alison spits, her voice venomous.Hunter joins the chorus of outrage. "You deceived us!"Denzel's laughter sends shivers down my spine. "I didn't deceive you. You're both just blind fools. It would've been nicer to claim one of your bodies."His words drip with malevolence, and I feel a surge of revulsion.I turn to face Alison, our eyes locking in a silent understanding. She wore the cursed necklace around my neck; she could free me.Alison's gaze flashes with recognition, and I turn back to Denzel."Now le