Novels by K. Lyn Leigh

Everleigh awoke to the soft golden light spilling through the tall windows of her room. The morning air carried a faint chill, and she shivered lightly as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The dream from the night before clung stubbornly to her mind, like mist refusing to lift. Masked dances, explosions, Krystal’s mocking laughter, Rowan’s pained gaze—they haunted her still.She rose slowly, her bare feet brushing against the cool stone floor. Today, like every day at the Academy, she would wear the assigned white dress—a gown identical to those worn by every other girl. The long, flowing sleeves brushed her wrists, the high neckline pressed gently against her collarbone, and the bodice was simple, unadorned, leaving little room for personal expression. Yet, as she smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, she reminded herself that poise and grace could speak where fabric could not.Her hair fell freely over her shoulders, unadorned and natural. She brushed it carefully, mind

Everleigh drifted into sleep with the lingering scent of honeysuckle clinging to her skin, her body still warm from the bath, her mind lulled by the quiet of the Academy. At first, her dream was gentle, soft, like a memory she had tucked away in a pocket of her heart. She found herself in a grand hall, its crystal chandeliers casting sparkling light across polished floors. Music swirled around her, lilting and sweet, and she felt a hand slide into hers.Looking up, her heart skipped a beat. The masked man from the lottery stood before her, dressed in elegant black attire with subtle gold embroidery. The mask covered his eyes and nose, lending him an air of mystery that drew her closer. “May I have this dance?” his voice was smooth, low, and reverent.Everleigh’s lips curved into a smile, and she allowed herself to be led. They danced gracefully, twirling across the floor in time with the music, their steps perfect and effortless. She felt light, almost weightless, as if the world had

The dining hall buzzed with subdued chatter as the girls gathered for supper. Everleigh moved carefully through the rows of long tables, balancing her tray with the simple meal that had been prepared for them. Compared to the modest fare she had been used to, this was luxurious—but far less than the rich, elaborate meals that Krystal and the other noble-born girls had grown accustomed to. Everleigh’s hand tightened around the edge of the tray as she caught Krystal complaining about the portions again, her voice shrill and dripping with disdain.Everleigh didn’t respond; she had learned already that words in the heat of irritation only gave the noble girls power. Instead, she focused on her meal, savoring each bite quietly, and allowed the room to hum around her as she finished. She noticed other girls sneaking glances at her, whispering to one another, and for a moment, a pang of unease stirred within her. But she reminded herself that she had survived worse attention at the lottery a

Rowan’s arm remained tight around Everleigh’s waist, a silent anchor in the storm of her pounding heart. His touch was firm but careful, like he knew she was on the verge of trembling apart. The knock came again, sharper this time, reverberating through the thick oak door of her chamber.“Everleigh?” a voice called. Female. One of the girls from her wing. “You’re taking forever—are you coming down for the afternoon rounds or not?”Panic seized her chest. She couldn’t let anyone find Rowan here. If he was discovered, it wouldn’t be him who paid the harshest price—it would be her. Expulsion. Humiliation. Perhaps worse.Rowan’s grip tightened, his fingers pressing into her side with the unspoken command to stay silent. His eyes burned into hers, warning and unwavering.“I—” Her throat felt dry as parchment. Forcing the tremor out of her voice, she called, “I’ll be down in a moment!”There was a pause. A sigh. Then the faint scuff of slippers retreating down the corridor.Everleigh slumpe

The dining hall of the Academy was grand enough to make even the proudest noble pause. Long polished tables gleamed beneath the golden chandeliers. The air smelled faintly of honeyed bread, spiced meats, and roasted vegetables—aromas that tugged painfully at the stomachs of those who had grown up hungry. Everleigh lingered at the back of the procession of girls as they entered, her eyes wide at the sheer abundance.It was almost cruel. She could still remember nights of gnawing hunger when her mother and she had shared a crust of bread so hard it cracked between her teeth. And now—now the tables were weighed down with dishes she’d only seen in storybooks.Roasted pheasants, their skins golden and glistening. Thick loaves of honey bread, sliced and steaming. A rich stew bubbling in a cauldron near the head table, thick with chunks of venison and root vegetables. Silver goblets filled with watered wine and crystal pitchers that caught the candlelight.Around her, murmurs rose from the g

The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when the bells of the Academy began to toll, their steady peal echoing through the marble halls. The sound was sharp, commanding—an order rather than an invitation. Everleigh stirred, rising from the thin mattress in her assigned dormitory. Around her, the other girls scrambled into motion, the air filling with whispers, yawns, and the rustle of fabric.“Up, up, ladies,” a matron’s clipped voice called from the doorway. “The King does not tolerate tardiness, and neither shall we.”Everleigh smoothed her hair with her fingers and blinked away the remnants of sleep. The dormitory was stark, rows of identical beds lined against the walls, white linens neatly tucked. It smelled faintly of lavender soap and candle smoke. She had slept little, her mind replaying the sounds of girls weeping the night before after the last cut. Thirty of them remained now. Only thirty out of seventy.Today, the real lessons began.A maid entered, wheeling a cart

The decision had been brewing in Lila’s mind for days, a knot of anxiety twisting tighter each time her phone buzzed. At first, she thought she could ignore it—block the number, delete the messages, pretend none of it was happening. But pretending didn’t stop the way her hands shook when her screen lit up, or how her stomach dropped at the sight of another photo she hadn’t consented to be taken. It didn’t stop the fear that whoever was behind it was watching her even now, cataloguing her life like a series of stolen moments.So on a cool Thursday morning, when the rest of the world felt caught in the slow hum of early spring, Lila marched herself into her phone carrier’s store.She sat in the plastic chair across from a clerk who looked hardly older than her, fingers flying across a keyboard as he pulled up her account. “So you’re wanting to change your number completely?” he asked, voice flat with the practiced tone of someone who’d asked the question a hundred ti

The sunlight filtering through Lila’s blinds didn’t feel warm today—it felt intrusive. Every beam seemed to spotlight the unease curling in her chest, reminding her that no matter how much she tried to pretend, the unknown sender was still out there, still watching, still whispering into her life through texts and images. She sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, scrolling through the latest barrage of messages that had come overnight. Each ping made her flinch.Nicole and Mae had insisted she bring the phone over so they could examine it together. If Terra really was behind this, they needed a strategy, and Lila wasn’t going to be the only one on edge anymore.By mid-morning, Lila had texted her friends to come over. When the doorbell rang, she opened it to find Nicole with a backpack slung over one shoulder and Mae holding a laptop like it was a weapon.“Morning,” Nicole said, her tone a mixture of teasing and seriousness. “You’ve got that haunted

Lila couldn’t hear the world around her. The music from her phone, the hum of the ceiling fan, even the faint traffic outside her window—all of it faded beneath the roar in her chest. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone, the screen lighting up with the last unanswered message she’d fired off at the anonymous number.Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why him? Why me?The reply had come in seconds, like whoever was on the other side was waiting, breathing down her neck through invisible wires.You’ll see. He’s not who you think he is. And I’ll prove it.And then, as if to twist the knife, the photo.Her and Anthony. From two nights ago, walking down the block after leaving Nicole’s house. She hadn’t even noticed anyone near them, let alone close enough to snap a picture. But there they were—her head tilted toward Anthony, his hand brushing hers, both of them caught in a moment that had felt so safe.Now it was ruined.

Lila couldn’t hear the world around her. The music from her phone, the hum of the ceiling fan, even the faint traffic outside her window—all of it faded beneath the roar in her chest. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone, the screen lighting up with the last unanswered message she’d fired off at the anonymous number.Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why him? Why me?The reply had come in seconds, like whoever was on the other side was waiting, breathing down her neck through invisible wires.You’ll see. He’s not who you think he is. And I’ll prove it.And then, as if to twist the knife, the photo.Her and Anthony. From two nights ago, walking down the block after leaving Nicole’s house. She hadn’t even noticed anyone near them, let alone close enough to snap a picture. But there they were—her head tilted toward Anthony, his hand brushing hers, both of them caught in a moment that had felt so safe.Now it was ruined.

The night pressed in heavy, the kind that swallowed and wrapped the world in a suffocating stillness. Lila sat cross-legged on her bed, the pale glow of her phone the only light in the room. It illuminated her face like a cruel spotlight, highlighting the tension etched into her jaw, the tear-gloss sheen in her eyes.Her screen still showed the last message, waiting for her acknowledgment like a taunt.Does he tell you he loves you? Or does he just say it because you need to hear it?She hated how the words sank under her skin, how they poisoned the very place Anthony’s voice used to soothe her. She wanted to delete them, block the number, pretend this had never crawled into her world. But she couldn’t. She never could. Every time she silenced the phone, every time she told herself she was done, the messages found their way back to her like a shadow she couldn’t outrun.Tonight, though, she was done being passive. Tonight, she couldn’t shove it aside anymore. Somethi

The glow of Lila’s phone felt like fire against her palm. Another message had arrived—no name, no picture, just the same number that had haunted her for weeks.“He’ll never love you the way you think. He belongs to me.”She squeezed her eyes shut, every word carving deeper into the insecurities she thought Anthony’s presence had healed. She should have ignored it. She’d promised herself she would. But her thumb hovered over the keyboard like it had a mind of its own.Who are you? What do you want from me? she typed, heart slamming in her chest.The reply came instantly.“I want what’s mine.”Her breath caught. Fingers trembling, she typed again. You don’t even know me. Why are you sending me this?This time, instead of words, an image arrived. Her own face, taken from across the street outside her apartment. She was unlocking her car, wearing the same denim jacket she’d had on earlier that week. Her blood ran cold.The phone nearly slipped from her gr

The club was quiet now, the empty hallways echoing softly under the dimmed lights. The day shift was over, and I finally had a moment to breathe. I adjusted my mask in the reflection of the small mirror in my private office, making sure every strap lay perfectly, every line precise. Even now, when no one was watching, composure mattered. I couldn’t risk a single flaw that might give away who I truly was.The day had been long but uneventful. No patrons, no distractions, just the silent pulse of the club and the faint hum of the ventilation system. I moved through the space like a shadow, checking doors, double-checking the security measures I had helped set up years ago. Every camera, every sensor, every lock was a reminder that even in this world, control was everything.I allowed myself a slow exhale, a quiet moment of reflection. Atlas was somewhere out there, undoubtedly searching, undoubtedly curious. I could feel it in my bones, even without seeing him. The pull between us—the t

The room fell into a heavy silence the moment I finished speaking. My words hung between us, thick and tangible, weaving an invisible thread of tension that neither of us dared to break. The faint thrum of music from the main club seeped through the thick velvet curtains behind us, but inside this private room, the world was reduced to the heat of the air and the unspoken understanding between us.Atlas remained still for longer than I expected, the way his hand rested on the edge of the table, the faint rise and fall of his chest betraying a flicker of emotion he refused to show openly. I studied him from behind my mask, the dim amber lighting tracing the sharp planes of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He was trying to read me, to grasp at something he couldn’t quite place, but there was nothing for him to see beyond what I chose to reveal.“You’ve… thought about this,” he finally said, his voice low, deliberate, carrying a mix of disbelief and intrigue. “A

The sunlight spilled through the blinds in soft golden stripes, stretching across the floors of the safehouse like warm ribbons. I stirred awake, feeling the weight of the night’s exhaustion in my bones. My body ached from the previous evening at the club, the adrenaline finally ebbing, leaving behind a lingering tension I couldn’t quite shake. For a moment, I allowed myself to linger in bed, listening to the house.Quiet. Dante must have already gotten up for his usual early breakfast routine. The twins, Dahlia and Delaney, were likely still tucked beneath their blankets, murmuring softly in the cocoon of sleep. A small smile tugged at my lips. These quiet mornings were fleeting, rare pockets of serenity in a life filled with shadows and vigilance. I had learned to savor them, to draw strength from the calm before the inevitable storm of responsibilities.Sliding out of bed, I moved silently down the hallway toward Dante’s room. The soft creak of the floorboards u

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the blinds, painting the safehouse in muted golds and warm shadows. I sat at the small dining table, finishing the last sips of my coffee, my mind running through the schedule for the evening. Dante had already left for his after-school program, Dahlia and Delaney off with their piano lessons, and the house was quiet once again. It was a luxury I allowed myself rarely—silence—but it was never truly mine. Atlas was still out there somewhere, and I knew the threads of the past could snap back into my life without warning.I reviewed the plans for the night at the club, the routes I would take, the masks I would wear, and the contingencies Eli had suggested. Every detail mattered. I couldn’t afford the slightest misstep—not with Atlas, not with anyone who might recognize me or suspect who I was. My fingers traced the edges of the floor plan I had drawn for myself, noting every exit, every camera blind spot, and every potential threat.

The sunlight had just begun to filter through the blinds when I woke, my body still sore from the previous night. The adrenaline from the encounter at the club had ebbed, leaving a lingering tension that my muscles refused to release. I took a deep breath, stretching my arms above my head and trying to shake off the last traces of fatigue. It was time to face the day. The triplets needed me, and no shadow from the past would keep me from them. I glanced toward their rooms, the familiar sounds of soft breathing reaching my ears. My heart swelled with love and protectiveness. Dante, the oldest, would be up soon, likely ready to argue about breakfast. Dahlia and Delaney, the twins, were still tangled in each other, murmuring softly in their sleep. My fingers tingled as I moved down the hallway to their rooms, placing a gentle hand on each of their doors before stepping inside. “Good morning, my loves,” I whispered, brushing back a lock of Dante’s hair as h

The morning light was beginning to seep through the blinds, but I had just returned from the club, my heels echoing softly against the polished floors of our safehouse. My heart was still racing, the adrenaline from the encounter with Atlas refusing to leave my system. Even with everyone masked at the club, even with the darkness and the anonymity, I had recognized him immediately. There was no mistaking the way he moved, the confidence in his posture, the subtle menace in his tone. He had tried to engage me, had asked for a session, his voice low and controlled, but his intent had been clear. He had believed I was just another masked patron, yet there was a dangerous familiarity in the way he approached me. My refusal had set him off—anger had laced his words as he stated with certainty that I would come back. That single sentence kept replaying in my mind: You’ll come back soon. I set my bag down quietly, careful not to wake anyone. The house was stil