Jennifer Writes の小説

~What Remains of Us~ Stefano felt no remorse for erasing his mother from existence. No guilt. No haunting dreams or sleepless nights. What he felt instead was relief, the kind that sits deep in your bones, silent but steady, like a long-awaited exhale after years of drowning. He made no attempt to find his father either. But Serena did. But she did it secretly. She followed every rumor, every whisper from the underworld, traced every name tied to the shadows of the past, but she found nothing. No sign. No clue. No grave. No ghost. Still, she knew he was out there. And Stefano was waiting. She knew that if he ever resurfaced, Stefano wouldn’t hesitate. He’d erase him too. Without a blink or even a prayer. However, after the final war, everything changed. Stefano’s name was restored. His throne reclaimed. His empire was rebuilt from ashes and blood. His wealth returned tenfold, his enemies reduced to memories buried six feet under. No more betrayal. No more leaks. No more whispe

The night air was cold and heavy with rain. The estate ahead glowed faintly through the mist, modern, vast, and crawling with security. From the hill where they stood, Stefano watched the mansion through binoculars, his jaw set tight. Serena was beside him, dressed in black, her pulse loud in her ears. Behind them, a dozen of Stefano’s men crouched low, armed and waiting for his command.A single gesture was all it took. And the team began moving.They approached like shadows—silent, precise. One by one, the guards around the compound fell. A muffled scuffle here, a quiet thud there. No alarms, no shouting. Just death moving on silent feet. Serena covered the rear, gun steady, her eyes sharp and alert. Every time a light flickered or a voice rose, her breath caught, but Stefano’s calm presence anchored her.When the path was clear, they slipped through the side gate and into the mansion. The marble floor gleamed under dim lights. The atmosphere gradually changed. The air smelled fain

She left the light of the room like someone walking away from a warming fire. The corridor that led to the dungeon smelled of damp stone and old oil lamps. Each footstep sounded loud to her, a metronome for the resolve that had built in her chest. Stefano had told her everything. He had told her who Marco had been, what he had done, and what was left to do. Now it was her turn to finish it.The iron door to the lower corridor was heavy. It sighed as she pushed it, a long, tired sound that matched the way her bones felt. Torches lined the passage, their flames guttering as a chill moved through the tunnel. Her palms were cool on the cold metal of the railing. Her breath came short, precise, as if every inhale had to be rationed for what she was about to do.At the bottom of the stairs the dungeon opened into familiar gloom. The cell where Marco had been kept smelled of oil, sweat, and the tang of old blood. Chains hung from the walls like the teeth of some awful mouth. He was there, sl

TThe silence stretched between them, thick as smoke. Serena’s heart wouldn’t stop racing. She sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, while Stefano sat across from her on the couch near the window, composed, unreadable. His gaze was sharp, steady, as though he could see straight through her, peeling away every layer she tried to hide behind. There will be no secrets. Not anymore.When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Almost too quiet.“It wasn’t the Russians,” he said.Serena blinked. “What?”“It wasn’t them who Marco served,” Stefano went on, leaning back in his chair. “It was my parents. Maria and Armando De Ricco.”The words struck her like a blow. She felt her stomach lurch, the ground tilt beneath her. “That’s not possible,” she whispered. “They’re dead. You told me they were dead.”“I believed it,” Stefano admitted, his jaw tight. “I mourned them. I built my empire with the ghost of their deaths behind me. But it was all a lie. Maria faked her own deat

Rome smelled the same. Damp stone and exhaust, basil and cigarette smoke lingering in the streets. Serena felt it the moment she stepped off the car and into the mansion, a strange knot in her chest. This mansion had been a place of punishment once, a place where Stefano had broken her and where Marco had pulled her out of the dark. To return now felt like walking into a memory she had tried to bury.But Stefano was not the man she remembered. When she saw him again, he was calm, composed, his anger buried beneath something quieter. His eyes no longer burned like fire but steadied on her with unsettling patience. That calm made her heart beat harder than rage ever had.She broke the silence first. “Why did you save me?” Her voice was sharp, but it trembled at the edges.Stefano leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced loosely in front of him. “It wasn’t my idea. Marco asked me to.”Her breath caught. “Then where is he?”“In chains,” Stefano said. “In the same dungeon where I once

The interrogation began slow and clinical, a rhythm designed to grind a person down, and when Calista refused to tell him anything Peckham’s calm shifted into something colder. The kind of patience that does not intend mercy.They strapped her hands to the chair and the metal bit into her palms. The lights were white and too bright, the room smelling faintly of disinfectant and stale air conditioning, and Peckham stood over her with a remote in his hand as if he held a lighter instead of a switch. “Speak,” he said once, crisp as a command, “or this ends faster.”She stared back at him and said nothing. Refusal was a weapon she still carried. He did not smile. He flicked the switch.The first jolt knocked the breath from her and the chair bucked beneath her. Pain arced through her body like a hot brand, but she managed to bite the scream down until it was a sound that left her throat raw. She tasted metal. Her knees shook. The light buzzed.“Talk,” Peckham said again, softer this time,

The night of the full moon was ablaze with magic and love. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the sky was painted with hues of crimson and gold. It was the perfect night for a wedding, and Kimberly and Nicholas were ready to seal their love forever.Clark, with a warm smile, led Kimberly to the altar, where Nicholas awaited her. The ceremony was a beautiful blend of human and werewolf traditions, with the binding of the treaty being celebrated simultaneously. Aaron stood by Clark's side, a symbol of their newfound peace and unity.As Kimberly and Nicholas exchanged their vows, the full moon rose high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the gathering. The pack, a sea of familiar faces, watched with tears in their eyes as their beloved alpha and luna-to-be promised to love and cherish each other.With a final pronouncement, Kimberly and Nicholas were declared husband and wife. The pack erupted in cheers and applause as the newlyweds shared a tender kiss

Kimberly, still wailing on the ground, caught sight of Nicholas going about his killing spree, now about to kill her brothers, Clark and Aaron. "No!" She screamed, her voice hoarse from crying. "Enough! Please!" She begged, scrambling to her feet and rushing towards Nicholas.Reluctantly, Nicholas turned to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong, Kimberly?" he asked, his voice still laced with the fury of his bloodshed."Enough of the killing!" Kimberly pleaded, grabbing his arm and holding him back. "Enough of this unending war, this carnage, and massacre! We've lost so much already!" She looked at Clark and Aaron, her eyes welling up with tears. "My father, Levi... how many more lives must we lose?"Nicholas's expression softened, and he looked at Clark and Aaron, who cowered in fear. "You want me to spare them?" he asked Kimberly.Kimberly nodded vigorously. "Yes, please. I want us to end this war, to find peace. We can't keep living like this, always looking o

Arnold, Rebecca, and Aaron sat huddled and bound together with chains, their eyes fixed on Kimberly, Levi, and Nicholas, who stood before them with the remaining two werewolves. Arnold's gaze darted around the room, his eyes widening in agitation as he realized Clark was missing."Where's Clark?" he demanded, his voice rising. "What have you done to my son?"Kimberly's expression remained calm, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Calm down, Arnold, he's fine. He'll probably join us soon."Arnold's face reddened with anger, he leaned forward saying; "We spoilt you too much, look at you calling me by my first name. Spoilt brat." He spat.Kimberly's eyes sparkled with amusement as she turned her back on them, focusing on Nicholas, who lay injured and breathing heavily on the ground. "Oh, would you rather I called you Father? Daddy? Papa?" She chuckled dryly, her voice laced with mockery.As she tended to Nicholas, her voice softened, and she whispered quietly, "You're okay, you're okay," r

With a sinister sneer, Kimberly raised her hands, and her fingers danced in the air, weaving intricate signs that shimmered with a malevolent glow. Her voice was low and hypnotic, chanting enchanting words in ancient languages that sent shivers down the spines of the Silversmiths. The air seemed to vibrate with dark energy, and the three werewolves within the magical bubbles instantly vanished from sight, leaving the Silversmiths stunned, confused, and disoriented."Just tie them up, I'll let Nicholas decide what to do with them," Kimberly instructed in English, her voice dripping with malice. The Silversmiths exchanged fearful glances, knowing they were being hunted.As the magical bubbles dissipated, the Silversmiths launched a frantic barrage of bullets and arrows, firing wildly into the air. Clark, Arnold, Aaron, and Rebecca unleashed a hail of projectiles, but they kept missing their targets, as if the werewolves were phantoms.Suddenly, Arnold yelped in pain and vanished into th

The hours ticked by quickly as Kimberly meticulously outlined the plan to rescue Nicholas and Levi. Her eyes scanned the room, meeting the gaze of each werewolf as she spoke. "I know the layout of the Silversmith's house," she reminded them. "I was once their captive, and I know exactly where they'll be keeping Nicholas.”The werewolves listened intently, their faces set with determination. They were ready to put an end to the Silversmith hunters once and for all.With the plan in place, the group set out, their movements swift and silent. After a two-hour drive in their various cars, they reach the heart of town, where the Silversmith residence was located. As they approached the Silversmith house, Kimberly's heart pounded in her chest. The moment they stormed the crossed over the fence, the alarm system blared to life, and the sound of gunfire echoed through the air. Men dressed in black, armed with silver arrows and guns, poured out of the house, firing at the werewolves.The batt

What was thought to be a week's training, turned out to be a 72 hours non-stop training for Kimberly. Given her unyielding determination and resolve, she worked so hard until swift transformation became nothing short of remarkable. Under Hannah's guidance, she harnessed and possessed incredible power, her magic growing exponentially with each passing hour with and with each passing practice. Hannah took great delight in teaching Kimberly, who proved to be a fast and eager learner.As the hours turned into days, Kimberly's abilities continued to astound Hannah. She demonstrated a natural affinity for magic, mastering complex spells with ease. Her powers were raw, yet refined, and Hannah found herself intrigued by the depth of Kimberly's potential.Their training sessions were intense, with Kimberly pushing herself to the limit. She practiced tirelessly, honing her skills and perfecting her technique. Hannah watched with pride, knowing that Kimberly was destined for greatness.Finally,