Countdown Short Stories & Novels

On the day of our graduation trip, my boyfriend Roman, a mafia heir, and his childhood friend Clara left me stranded on the side of a deserted highway. Their off-road vehicle had been driving for over half an hour before they even noticed the back seat was empty. When Roman called, there was no panic in his voice, only a hint of irritation. "Blair, why didn't you get back in the car?" "Stop messing around. We're rushing to the canyon to catch the sunset. We don't have time to go back and get you." "Figure out a way to hitch a ride here yourself." Through the receiver, Clara's amused voice came through loud and clear. "She's not a three-year-old girl. She can't expect you to wait on her hand and foot." In the past, I would have assumed it was my fault, apologizing to him with teary eyes. Then I would have tried everything in the blowing sand, even running, just to catch up with his car. But this time, looking up at the blinding sun in the desert, I suddenly didn't want to chase after him anymore. I took out my phone and canceled all the luxury suite reservations along the canyon route. I bought a bus ticket to a small coastal town. It was the place they said was totally boring. The coastline stretched on forever, and the world was wide open. I was no longer following anyone.

My Alpha Female, my mate, had been gone a week surveying her territory. The moment she got back, I rejected our bond. "Just because I forgot your little trinket?" She laughed, blue eyes careless as ever. "Yes." I stared at her, face a mask. Seven days ago, Rowan, Alpha Female of the Silvermoon Ridge Pack, took her core warriors to inspect a newly acquired mining territory. When she returned, she had gifts for everyone. Even the border patrol got aged liquor. She forgot the only thing that mattered. The pure Moonstone I needed to soothe my burning Alpha blood. I'd waited two months. Then her new Omega scribe, Finn, posted a selfie on the pack network—showing off a wolf-fang necklace carved from raw Moonstone. [Thank you to the most powerful Alpha Female in the world! My loyalty will never fade!] Rowan's comment sat right below: [You deserve it.] I stared a long time. Then I deleted the message I'd been typing to her: "Waiting for you to come home, my Alpha." Rowan and I grew up together. Twenty years intertwined. When we came of age, she became the Alpha Female, I became her Beta. Once, I was the only one by her throne. Then, slowly, the entire pack got in line ahead of me. Just like now. We were breaking our bond—the most serious thing imaginable. But her phone lit up with Finn's message. "Need your guidance on the territory resource files." She didn't even look up. "Stop making a scene, Caleb. It's just a rock. I'll get you one before next month's ceremony. Finn has something urgent. Drive yourself back." She hurried away. I didn't stop her. I pulled out my phone and replied to the Alpha of the Blackpeak Pack. He'd invited me seven times. "I'm in. Flight's tomorrow night. See you in Blackpeak." I pulled the moonstone bracelet from my wrist and left it in the drawer of her office desk. Rowan. From now on, you have your throne. I'll get mine.

I shared a joint covenant account with Antonio De Luca. We had agreed that we would get married once the account reached ten million euros. When it reached 9.99 million euros, I scheduled a wedding rehearsal at the church. But it wasn’t until dusk that Antonio finally sent me a message: “The new adviser was ambushed and lost too much blood. The surgery requires absolute security. I have to stay with her.” At that very moment, fifty thousand euros were withdrawn from the covenant account. I scrolled back through the transaction history. Before that, there had been opera tickets, custom leather goods, and a bracelet—the same one I had seen the new adviser wearing on her wrist—all paid for in smaller installments. I clenched the pregnancy test report in my pocket and suddenly let out a bitter laugh. Since he had been secretly favoring someone else, there was no need for him to know about the child growing inside me.

For three years running, Matteo always had a reason to push the engagement date back, all because he was certain I could never want anyone but him. The first year, his parents refused to let him marry a poor girl like me, and the engagement was shelved. The second year, he lost the engagement rings I had made myself. No rings, no ceremony. The third year, he "forgot" to tell his parents the date and only told them at the last minute. There was too little time, they could not get there, and the engagement was shelved again. This year, though, none of those earlier "accidents" happened. There was only one exception. On the day of our engagement, the gown my mother had sewn for me stitch by stitch before she died somehow ended up on my stepsister, Capucine. She let her cat climb up the skirt and bite and claw at it until the lace was full of holes. Matteo did not scold her. He soothed her in a gentle voice instead. "It's fine. If it's ruined we'll just have another one made. It's an old dress, it's not like it's anything special." He ignored my red, swollen eyes. "The gown is gone now, so it looks like the engagement will have to wait until next year." I let out a cold laugh and stepped forward to strip the gown off Capucine. "Three times is enough. There won't be an engagement next year either." What he did not know was that before she died, my mother told me a secret she had kept for twenty years. I was never some poor girl. I was the only daughter of a Sicilian mafia family. My real father had found out where I had ended up, and he was already on his way to bring me home himself. Since this engagement was not going to happen, I had decided to go home with him.

After four miscarriages, I was finally pregnant again. To surprise my mate, Wyatt, I hid behind the curtains in his office. I never expected to see him tangled in a passionate embrace with my younger sister, Stella. They were kissing frantically, and Wyatt showed a fiery passion for her that he had never once shown me. What shattered my heart completely were Wyatt’s next words: "Since you're pregnant now, Harper is useless to me. I'll figure out a way to sever the mate bond with her." "She’s so incredibly clueless. She never even suspected that I caused those four miscarriages just to cure your infertility..." Hiding behind the curtain, I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle my devastated sobs. My fated mate murdered my babies with his own hands, all for my sister. In that moment, a fire of pure vengeance ignited in my heart. I called Wyatt’s mortal enemy, Dominic, Alpha of the Sterling Pack: "Want to make Wyatt's life a living hell? Let's make a deal."

I came home from a business trip. My daughter Anna threw herself into my arms and held up a hand-strung necklace she had clearly worked hard on. "Mommy, this is the birthday present I made for Mommy Lena. She's going to love it, right?" My heart dropped. Lena was my husband Preston's secretary. My daughter remembered her birthday. She had forgotten that today was mine. It wasn't the first time. She was always attached to Lena, hanging off her arm and asking, "Mommy Lena, when are you and Daddy taking me back to the amusement park?" Even when she ran a fever, the name she called out over and over was Mommy Lena. I corrected her, disappointed. "Anna, I'm your mommy, not Lena." But Anna pushed me away and shouted, "You're the bad mommy! I don't want you! I want Mommy Lena to be my mommy forever!" In that moment I could almost hear my own heart cracking. A second later, Preston shoved the door open. He scooped up the wailing Anna and turned on me. "Winnie, what kind of mother are you? Your child is crying like this and you can't even be bothered! "Anna's right. As a mother you're not half of what Lena is. I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I married you!" I watched their backs disappear down the hall and felt something go out in me. So this was what it had bought me. Six years ago I gave up my name and my claim as heir to the Family, all for love, and what I got in return was the contempt of my husband and my daughter. If that was how it was, then it was time for me to go home to the Family.

In my third year after joining the werewolf guard, I single-handedly cut off the rogues' supply line during a raid. For my actions, the chairman of the werewolf council awarded me a Silver Moon Insignia and granted me the right to live in a four-bedroom penthouse apartment at Moonshadow Estate. Mom once told me that if we ever moved into a bigger home, she would give me a bedroom that belonged to me alone. On the night all the furniture was moved in, I searched every one of the four bedrooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace of me in any of them. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. My older sister, Kalista, had taken the sunniest south-facing suite. My younger brother, Keane, had a room filled with newly purchased combat manuals and an entire wall of cabinets for his hunting boots. The remaining bedroom had been turned into Kalista's walk-in closet, and all my luggage had been piled outside the bathroom. I asked Mom, "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She froze for a moment before pointing at the brand-new sofa in the living room. "You're usually out on night patrol and hardly ever come home. If you occasionally stay the night, isn't the sofa good enough?" Dad frowned as well. "Family members should be considerate of one another. Although the pack rewarded you with this apartment, it belongs to the whole family too. Be generous. Don't start fighting over rooms the moment we move in." I lowered my head and looked at the insignia in my hand. Suddenly, I laughed. So the large home I had risked my life to earn had room for Kalista's clothes, Keane's equipment, and my parents' pride. But somehow, there was no room for me. That night, I received an encrypted message from the captain of the guard. [Outpost 3 on the northern frontier urgently needs a werewolf guard willing to serve there long-term. The assignment involves three years of closed rotation under harsh conditions, but each guard will be provided with private quarters.] I looked up at the four closed doors and quietly typed two words in reply. [I'm going.] If there was no place for me here, then I would go somewhere that had reserved a place for me.

My mother, Margaret Harper, carries the blood of a Word Witch. Once every lunar cycle, she can speak one blessing that fate itself is forced to obey. But all my life, the only thing she ever gave me was half a sentence. When I was eighteen, I received early admission to the Northern Royal Healers' Academy. My mother looked at the letter and said, "If you go north..." Her instincts had never been wrong, so I thought she'd seen danger waiting for me there. I turned the academy down with my own hands. Months later, she used her recommendation and a binding blessing to send my younger sister, Chloe, to the best healing school near our pack, even though Chloe had nowhere near my talent. After that, I stopped asking about my future. I started at the bottom of Black Pine Pack's medical system and fought my way up until the Northern Royal Pack appointed me Chief Healer. One month before I was due to leave, my mother saw the appointment letter and still offered me nothing but another unfinished warning. "Climbing too high might..." That same night, I heard her give Chloe the only blessing she could use that month. "You'll pass the senior healer examination. Your wolf will remain calm, and every examiner will recognize your ability." So that's the truth. My mother wasn't unable to finish a sentence. She simply never thought I was worth one. If every blessing she had belonged to Chloe, then Margaret didn't need to know that in one month, I would leave her house and Black Pine Pack for good.

My mother dragged me out of my biological father's brutality, and I thought we had finally escaped. Then she married the Don of the Falcone family. The woman who once fought to protect me completely changed. To secure my stepfather's approval and coddle his beloved Sofia, she stood by and let them turn me into a servant in the house I was supposed to call home. Every time I pushed back, they pushed harder. Every time I begged to be seen, I was met with contempt. My biological father's fists left scars on my body. This family's marks went deeper—into my bones. So I stopped. If they never wanted me there, I would stop breaking myself for their hollow approval. I would take my own life back. In seven days, I would leave. Harvard acceptance in hand—Boston waiting.

My six-year-old son fed me the cake that triggered my allergy and killed his unborn sister. He was smiling when he confessed, as if he had done something wonderful. “Aunt Vivienne said the baby would go back to the Moon Goddess. Then you and Daddy could break your mate bond, and she could stay with us instead. That way, Aunt Vivienne would have more time to play with me!” My heart clenched. I couldn't hold back anymore. “But Mommy and your sister can play with you, too. Can't we?” “Yeah, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “But it's boring when I'm with you, Mommy. Daddy and I have more fun with Aunt Vivienne.” The words hit me like a blow. For a long moment, I couldn't say a word. My mate, Adrian, stripped Finn of his heir badge, suspended his Alpha training, and sent him to a pack therapist. But when I asked him to investigate the adult who had given our son the cake and taught him how to deceive me, Adrian stepped between us. “Vivienne chose her words poorly. She couldn't have known Finn would actually do it.” Our six-year-old son was old enough to be punished. My sister was too innocent to be questioned. That was when I finally saw the favoritism Adrian himself didn't even realize he was showing. So I stopped asking him to choose me. I removed my Luna signet, left behind divorce and mate-rejection papers, surrendered custody of Finn, and accepted an assignment outside Blackwood Territory. By the time Adrian and Finn understood what it truly meant to lose me, they were already begging me to come back. Only this time, I was the one who no longer wanted to return.

On the final day of our graduation trip, temperatures suddenly soared to dangerous levels. I came down with heat exhaustion, but my boyfriend gave our entire supply of electrolyte drinks to my best friend. "You're in good shape, and you know first aid. Just drink some water and rest for a bit. You'll be fine. "Willa's the one we need to worry about. She's always been frail, and without the electrolyte drink, she could get seriously sick." I was too dizzy to argue, so I turned to the others in our group for help, only to be met with eye rolls. "Sophie, you're taking this jealousy way too far." "Ryan was just looking after someone who's actually sick. Do you really have to act like you're about to die?" As the group set off again, my boyfriend looked down at me, still sitting on the ground, and frowned. "Do you really have to bring everyone down right now? "Fine. Stay here and think about your actions. Once you're ready to admit you were wrong, you can catch up with us on your own." He had no idea that I was already showing signs of heatstroke, or that in the moment he walked away, the system would speak inside my head. [Host's life is in imminent danger. Do you wish to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. "I accept."

On the day of our graduation trip, my girlfriend suddenly went silent for half an hour. I didn't hear from her until just before I went through security. "Nicholas, you go ahead and board. Blake and I got upgraded to first class at the last minute. You know his back isn't great. He'll be uncomfortable in economy." Blake Walker was my younger brother in name, and every trip was the same. Whether we flew or took the train, Tiffany Spencer always made sure he got a first-class or business-class seat, while I was left squeezed into economy or a regular train seat. Even our carefully planned trip to the northern coast had been changed to a beach resort in the south simply because Blake casually mentioned that he liked the ocean. After two hours in economy, my back was aching badly, so I finally texted Tiffany. [I want to sit with you two.] Her reply was cold. Tiffany: [We'll be there in another hour. First class is expensive. Don't waste the money.] When we landed, the two of them were nowhere to be found. Tiffany explained over the phone. "Blake's hungry. I'm going to grab something to eat with him first. Come over once you've gotten everything sorted out." Then she told me to book the return flights. "Book our return flights. Two first-class tickets and one economy ticket. Don't forget." I tightened my grip on my phone and quietly said, "Okay." Then I bought three tickets. Two first-class tickets were bound for Kensford, while the third was bound for Aldmere, Loravia.

My family is democratic. Every decision is always settled by a family vote. Mom, Dad, my older brother, and my little sister each get one vote. I get one vote too. But the problem is that four votes always beat one. I never win. When I'm a sophomore in high school, my brother, Jonathan Hayes, wants a new computer. The vote passes four to one. The money I'd spent three years saving for college course fees disappears overnight. During senior year, I earn an early admission offer from North City University. My little sister, Jasmine Hayes, bursts into tears, saying she doesn't want me to move so far away. So, the family holds another vote. Dad places an application form on the table and says, "The majority has spoken. You'll attend the local teachers college." I argue that I've worked myself to the bone to get into North City University. Mom frowns. "Why are you so stubborn? If you stay here, you'll be able to help Jon later and also keep an eye on Jas. Wouldn't that be better for everyone?" Then, when Jonathan's startup business runs into financial trouble, Dad picks up my admission letter and announces that my tuition money will be loaned to Jonathan first. Jasmine links her arm through mine and says with a smile, "Josh, everyone has already voted. You can't be upset just because you lost." Looking at the admission letter that's decided by their votes, I suddenly find it absurd. So, this is what they call democracy—four of them legally deciding what I should lose. That night, I don't argue. I go online and fill in an application to a classified research program in the Northwest Podin Desert. From then on, the only vote that matters is my own.

The entire New York mafia world knows that Don Alessandro of the Rossi family takes a brutal punishment from the Council every year just to marry me. Because the Rossi family has a strict rule: all marriages must be approved by the Council. Yet, for three years in a row, Alessandro submitted our marriage application, and every time, it was rejected! The first year, he was locked in solitary confinement for three days and nights. The second year, his back was whipped raw. The third year, he even knelt in a torrential downpour to beg for their mercy. I always thought it was my fault, that I just wasn’t good enough to meet the Council's standards. It wasn't until the fourth year that I found out all those rejection letters from the Council were forged by Alessandro himself. And the reason was Mia—his secretary who had been secretly obsessed with him for years. "Mia has been by my side for eight years. She took a bullet for me. She held me and cried, saying the day I get married would be the darkest day of her life." "I love Jane, but I just can't bear to hurt Mia." "It just means marrying Jane a little later. She loves me so much, she won't mind." But he was wrong. Even though my heart was breaking, I didn't want this kind of love anymore. I called my father: "Dad, I'm ready to come back to Italy and marry the Don of the Caruso family."

The ninth time Julian Hale chose Vivian Cross over me, I held a knife to Vivian's throat and made her beg for forgiveness in the middle of a crowded downtown plaza. I thought that would finally be enough to end the affair. Instead, Julian made me pay for hurting her. He went after my father's company and destroyed it, leaving my family broke and buried in debt to loan sharks. In the end, my father, Martin Ellison, couldn't take it anymore. He swallowed an entire bottle of pills beside my mother, Diane Ellison. The shock was too much for her heart, and she died soon after. I lost both my parents in a single day. The day after the funerals, the doctor gave me more bad news. I had late-stage stomach cancer. I had three months left, maybe less. And just like that, I was done fighting. I moved out of our bedroom, threw away my wedding ring, and stopped calling him hundreds of times whenever he stayed out all night. Even when he brought Vivian home just to provoke me, I didn't argue. Instead, I hired a top chef to cook her favorite dishes. Julian thought I had finally learned my place. Then came Vivian's birthday. With a shy smile, she said her birthday wish was to marry Julian. I pulled the signed divorce papers from my bag and slid them across the table. Julian panicked. He ripped them apart and grabbed my wrist, his eyes bloodshot. "Nora, what game are you playing now? Trying to make me chase you? Where did all that fight in you go?" Before I could answer, I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

When a Moretti daughter turns eighteen, her mother places the family necklace around her neck. It means she will be protected by the family for life. But on the day of my twin sister Bella's and my coming-of-age ceremony, my mother removed my rubies and took my twin-star pendant—just so Bella could marry into the Harrison family in style. My gown, my jewelry, and my grandmother's heirlooms all became hers. To force me to fix Bella's necklace, they locked the estate, took my phone, and made me miss my Columbia University interview. My ten fingers were left bloody, but my mother gave all the credit to Bella. That was when I finally understood—they had never seen me as a daughter of the Moretti family. So before the coming-of-age ball, I accepted Columbia's offer, packed my grandmother's jewelry tools, and left without a word. They thought I'd have nothing without the family's protection. Until they realized— The Moretti family hadn't lost an extra daughter. They'd lost their only jewelry genius.

Raffaele Moretti, the Mafia Don, once made me a promise. If I proposed to him fifty-one times on livestream for the whole world to see, he would show up for the fifty-second and finally make our relationship public. But when the night of my fifty-second proposal came, Raffaele was in the Maldives with his childhood sweetheart, Gianna. He bought her an entire yacht just to put a smile back on her face. I became the laughingstock of the internet. Later, he sent me an apologetic message. “Gianna was upset. I only went with her because she needed a change of scenery. That's why I missed it. Don't read too much into this.” “I'll say yes when you propose for the fifty-third time. Then you'll be my Donna.” Sure enough, he arrived at my fifty-third livestream in a perfectly tailored suit. And as he watched, I set fire to all fifty-two letters I had written asking him to marry me. Hidden among them was my liver cancer diagnosis. "There won't be a fifty-third chance, Raffaele." Because in a matter of days, I would be dead.

My husband, Victor Moretti, is the Don of the most powerful Mafia family in New York. Everyone knows he loves me more than his own life. But no one knows how many things his love forbids. He never lets me swim because he says my eyes are too sensitive to chlorine. He never lets me touch a gun because the smell of gunpowder and the recoil would hurt me. When I tell him I want a tattoo, he refuses that too. “I love every inch of your skin,” he says. “I don’t want anything covering it.” But anyone who has known me for long knows I grew up by the sea. Diving has always been what I’m best at. And getting a tattoo has been at the top of my bucket list for as long as I can remember. That afternoon, I receive a text saying that I have voluntarily given up my place at the Royal Academy of Music. I freeze. Victor told me the Academy had rejected me because I wasn’t qualified. My fingers tighten around my phone as I head straight to the private club to find him. But when I reach the door, I hear a woman speaking inside. “Victor, I just wish my sister were still alive. Then you wouldn’t have to look at her eyes and be reminded of her every day.” My blood seems to freeze in my veins. Five years ago, I underwent a corneal transplant.

Someone had posted a private video on the dark web of the underground world. In the video, a naked woman was sitting on top of a man. The comment section was flooded with messages: “So fucking hot. She’s unbelievably sexy.” My gaze swept across the man’s body, and in that instant, I felt as if lightning had struck me. A black ring glinted on his hand, which was wrapped around the woman's waist. It was the wedding ring my husband Edward, the Don of the Family , and I had designed together.

For eight years, Damian Caruso kept me as his secret wife. I handled his family's lawsuits, protected his empire, and raised the son he refused to acknowledge in public. Ethan wasn't even allowed to call him Dad when anyone else was around. I told myself Damian had his reasons. Until our son's seventh birthday. Damian promised he would come home. Ethan waited beside an untouched birthday cake until nearly midnight. Damian never showed. Because Sofia Bellini—the childhood friend everyone already treated as Damian's real woman—had the same birthday. And Damian had chosen hers. That night, I stopped waiting. I signed the divorce papers. The next morning, Damian was in such a hurry to rescue Sofia that he signed the documents I placed in front of him without even reading them. He didn't realize he had just given me permission to take Ethan out of New York. Then he moved Sofia into our home—and asked his wife and son to leave so she wouldn't discover we existed. Ethan looked at the father he had spent seven years trying to love and called him "Mr. Caruso." Damian finally looked shaken. But it was already too late. On the day we left, he told me he had to fly abroad to handle a divorce case for a client. I said nothing. Because that divorce case was mine. He was flying across the ocean to finalize the end of our marriage—and he still thought I was just taking our son out of town for a few days.