13 Casita Novels & Stories

Henry did the same, and together we rode off with no time to waste. As we left the pack house, we took a sharp turn down a lonely, narrow road leading to Caspadia—Also known as the Land of Deadly Shadows. Caspadia was a land full of broken, abandoned houses eaten up by dust and time. A lifeless city with no animals, no trees, not even a single sign of life. Only dry silence. It was said that Caspadia was once a mighty city. It was home to the largest and most powerful group of pack members who ruled fearlessly, conquering every land they stepped on.

It was thick and hard like an ATM card with some words chiseled on it. It has a six digit number on it, and a logo of a two tulip flower entangled on each other. Serene read the words on top of the ticket. “Casa Roma.” “The Casa Roma was the prestigious hotel freshly built on the Vianca Island. I'm sure you already heard about that island in the east. I stayed there once and they have the best wine ever in the whole continent. It's a good thing they built an official hotel on that place because resort houses was a bit old fashioned for me.” Sydney had gone through the Vianca Island after college graduation. She met few hunks there, but the tourists on the Vianca Island mostly are womanizer.

The driver helped her up and she sat beside her father. "Cassie, how many time have I told you not to anger your mother?" Victor asked not expecting an answer. He looked at her arm; the bruises were already forming from her mother’s hand. Marcella stormed out after her and got in the carriage eyes locked on Cassie. Victor banged the roof of the carriage with his cane. The carriage started toward the main road. "How long will it take us to get there?" Cassie asked her father. "About fourteen hours. So, deal with it," Marcella told her. Cassie looked out the window, the sun had just gone down hopefully she would fall asleep. Not that she needed a lot of sleep. But it would keep her mother from

While in City D Caspian and Sara. They had settled in a small and modest, two-story house, inside a housing development, which adjoined a few meters from the beach, the place was a furnished place, with luxurious details, in spite of how modest it was, it was also cozy, much nicer than the big mansion, and that pleased Sara, she had always seen the mansion too spacious and not very cozy, as for Caspian, in his own words, as long as there was a comfortable, private and furnished place to fuck, his wife didn't care about the rest. She had already, finished settling in, and the man was already, caressing and kissing her, looking for Sara to get aroused, Sara serious of his action, too obvious,

One Month Later The new mansion was in Westchester, far from any major residential houses but close enough that they weren't completely isolated in an emergency. Moving day was organized chaos. The driveway of the new estate, which Maria had already christened The Glass Castle, was filled with unmarked trucks. Movers that had been thoroughly vetted were carrying boxes into the house with clan warriors' precision. Cassie stood in the center of the living room, holding a tablet and a latte. She was wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that couldn't quite hide the small, round bump of her pregnancy.

It was dark inside Carla's safe house. Tension was palpable. The oscillating fan created the only sound, and that faintly, until the massive door creaked open, and Diego entered. His face a mask of exhaustion and barely held fury, he walked towards Carla, seated at the head of the room, her sharp eyes scanning the map spread on the table. Diego’s voice was heavy as he spoke. “I’ve got news, boss.” Carla didn’t look up, her fingers tracing the edges of the map. “Make it quick, Diego. We’ve already lost enough ground.”

Exile's Bitter Taste The abandoned cabin sat like a rotting tooth in the wilderness, fifty miles from pack territory and a world away from anything resembling civilization. Cassie had found it three days after her exile, her survival instincts overriding her rage long enough to secure shelter before the mountain weather could claim her life. Now, a week later, she sat on its sagging porch steps with a stolen radio scanner crackling beside her, listening to the fragments of pack communications that occasionally broke through the static.