14 Hundred Hours Novels & Stories

Anthony's POV Another reporter raised a hand quickly. “And how many hours a day are you training currently?” Cole answered again without hesitation. “Between six to eight hours total,” he said. “On and off ice combined. Sometimes more depending on what needs correction.” A murmur moved through the room, but I barely heard it. My mind was still half inside the rink. Because what they did not see was the repetition behind those hours. The same lift done twenty times until it stopped feeling like effort and started feeling like instinct.

"You have four tabs open and you're on a call." "The call is muted, I'm just listening." He set the coffee on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He gave me that specific look—the one that said he knew he'd lost and was now just figuring out how to retreat gracefully. "One hour of actual nothing," he said. "Per day. Non-negotiable." "Forty-five minutes." "One hour." "Fine." I unmuted the call. "One hour." "Thank you," he said.

But by the time we land in Dubai, you’re going to realize that even a masterpiece has a breaking point. The flight was fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of Linda’s poison and Adrian’s cold games. This wasn't a honeymoon. It was a war.

120 hours, that was all it would take. Kate looked up at the sky, 119:53:42 shone in the blue of the afternoon. The time was enchanted across the sky, a magic that had been lent from another kingdom. The alpha's first bite ceased to be effective in 119 hours, 53 minutes, and 27, 26, 25 seconds. Kate counted down, grateful for each second that passed in their favor.

“Uh, every day, why?” “What are your hours?” “What does this have to do with anything?” “Just answer the question.” “Usually, I’m here by 5:30 and stay until closing at 10.” “5:30 AM or PM?” I scoffed. “AM of course.” “So every day you are working fourteen plus hours? And then go home and stay up all night hacking? When do you sleep?” I sighed. “That’s only when I’m obsessively on a trail, you know, when I’m close to something.”

Audrey said pushing down the blame on Keith's mother. Keith dropped his phone and reached for his notepad. "How to make a woman fall madly in love with you in a hundred and twenty days," Keith read aloud and frowned. "Isn't that too long?" He thought as he calculated how many months make up the number of days. "You got to be kidding me, three months and a week," Keith asked but the article proved him wrong as he read it. He wrote down the key things he needed before moving to the next article.

Daniel nodded as if he had expected that. “Forty-eight to seventy-two hours is a lot of hours.” I gave a weak laugh. “It is.” “How many exactly?” “Forty-eight to seventy-two.” He gave me a look. “Mom.” Lucian’s mouth twitched. I sighed. “Two to three days.” Daniel considered this with the grave seriousness of a person negotiating with time itself. “That’s not fair.” “No.” “They should have a faster machine.” “I agree.” “Or a truth button.”

EMILIA POV Twelve years. I did the math obsessively in the dark, my mind churning through the numbers like a frantic calculator, desperately trying to find a mathematical formula that would make the guilt stop burning. Four thousand, three hundred and eighty days. Fifty-two thousand, five hundred and sixty hours. Three million, one hundred and fifty-three thousand, six hundred minutes.

Eighteen hours. The plan changes. We have eighteen hours to find Michael Chen, identify the activation mechanism, neutralize whatever Adrian has planted in the signing ceremony, and ensure that when Celeste Laurent puts her signature on that document, she's not also signing something else entirely. Eighteen hours. We get to work.

Malisha calmly says. "You need as much time as you can get. I suggest a minimum of three hours," He counter offers. Malisha shakes her head. "I think NOT. If you can't take an hour, I will no train until I am home." They both look at each other without breaking eye contact. "Fine." Malisha gives him a grin knowing her request made him slightly annoyed. "So, what is the plan, teacher?" His jaw tightens slightly at the nickname. "Controlled exposure."