A Restless Truth Novels & Stories

"We were doing just fine without your interference or your millions." "I did not steal your future because I am your future now," Gideon stated without a trace of remorse in his deep voice. "You can fight that truth until you exhaust yourself, but it will not change the facts of our current situation. The outside world knows you belong to me." "Peace is an illusion for men like me, and you are forever bound to my chaos now," Gideon murmured as the anger in his expression shifted into something far more dangerous. He reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away in a fit of rage.

Then, Red returned. And disturbingly I was relieved to see her. At least she didn’t flinch when she saw me. She brought dried fruits and sweets again, sitting across from me as if she lived here. “Are the visions still coming?” she asked gently. “Yes,” I replied without thinking. “You need to relax,” she said softly. “Your mind’s trying to show you something.” “How do I relax when I’m losing my mind?” I snapped. She tilted her head, almost sympathetically. “You’re not losing it, Luna. You’re just finally seeing the truth, and the truth always feels like madness at first.”

That truth settled deeply through the system. Because emotionally burdened people often become addicted to proving worth through labor. Through achievement. Through emotional service. So eventually— rest begins feeling unsafe. Because stillness removes the illusion of earning your right to exist. But eventually— another truth quietly emerges: rest is not a reward for becoming worthy enough. It is part of being alive. I shifted gently into the network. Not condemning ambition. Just naming another painful truth honestly. “You do not need to destroy yourself before deserving rest.” Silence spread immediately.

He sternly told me if I ever tried it again, I wouldn’t walk back. I still ran…. But this time, I didn’t stop until I found a life worth staying for. Sometimes Raven falls asleep on the couch. She looks like a warrior at rest, which is to say: never truly at peace. But when she sleeps, I see the cracks,the softness,the ache. And I love her more for not hiding it. The chair I built creaks when you shift your weight. Elias says it sounds like it’s telling secrets. I told him maybe it is.

The in-flight announcements and the monotonous drone of the engines served as a backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling within her. The beach resort provided a temporary sanctuary for Asher, a refuge from the complexities waiting for him at home. The night was restless, filled with thoughts that demanded silence. As soon as he landed in his room, the need for peace propelled him to hit the hay, seeking solace in the embrace of sleep. In a twist of fate, Natalie, too, found herself spending the night at the same resort, though in a separate room.

He just don't want to admit at that he messed up on this. "Trust this only thing left after you removed all the impossible. Then this thing must be the final product of what you've processed. Do not think for the other possibility.for the truth must be accepted, even if it breaks your emotions down," the chairman said. "That's my advice for you, dear future detectives." He was already giving advice. I must say he have hit some parts in my emotions. The truth was sweet for some, but sometimes it tastes bitter for someone who have suffered.

But that didn’t mean she would let herself drown in the past. She could pick up and let go as easily as she chose—she wouldn’t linger over someone unworthy even after learning the truth. Having already climbed out of the misery that had bound her for years, she wouldn’t turn back. Her heart was firm and unyielding, and his meaningless words didn’t shake her. She looked at him calmly. “So, you’ve let Camilla go? That means you should understand the emptiness that follows, right? If you’re no longer going to repeat the same mistakes, then why do you need me to give you another chance, Dominic?

I scolded and he frowned at me before hesitantly lowering his gun. "Do you believe this bullshit?" Rafe skeptically asked Mateo and I worriedly looked over at Martha. "Her name is Martha, and she makes coffee, too. Also, cussing is really bad, tío Rafe." I heard Mila saying and I looked down at her in shock. "Sorry, princess," Rafe muttered under his breath. When did she get here? Poor thing. She must've heard everything we said. "Mila's right. Martha is great," I uncomfortably uttered and Mateo shook his head at me. I need her, she's the closest thing I have to finding out the truth.

One of them was lying—Caddal or that stone—and the dissonance left me restless, a storm brewing beneath my skin. I paced my chambers, the polished wooden floor cool against my bare feet, the fire in the hearth doing little to chase away the chill that had taken root in my bones. I needed the truth—untainted, untwisted. Could I have been hating the witches wrongly all this time, cursing a legacy that might not deserve my scorn? My powers, that wild, untamed force pulsing within me, felt blocked, tangled in the lies I’d been fed. Only the truth could free them, could free me. I had to see that stone for myself, to stand where the coven had fallen and sift fact from fiction with my own hands.

I say, strolling back toward her. “Besides Rat Trap on your fake tits, the second game is called Truth: A Little Flesh or Lies: A Lot of Flesh.” I smirk. “Rules are simple. I’m going to adjust our little rat friend, so he’s positioned right above your overpriced silicone tits. Then, I ask a question. As I heat the bucket. You answer and if I believe you, I release a little heat. Vincent over there, he takes part of a finger. But if we think you’re lying?” I glance over at Vinny. “I heat the bucket, and he takes the whole fucking finger.”