Amarrada Novela Novels & Stories

I looked at him, my expression filled with fake concern. “Amara is going to China… with Mr Adrian.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?” I nodded slowly. “I overheard some people talking about it. Something about a project… a voice system or something like that.” He looked confused. “She didn’t mention anything like that.” Exactly. I let out a small sigh. “Maybe she forgot,” I said, but my tone carried doubt. He did not speak. So I continued. “They said it’s a big project, probably the one she presented the last time. And now Mr Adrian personally chose to go with her and also handle the project as her supervisor.”

Amara said with a sniffle, on the brink of tears, while a few eyes turned toward her. “I beg to take my leave,” she excused herself from Luna Anita. Amara hurried back to her room, her heart heavy with emotion as the brothers’ departure replayed in her mind. She could feel the weight of the silver crescent moon necklace around her neck—a constant reminder of Darius’s words. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Damon—to the kiss, the hug, and the strange confession that had left her shaken and confused. As she pushed the door to her room open, her emotions finally caught up with her. She closed the door behind her, sinking to the floor as tears began to fall.

I creased my eyebrows when I noticed a piece of paper on the bedside table near the lamp because I couldn't remember placing any piece of paper on the table. I walked to the foot of the table and carefully picked the paper. A deep frown settled on my face when I realised that it was not my handwriting but rather, Amara's. I was so curious to read it because it was unlike her to write me a letter. She's was so courageous, she always walked into my room without my permission to confront me if something is burning her. "I, Amara Parker of Mist pack, reject you Nicholas Adams as my fated mate!"

Yet Liam’s eyes met his with a steady, unwavering intensity, sharp and unflinching, a silent warning that any attempt to claim Amara through nostalgia alone would be met with quiet but resolute opposition. Amara’s mind raced, the fragment of the letter she had received earlier flickering in her thoughts like a candle struggling against a gust of wind. The words inside it had shifted something fundamental in her understanding of loyalty, love, and truth. The letter hinted at secrets long buried, actions concealed, and intentions that threatened to unravel the delicate balance of her relationships. It was not just a letter; it was a pivot point, a catalyst capable of altering everything she th

Then: “Damian? Your husband? The man whose men kidnapped you from our home and brought you back married?” Amara winced. “They didn’t kidnap me, Mama. I went with them willingly. I chose this.” “And why? i dont understand” Lena’s voice cracked. “Why would you marry a man you barely know? Why would you leave your home, your life, your mother—for a man who lives like a ghost in a tower?” Amara closed her eyes. She wanted to tell her. She ached to. But the truth was a blade—sharp, dangerous, capable of cutting everyone it touched.