Amira West Leaked Novels & Stories

And it started with another leak. It was just past midnight. Damian had gone to bed hours ago, but I sat curled up on the living room couch, buried beneath application files, trying to retrace every step, every decision. My laptop buzzed beside me with spreadsheet after spreadsheet of our applicant notes. I had read them all, over and over. Trying to prove to myself that we had done the right thing. Then my phone lit up. I almost didn’t check. But habit won. "Exclusive: Leaked Ranking Docs Reveal Amara’s Pretty Preference?"

“Then you’re braver than you think.” She wanted to collapse into him, to let his certainty shield her from the storm. But before she could, his phone buzzed. He frowned, pulling it from his pocket. The color drained from his face as he scanned the screen. “What is it?” Amara asked, dread knotting in her stomach. He turned the phone so she could see. A new headline blared across it: Community Rising Leader in Secret Scandal? Footage Sparks Questions About Integrity Beneath the headline was a still frame from the leaked video, Amara and Liam leaving her flat, their intimacy framed as evidence of impropriety.

That cursed mate bond threw her off. “I’ll go take a leak,” Amira replied, sitting up and adjusting her pants. It really was just… there… pointing forwards. Amira covered her groin casually and traipsed away from the campsite. She could see from the corner of her eyes Zev and Baltir sharing a perplexed glance and heard them comment about her choice of words. “A leak?”

A single photo leaked to the underworld — Amara Varela, standing at the gates of the Moretti estate, wearing her father's ring,flanked by Silva and Mateo. It was declaration. It was war. And it worked. The message came that night. No return address. Just three words. I'm coming home.

Grace Amira was a goddess of miracles and pettiness. Not only had she gotten a stamp with my petty signature made, but she had set up a workflow between the transfer system and the pack’s messaging system to tell everyone who was transferring that they had a week to get out or they would be escorted forcibly, and two weeks after that to get their addresses and things changed. She even had farewell postcards and information packets in the transfer packets to be delivered to the individuals leaving. How she managed to get them all printed, stamped with my signature, signed, and delivered before the end of the week, I had no idea, but I loved the enthusiasm.

> “Wait… so James cheated first?” > “Lila set her up? That’s evil.” > “Maybe Amara didn’t cheat. Maybe she was framed.” > Amara leaned back, a slow, cold smile spreading across her lips. Let them burn. Her phone buzzed again, this time with a name that made her blood run cold. Lila. She answered. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s happening,” Lila snapped, her voice sharp with panic, a brittle desperation Amara had never heard before. “You did this. You leaked those photos. You think because you’ve got some billionaire on a leash now, you’ve won?”

“Not believe—know. He has other women. We escaped, but others didn’t.” The host leaned in. “Why come forward now?” Amira looked into the camera. “Because he sent me a sonogram in the mail. Because he’s still trying to control my body, even from a distance. And because if we don’t expose him, he’ll just find another woman to trap.” Later that day… Dominic stood in the center of his high-rise office, arms folded as the TV blared. His jaw tightened with every word Amira spoke. “She has no idea what she’s started,” he said under his breath.

Without realizing it, she muttered under her breath, “How come he looks so handsome?” Leo tugged on his leash, pulling her out of her thoughts. She shook her head and added bitterly, “Not everything that looks good is good.” She turned on her heel and walked away, refusing to let the sight of him invade her peace. Later that afternoon, Amira sat on her couch, scrolling through her I*******m feed while Leo lay lazily at her feet. Her thumb froze when a post popped up—an announcement for the grand opening of a luxury business in America. Her eyes widened as she read the caption: “Aiden Laurent ventures overseas! New beginnings, new horizons.”

Perfect. My phone rang and I saw Amira’s name flashed across the screen. A call I was waiting for. “Tell me,” I purred, answering immediately. “Did she really take the bait?” “She did,” Amira confirmed. “Lena’s locked in as the lead photographer. Did some preview shots with me and Tyler earlier.” I smirked. “Perfect.” Amira hesitated for a moment. “You’re sure this will work?”

“What is she paying you monthly to defend her?” Another mic dug toward Emerson’s face. “What is she to you?” Farther back in the shadows, unnoticed by most, Amira stepped out of the club. Her lipstick glowed faintly under the dim streetlights, and the corner of her lips curled upward in a small, poisonous smile. She folded her hands around her coat, watching everything with dark satisfaction. “Which media outlet are you from?” Emerson finally responded, his voice suddenly cold. “How dare you spread false rumors? I can sue you right now.”