Book Number 4 Novels & Stories

"Then every clue is another move." "And every answer..." Samuel finished. "...creates a new question." As they prepared to leave, Michael examined the inside of Locker 317 one final time. Something caught his eye. A tiny scratch on the metal floor. He knelt. It wasn't a scratch. It was a number. Carefully engraved into the steel. 0419 Grace looked puzzled. "A code?" Justice Sani photographed it. "It could be." Amara stared at the four digits. Something about them felt familiar.

She turned, and to her surprise, it opened softly. Inside it, was another key, large and gold. “Take it,” he said. “It belongs to you.” Caitlin reached in and took the key, her mind racing. It was heavy, smooth. She could feel an incredible power coming off of it. “It is one of the four keys,” the man said. “Only you can find the other three. When you have all four, you will meet your father. And he will give you the Shield. “You are on a very sacred mission,” he added. “You must find him. For all of us.”

This place seems more extensive than on video. "Fuck, this place is a total wreck," Gunnar proclaims. "It's like a hurricane hit here." "Kendall, got on a reading?" I ask her. Her infrared gadget tells us it is beeping if anybody is done here. "I see four live bodies, but they are strapped on the other side of that door straight ahead." "There are more?" Gunnar says softly. We approached forward towards a keycard door. I stepped back, let Gunnar implant a C4 paste on the handle, and pressed the button. As we took a step back a few feet while the bomb beeps, it gave out a soundless explosion and opened the door.

“unlucky contestants…shelf two, book thirteen.” It sounded oddly like a personal note. My curiosity won out and I skimmed my fingers along the spines of the books until I chose one at random. I pulled out a medium-sized book, a deep shade of navy blue. Earthen twine was wrapped around the book, and there was a picture on the front. A middle-aged man with chocolate hair and dark eyes smiled up at me. The cover of the book read, “Arthur Zimmerman, Game 71.

I asked, terrified as I looked at the picture. “Look at the picture, Adrian. Tell me what you see.” Thalia grabbed my phone, and then her eyes went wide. “OH. MY. GODDESS.” “What?” I asked. Aiden came behind me and cursed under his breath. “Isaiah, where was this taken?” “Northwest. Another human city. I’ll send you and Adrian the address.” “Can someone fill me in? What do you see in this picture?” Thalia looked at me like I was stupid. “She is holding her stomach, Adrian. She is probably pregnant.”

BDSM: Slave 24/7 Plus more bonus chapters of all the characters you've come to love. Brody and Kylie's Story is Book 3 right after Daniel and Natalia.

My family believed in democracy. Every decision was settled by a family vote. Dad, Mom, my brother Dylan Conley, and my sister Tessa Conley each got one vote. So did I. The problem was, four against one meant I never won. During my junior year of high school, my brother wanted a new computer. The vote was four to one. The money I'd saved for three years of tutoring was gone. In senior year, when it was time to submit college applications, I earned early admission to Northbridge University, but Tessa cried and said she couldn't stand the thought of me moving so far away. So the family held another vote. Dad pinned my application form beneath his hand. "Majority rules. You're going to

Grandfather never got angry like Grandmother did, but this time was different. When Bruno found a book full of lines and numbers and asked what it was, his Grandfather turned hostile. He snatched the book away and locked it in a safe. Whatever was in that book must be important. Maybe it was related to what they were planning. Bruno remembered the way his grandfather turned the knob whispering the numbers under his breath. “45…16..72” Bruno only needed to hear it once to remember. The book is probably still inside. Bruno reached into his pocket to touch the stitched heart.

"Give it here." I handed him the journal. He didn't use a knife; he used the sharp, precise edge of his thumbnail to slice cleanly through the aged adhesive binding the back fabric. With a soft tear, the lining peeled away, revealing a single, folded strip of grid paper hidden in the recess of the spine. Niccolò unfolded it. Written in my mother’s elegant, sweeping script were four digits: [ 8 - 4 - 1 - 9 ] "Halfway there," Niccolò murmured, his thumb running over the ink. He looked out the window as the trees cleared, revealing the weathered stone walls of St. Jude’s Parish sitting atop a lonely hill overlooking the valley.

More, and more. End of Book 1