Book Red Zone Novels & Stories

Empty. But on the floor just beyond the doorway was another letter. No footsteps. No sound of retreating. Just the wind and the letter, like it had been dropped from the sky. Hands shaking, she picked it up. This one had no name. Inside was just one line: > You waited too long. Elara’s breath caught. She looked outside. And for the first time, she saw the sky was no longer gray. It was red. A deep, unnatural red bleeding across the clouds like someone had spilled blood across the heavens. And there—rising just above the tallest rooftops—was the moon.

She was teasing me, bouncing just a bit, taking me back to the halfway point. She leaned over, her hands outstretched. "Perfectly executed pass down the middle for another first down," she announced, pressing down a little more, as I watched another inch disappear. "They're in the red zone." "Yes, but can they score?" "They've overloaded the left side, three wide-outs streaking for the end zone, it looks like one is wide open, the pass is in the air..." She rose up, drawing almost all the way off, then slid back down, stopping just short of taking me all the way. "NO! He's overthrown. Such a shame."

It settled on me like a new weight. And, disturbingly, fit. “All right,” I said. “Red Streets Run first. Then we reassess.” I stepped toward that stall. The attendant behind its counter—a mannequin with a spray‑painted red stripe where its eyes should have been—raised its featureless head as my band came within range. “RED STREETS RUN,” it intoned. “TEAM ENTRY. 8–16 PLAYERS PER SESSION. ROUND VALUE: MEDIUM. CROWD FAVORABILITY: RISING.”

Aidan smirked arrogantly, but he had underestimated the determination of a trapped bird seeking freedom. "Fine, I'll just play the video. I'm afraid that if I play the recording, you'll argue that it's not you in it." Scarlett held up her phone. As the screen flashed, my chest tightened. I covered her phone, stopping her from continuing. Scarlett struggled, wanting to keep playing it, but I was stronger than her, and she couldn't resist.

"The whole team is waiting. We’re going to The Red Moon. No excuses." "I have a kid to get to, Jordyn—" "Oh, please. Harper’s already at your place watching the pup. Move it!" She dragged me toward the elevators. I didn't miss the way her eyes darted to the unfinished designs on my screen. She wasn't here for unity; she was here to get me away from my work. The Red Moon Lounge was a neon-soaked nightmare in the heart of the mafia-controlled districts. The air was a thick soup of cigar smoke, expensive gin, and the underlying scent of unshifted wolves looking for a fight.