Books In The Secret Series Novels & Stories

Taz turn on a small torchlight which he had taken along with him before sneaking inside the sacred library. Every book in the library was about the blood moon beast. Despite the alikeness of all the books, there was a particular one that caught Taz's attention. It was a grey book with ancient inscriptions. He pulled it out, dusted it and hid it inside his garment and hurried out of the hidden room. Unknown to Taz, as he walked out of the room through the secret door and out of the library, the secret room disappeared and there was no secret library there anymore.

What is this place? I took a deep breath and walked inside. It was a secret library. Huge, dusty, and filled with shelves that reached the ceiling. Thousands of old books, scrolls, and leather-bound journals were arranged neatly. This place was untouched for years. "Wow..." I whispered, running my fingers along the dusty shelves. I walked deeper into the room. There were books about history, war strategies, weapons, and ancient languages. But then, I found a section at the very back. Books with glowing titles. Books about magic, energy manipulation, and bloodline secrets.

Present Day Emily lived by one rule: look good, work harder. A rule she had set for herself four years ago. Dressed in black pants and a tucked-in pink shirt, accompanied by a pink leather handbag—she stood in the lobby of City Pulse Press. Looking at her, one would think she feared nothing—but deep down, she panicked at the thought of what awaited her behind the doors of Carol's office. Carol was the only person in the building who could see through Emily's composure.

I didn’t notice it at first…too focused on maintaining my composure…but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw them. The pictures. They slipped from under the duvet, falling to the floor like a stack of forbidden secrets spilling into the light. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the photographs now scattered at her feet. “What is this?” she asked, her voice sharp with curiosity. I froze, my mind racing for an explanation, an excuse…anything that could undo what had just happened. My heart started to beat so loudly and fast, it drowned out the silence in the room. Her hand moved toward the nearest photo, and I watched in horror as she picked it up.

A small stack of books caught my attention—business texts, historical novels, and then, tucked underneath them, a well-worn copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. The sight of it made me smile. Somehow, I couldn’t quite picture Darren poring over a story like that, but the thought of him reading it late at night, in this very room, sent a strange feeling of warmth through my chest. I almost left then. I should have. But something else caught my eye—a picture frame on the dresser, facedown. I shouldn’t have looked. I knew better. But curiosity got the cat, and before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and picked it up.

She stepped inside, the scent of old books and mildew wrapping around her like bad memories. The place was as quiet as a wault, with rows of bookshelves stretching into the distance. A few scattered tables sat under flickering fluorescent lights, and the dust in the air felt thick enough to choke on. Leila found the history section and grabbed the book Tom had mentioned. Eduard Yellen’s "masterpiece" on German aristocracy and their ties to ancient power. It was thick, the kind of book that could double as a doorstop or a weapon, depending on circumstances. She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the boring content, but she wasn’t really reading. Her mind was elsewhere, piecing toget

The room was dusty, cluttered with boxes and furniture, and the detritus of a lifetime. In the corner, on a wooden trunk, sat a stack of leather-bound books. She opened the first one. January 15, 1985. I met a woman today. Her name is Margaret. She's beautiful, intelligent, and completely unafraid of me. I think I'm in love. Isabella read on through the courtship, the marriage, and the birth of her mother. Through Alexander's rise to power, his crimes, and his regrets. Through the years of secrets and lies and the slow destruction of his own soul.

Chapter 4: Jealous Games Alex POV Max’s text sat on my phone like a live grenade for the entire weekend. Every time the screen lit up with a notification, my stomach lurched, expecting another message from him. “I know your secret. Tell them or I will.” The words burned behind my eyes even when the phone was face-down on my nightstand. I didn’t tell Kai right away—I couldn’t bear to see that flash of violence in his eyes again—but by Sunday night, the weight of it was crushing me.

I went straight for the bookshelf, pulling every three books. I'd wandered into the secret room through this office years ago, a few years after he'd picked me up from the streets. I didn't understand then, but now this room is the only place that could hold anything incriminating against the Don. I pulled the books carefully, not to let them fall or upset the order. The only company I had in the silence was my heavy breathing and the shuffling of the books. But nothing. I had tilted every book, and nothing had turned up a secret door.

I thought I could protect myself, but could I really? And did I deserve to be protected? If anything, I would follow him to keep my own thoughts at bay. Steeling myself, I followed him through the secret door. The secret room behind it was full of books. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting – we were in a library, after all – but it wasn’t this: a large table in the centre, overflowing with open books, their spines long since cracked; corkboards on the walls, torn pages of books pinned to them; glossy green houseplants reaching up towards the flickering light.