Caleb Gordon Merch Novels & Stories

announced Yaster as he slowly walked over to Kaleb’s limp body. “Zander Lovewell… You’ll definitely receive the retribution you deserve one day! To think that the Merretts have always been kind and benevolent toward your family… You’re even more despicable than a beast, Zander! I, Kaleb Merrett, hereby vow that I’ll return to haunt you as a ghost if I have to!” growled Kaleb as he gritted his teeth in anger.

And for the first time since the papers were signed, I feel like something other than a failure. Caleb is at the grill, shirtless because it's ninety degrees and he doesn't give a damn what the neighbors think. Twenty-three. Tattooed arms slick with sweat, lean muscle moving under sun-browned skin. He's been redoing my backyard for the past month, always showing up early, staying late, finding excuses to take his shirt off when I'm watching from the kitchen window.

"I can stay for a few days. What is it? I heard you on the phone just now. Are you planning to go abroad?" "Yep, for work." Grace's eyes blinked. "But there are so many things I haven't finished here. I may need your help, Caleb." "Say the word. I'll do everything I can to help." "Amirate and VERE Jewelry are collaborating for the Black Friday sale. We haven't worked out the details of the contract …" Grace dragged it out on purpose, sounding ambiguous. Caleb put his sunglasses on again. "Gracie, you've tricked me again!"

The room seemed to come alive, each element meticulously chosen to create an atmosphere of grandeur and majesty. Caleb, dressed in his royal attire, exuded a commanding presence. His regal robes were a tapestry of deep blues and rich purples, adorned with intricate embroidery and shimmering gemstones that caught the light. His broad shoulders and confident posture showcased his strength and authority, while his kind eyes and warm smile revealed his compassionate nature.

He stepped toward the light, carrying me like a trophy. "They think I'm the asset," Caleb whispered. He looked at the first squad of mercenaries storming through the smoke. "They're about to find out I'm the owner." The first mercenary leveled a silver-tipped rifle. Caleb didn't flinch. He just raised his free hand. The air in the cathedral grew cold. The candles blew out. "Wait," I said, grabbing his shoulder. "Caleb, look at their uniforms." I squinted through the smoke. The mercenaries weren't wearing the Hounds' crest. They were wearing a sigil I hadn't seen in twenty years.

Two blocks away, the athletic board was finalizing the verdict that would strip Caleb of his captaincy, his eligibility, and his future at this school. The bell above the door clinked, a flat metal strike that had my skin going cold before my brain tracked the shadow cutting through the entryway. Caleb Park walked in. No Thornfield blue and silver. Plain black hoodie, hands shoved deep in the pockets, shoulders slouched in a way that made his six-foot frame look smaller. I’d spent months mapping every calculated expression on his face, waiting for the seam where the golden-boy mask met the machinery underneath. This version was new.

I rolled my eyes, hugging my backpack tighter. I leaned against his car, deciding to wait there instead of standing around like some forgotten puppy. But before I could pull out my phone, a shadow blocked the sun. “Fancy seeing you here." I looked up. "Great! Caleb!" Caleb was tall, with broad shoulders filling out his jersey. His skin was a warm brown and his cornrows were pulled tight back from his face, and his mouth was busy chewing gum, loud enough I could hear the pops between words. There was a permanent half-grin plastered on his face as if the world was one big inside joke.

He set his weights and lay down. Micah Stroud, the next man in line, offered to spot him. Caleb didn’t know him well, but they’d nodded hello a few times before. He accepted the offer. Micah stood over him, hands ready. Caleb lifted and grunted, but it was impossible not to notice the heavy bulge in Micah’s gym shorts. He knew that was exactly what Marina was imagining for her birthday present. Caleb finished his workout and headed for the showers. “You were looking good on the press today,” Micah said as he took the shower head next to him. “I’m Micah. I think we’ve met before. You’re Caleb, right?”

"The big game is coming up, and once we win, the endorsement deals will start flowing in." Steve tilted his head, the dark lenses of his sunglasses catching the light. "Mr. Ross doesn't care about your basketball dreams, kid. He cares about his money." "I am…I am working on it," Caleb said as Tommy grabbed hold of his arms, his thick fingers digging into Caleb's biceps like steel clamps. "You can't be seen here," he added, grunting out the last part as his eyes darted around, hoping no one would notice what was going on. The cotton of his t-shirt grew damp with nervous sweat, and he could taste the metallic flavour of fear coating his tongue.

When he leaves I’ll head over. The reply was immediate. C: Need me to knock some sense into him? Sky: Nah. I’m already going to do my best to make him look incompetent today. That’s the goal. C: Got it. I’ll make sure to stand up straight when he shows up. I chuckled. Carl could be so intimidating and with his family actually having Beta and Gamma blood, it would knock Greg down a peg or two. I was just glad I had a window seat viewing the garage. The doors slid up as Carl started to open for the day at 7 a.m. Swapping out of that conversation, the last message was from Caleb.