Caleb Holloway Novels & Stories

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But somehow, it lingered. As they’d reached their late 20s, Caleb retired from the force and became a domestic pilot. He traveled a lot, though lately, he’d been home more often, which made Caitlin happy. Sometimes, on the weekends, he flew daredevil shows in small, local airplanes, to the delight of thousands of onlookers. He would soar in huge circles in the sky, dive down, then rise at the last second. Kids loved watching him, though Caitlin’s heart sank every time he got in the cockpit. She just wanted him to be safe.

His reflection in the glass behind the bar looked like a ghost of the man he used to be—a ghost who was unraveling, thread by thread. How did he end up here. Amara was never supposed to find out. The bartender approached. “Another?” Caleb ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. Sure.” As the man poured, Caleb’s phone buzzed. Unknown Number: You need to rethink your strategy. Public smears are sloppy. We warned you. Caleb’s grip tightened. Fury running through his veins. He replied: She’s winning. Hale is involved. I need options. The response was instantaneous:

- C XOXO 📝 Caleb Draven

Thanks to the first few shots, she was somehow comfortable with the camera now. She walked towards the middle and Caleb did the same. To reduce the awkward atmosphere, she smiled at the adorable kid but he just ignored her. Well… that was awkward. They finished the shots without a hitch. She went back to the dressing room to change her outfit when they heard the staff gossiping about Caleb’s father. “Who is Caleb’s father? Was he a famous actor or a model?” She asked Sierra who was busy fixing up her makeup for her. “Neither of the two. Caleb’s father was the famous business tycoon, Callum Suarez.” Sierra chuckled.

I’m more prepared this time. Tomorrow, I continue the plan. For the first time since all of this started, I’m not scared of what Owen might do next. The fear that used to sit heavily in my chest is mostly gone. After watching my parents tear down my door like I was nothing, after realizing how easily people who are supposed to protect you can hurt you, Owen Kyle loses his power. He can glare, threaten, watch me all he wants; none of it compares to what I’ve already survived. I don’t feel reckless. I feel steady. Almost excited. Like, I finally understand that I have nothing left to lose.

"Impossible! Nakita ka naming lumubog kasama ng barko!" ​Isang holographic feed ang lumabas. Makikita roon si Caleb vander Holt, pero kalahati ng kanyang mukha ay balot na ng cybernetic implants. Hindi siya namatay; siya ay "inayos" ng Order.

Caleb, in a languid manner, asked, "Am I supposed to address you as Lady Harper in private then?" Willow resigned herself to Caleb's behavior. His volatile demeanor provided a convenient barrier against unwelcome visitors, though, so she chose to keep him around. She had also spoken with Braxton, the CEO of Aegis Group, where their conversation was strictly professional, filled with business pleasantries. Caleb, sitting on the coffee table with his long legs stretched out, chewed his gum and said, "You and Julian are basically the same—two of a kind, both full of hypocrisy."

This isn’t Ryker, either, so it must be Tenebris. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he says as he sits down next to me. “Ruin introduced me as Tenebris, but since you’re family now, you can call me Caleb.” I turn my head toward him and frown. The acrid scent coming from him doesn’t match his soft voice or his seemingly gentle demeanor. Using Halo’s gift, I close my eyes and reopen them so I can get a good look at him. But even how he looks surprises me.

The door was cracked open, rain sheeting off the metal awning, and there he was — shirtless as always, even in the storm, lifting weights under the single hanging bulb. Caleb moved in six months ago. Single, quiet, kept to himself. Early thirties, maybe. Dark hair that fell into his eyes when he worked out, tattoos curling over one shoulder and down his ribs, body carved from years of discipline. We’d exchanged the bare minimum: a nod over the fence when I watered plants, a quick “nice weather” when we both happened to be outside at the same time. But I’d watched him. A lot. The way sweat traced the lines of his abs, how his biceps flexed when he curled, the low grunt he let out on the last