Catherine Hale Novels & Stories

Something older and more complicated than that. “Catherine Hale,” he says. Nobody speaks. The name sits in the room like something that has been waiting a very long time to be said out loud. And underneath the kitchen island, out of sight, my hands are not entirely steady. Because Catherine Hale is Patricia Hale’s sister. And Patricia Hale signed an NDA with Victor Blackwood six years ago. And this is no longer a conspiracy that started fourteen months ago. This started long before any of us were looking.

I almost cried. Cynthia remained calm while scrolling through the pictures one after another. “This is Mr. Hale’s grandfather, Richard Hale. He is the most important person tonight.” I nodded quickly. “He likes respectful people. Do not argue with him. Do not interrupt him while he speaks.” “Okay.” She moved to the next picture. “This is Dominic’s aunt, Veronica Hale. She enjoys criticizing people, so do not take her words personally.” My eyes widened slightly. “She criticizes people for fun?” “Sometimes.”

“She’s losing too much blood we need to get her to theatre.” A doctor pressed a call button on the wall, and more nurses rushed in. I was ushered back to the waiting room, where I paced for what felt like hours. Jack tried to get me to sit down but I was too antsy to sit still. I paced and tried calling Amelia until the doctor finally appeared. “Are you Leah’s family?” “Logan Carter. How is she?” I nodded. “She’s in recovery. The stab wound has caused a lot of blood loss. We managed to stem the bleed; she will be coming round the from the anesthetic shortly.”

"I am Alpha Ezekiel, this is the Bloodhound pack. And you are a rouge in my house, surrounded by my warriors, and my pack of 1500 men. You're not the one with the power here, I am. So when I ask a question I except it answered. Now. Who. Are. You?" I clenched my jaw in frustration, he was right. I had no power. No choice. He could do anything to me right now. And I wouldn't have any help or any way to stop him. I nearly reached at the thought. I was fucked. Royally. With that in mind I responded to his question; "Cecil." "And where did you came from? Are there any more like you?" He fired the questions in quick succession. "The East Coast, I travel alone and have not come across another fema

The people parted to let her pass, watching in awe as her graceful steps led her to where her first husband sat on his throne. Catherine took her usual place in his lap, her eyes narrowing as the door was thrown open again, revealing the tall, cocoa-colored Eliana, her left hand pushing an even more haggard Circe in front of her. Her face was no longer recognizable, twisted as it was because of her use of dark Majyk, and her hair seemed more like straw, giving her the ugly appearance of an old witch. Before anyone could say anything, a chill settled in the room and Catherine’s eyes widened in horror, her hand lifting to cover her mouth.

Other than that, she is pretty good at hiding anything else. I have to be careful around her, or I don’t know if I’m able to control myself. I mean, just a glance is enough to screw my mind. I don’t even know what would have happened if I hadn’t left the bathroom. I guess that was what Rachel had in her mind before attempting to act by throwing the only piece of clothes that was covering her nudity. I don’t want to control my feelings, but I have to if I want to give Rachel what she deserves all this time.

“Their majesties, Emperor Clyde Westernia, Empress Rosita Westernia… their highnesses, first prince, Prince Noah Westernia, second prince, Prince Benjamin Westernia… together with the Grand Duke Dave Whistleton, Duchess Morticia Chase Whistleton, their son, young lord Damian Whistleton and daughter, lady Clementine Whistleton,” the announcer shouted to get everyone’s attention. When the door in front of us opened, we went down through the stairs. Everyone’s clapping and whispering as we enter the banquet hall.

"Huh, should it seem as if they were killed by a serial killers? No too dark." Even though it wasn't her first kill, it felt different. The sensation that rushed through her spine when his blood splattered on her left cheek was exhilarating. The unrelated lives she took in her previous line of work never made her feel anything, no remorse, no closure, nothing. But she was now different, sort of reborn, driven by a vengeful thirst for blood. She was now Qiao Mo, the secretary to the President of of the Wushi Cooperation, and she was running late for work.