Controlling Novels & Stories

he said finally, voice steady, “your goal isn’t just chaos. It’s control. We will make them think they discover things, but we will control everything that happens. Timing is everything. I nodded, eyes fixed on the screen. “I understand. Every move has to hit at the right moment. No mistakes.” All the hours passed as I updated posts and checked forums and cross-referenced every comment. I refreshed notifications, watching the chaos unfold and hoping it stayed on the tracks I had laid. Liora had no idea. Garrick had no idea. Adrian—well, he knew, but he had agreed to wait.

🖤Alexandra🖤 I picked up the spoon again, taking another bite of the food like the conversation wasn’t important, even though I was watching him from the corner of my eyes. “Control,” I added, “control is real. Control keeps things where they should be. Predictable. Stable.” That’s what I understand. That’s what I trust. Jacob moved then, slowly walking around the counter until he was standing right in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to keep eye contact.

Dad and uncle Tony seemed interested in what he was saying because truth be told his idea was smart and innovative. Then he stood up and turned on the TV in the office, now it had gotten to the interesting part, the part we were all waiting for, me more than others. He quickly linked the TV with his laptop, so he could just control everything from there, then he inserted the flash drive and I tried to resist the urge to laugh, Tristan just looked at me with raised brows. "Are you okay"? He whispered and I just nodded and focused my attention back on Ethan. Without even going through it, he played the first video on the drive and moans filled the whole room making everyone freeze.

“Same time tomorrow. We’ll start linking the shield to movement so you can walk through town or along the road without lighting up every shifter who gets within range. Static control is only half the skill.” I drank, then capped the bottle. “And if Kael shows up in person before I’ve got any of this perfect?” “Then you use what you have, you keep your head, and you don’t freeze.” His eyes met mine, steady and unflinching. “You’ve already done the hardest part choosing to control the power instead of letting it control you or explode out of you every time strong emotion hits. The rest is repetition and pressure. Both of which you’re getting.”

“I’m not ignoring it. I’m controlling it.” “That’s not control.” “It is to me.” A slight step closer. Not enough to be obvious. But enough. “To you,” he said quietly, “control looks a lot like avoidance.” “That’s your opinion.” “It’s an observation.” “I didn’t ask for it.” “No,” he said. “But you need it.” I shook my head slightly. “You don’t get to decide what I need.” “And you don’t get to pretend this doesn’t affect you.” “It doesn’t.”

(Talon’s POV) Control is everything. In combat, it’s about timing—the precision of a well-timed strike, the instant when everything aligns for victory. In politics, it revolves around perception—how you present yourself to others, how you shape narratives and influence opinions. In survival, it demands restraint—the ability to hold back when your instincts scream to act, to conserve your energies for the right moment.

I quickly shake my head to get those memories out of my head and when I stop he's in front of me. "Good morning." He says still disappointed. And I start to feel bad. "Good morning." I say ashamed. As he wants to leave I want to stop him somehow. "I'm sorry." I apologize. Why am I actually apologizing? He's the control freak who wants me to not go on this date. But I guess I just wanted him to stop. "For what?" He turns to face me again. "I... I was really mean yesterday to you..." I say even more ashamed.

He said. Ginawa ko naman ang sinasabi niya, and I was surprised na iba 'yung feeling ngayong ginagamit ko ang ability ko, like I was able to control it fully. "Now, here's the catch. To be able na i-control 'yan mid-air, you need to focus. Tignan mo kung ilang ugat 'yang ko-kontrolin mo. Tignan mo kung pantay ba ang sukat ng bawat isa, kung gaano ka-effective mo ia-atake. Isipin mong ko-kontrolin mo 'yan." Mahaba niyang litanya, in short, i-observe ko before doing it.

he asked suddenly. The question caught me off guard. I leaned back slightly. “It used to.” “What about now?” “No,” I admitted. “Now it listens.” “How?” “Because I stopped treating it like something to cage.” He frowned. “But everyone keeps saying I have to control it.” “You do,” I agreed. “But control isn’t the same as suppression.” He tilted his head. “What’s the difference?” I thought for a moment. “Suppression is shoving it down and pretending it doesn’t exist. Control is knowing when to let it breathe.”

I lay back, chest rising and falling, the pulse of the house beneath me, and understood fully: control, framed as care, was absolute. And I would endure it—strategically, quietly, and with keen observation.