Countdown To Nothingness Novels & Stories

The plane touched down in Tripoli at dusk. Behind me, the sky was on fire. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to my husband, Don Vito Hart. [I'm here. I came to bring you home.] No reply. I called his underboss, Enzo Stark. His voice was hesitant. "You… you really went to Libya?" An explosion rattled the terminal windows. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Which district is he in?" A long pause. Then, quieter: "He never left the country." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "The business trip… it was a lie." The line went dead. A photo appeared on my screen. Time-stamped today. Vito was smiling. Bright, but something behind his eyes looked tired. His arm was wrapped around a woman. They were blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I recognized her instantly. Rosa Quinn. The woman he'd knelt and sworn on his mother's grave never to see again. Three years ago. I still had the scar on my own palm where I'd made him swear. Vito had forgotten. Today was my birthday too. My phone buzzed again. "Sera, the truth is—the Don never ended things with Rosa. We all knew. But you two seemed so happy… no one dared tell you." I read the message twice. Then I slipped the phone into my pocket. There was no need to pretend anymore.

Celeste Lodge has been married to Terence Ford for three years. He's hated her guts the whole time. The day Winona Ford returns, he finally can't take it anymore and begins planning to fake his death so he can run away with her. "I'll fake my death in one month. I'll give up my position as heir to the Ford family and be with Winona forever." Hearing this from outside the operating room, Celeste Lodge immediately contacts a lawyer to draft divorce papers. Then, she calls her brother, Hayden Lodge, who lives abroad. "Hayden, I'm done with Terence. I'm ready to leave and live overseas with you."

My mate and my own brother both fell for a low-born Omega. My mate, Kael, kept delaying our Mating Ceremony. “Elara, you were born to be the perfect Luna. She… she has nothing. Just give it time, okay?” My brother, Liam, broke the vow he made to our dying mother. “Dahlia is so helpless, Elara. My duty to protect you extends to her. She needs it more.” On our birthday, Kael chose to comfort a hysterical Dahlia. On the anniversary of my mother's death, Liam was with Dahlia, getting her newly adopted pet treated at the vet. And when they stood on stage with her at the Wolf Summit, accepting the strategic planning award that was mine… I severed my link to the pack and left for good. But when they finally realized they could no longer feel my presence… The two men who cast me aside for a lowborn Omega tore the world apart, desperate for just one trace of me.

I woke up, and I was 28 again. I had twin heirs, and my husband was Santino, Veridia's most feared Mafia Don. He sat at the head of the Commission of the Five Families. His sharp profile was a fixture on the cover of the underworld's most exclusive magazine for several consecutive issues. Even the oldest Valerian families were lining up to offer him their daughters. All the women in Altoria envied my good fortune. But the first thing I did after waking up was pick up the divorce papers, the ink still fresh, and handed them to his childhood sweetheart, Jessy. "My lawyer will handle the divorce. The properties and assets are yours. Santino is yours. The children are yours, too." Sitting across from me, Jessy couldn't believe it, her eyes wide with shock. "Are you crazy, Alessia? Is this some kind of trick?" "How could the woman who has been Donna for six years give it all up so easily?" I lowered my gaze, my tone calm. "Since they all prefer you, I figured it was time to step aside." "Just have Santino sign it and press his signet ring into the wax seal." "Once the divorce is final, I'll leave Veridia for good." This time, I would not make the same mistake. I would never again be a Donna in name only.

Five years into my marriage to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Outfit, the entire underworld knew he loved me more than life itself. He’d had a violin—for me—tattooed right next to his family crest, a symbol of loyalty that could never be erased. Until I got the photo from his mistress. A cocktail waitress, sprawled naked in his arms, her skin marred by the dark bruises of rough sex. She had scrawled her name right next to the violin he’d gotten for me. And my husband had let her. "Dante says only being inside me makes him feel like a man anymore. You can’t even get him hard anymore, can you, sweet Alessia? Maybe it’s time to step aside." I didn't reply. I just made a single call. “I need a new identity. And a plane ticket out.”

I’ve got a killer hourglass figure and siren eyes. In Hollywood, I’m the ultimate sex symbol. But after five years in this town, not a single producer would dare lay a finger on me. Because the man in my bed is Don Vincenzo, the most ruthless mafia boss in New York. Seven years together. Every time we finished, he’d hold me close, kiss me, and carry me to the bathroom to clean me up. I naively thought I’d be the only woman by his side. That I'd even be his Donna. Until the night of my 28th birthday. After the family dinner, I heard him sneer to his underboss: "Chloe is fun to play with, but for my Donna, I have other options." In that instant, I ripped out my cheap, pathetic heart. I became exactly what he wanted: a perfect mistress who only cared about his money. But Vincenzo didn't seem to like that. His dark, dangerous eyes locked onto mine. "Besides this Manhattan penthouse, is there really nothing else you want from me?" I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a fake gasp of surprise. "You mean I can pick out a Ferrari, too?"

Carra Reed was investigating a crime scene when she was attacked by a giant black wolf. While trying to get away, the powerful jaw of the big canine got hold of one of her legs. Carra's agonizing scream was muffled by a massive explosion which turned the whole place into an inferno. As her consciousness faded into nothingness, the last thing Carra saw, was the great evil in the grey eyes of the canine. When she woke up, Carra found herself jn a different body and timeline entirely. In this epic fantasy-romance, medieval world, Carra would face arranged marriages with the ruling Lycan clan, troublesome family, supernatural mysteries and the Grey eyed wolf. There are humans, Machans (humans with wolf traits), Lycans (wolf shapeshifters), Vampires (blood spectrals), Lamians (humans with spectral traits). And war. This is a tale like no other.

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

My daughter, who'd always hated the cold, suddenly started begging to vacation in the freezing Northern Territories. I dismissed it as a passing whim and told her no. I never thought she'd actually soak herself in a tub of ice for two days straight, just to prove she wasn't afraid of the cold. I gave in. I took her north. My mate, Cassian, stayed behind to handle pack affairs. The North was bitter. After only a few days, my daughter started showing signs of cold-sickness, coughing constantly. I wasn't going to gamble with her health. I decided to bring her home immediately. But my daughter threw a fit. At the time, I thought she just loved the North too much to leave. Until I happened to overhear her conversation with my husband, Cassian: "Daddy! These last few days in the North, I put scent-blocker in Mommy's water every single day! Aren't I clever? Now she'd never find out about you and Auntie Kayla!" "Mommy is so annoying, always nagging! I wish Auntie Kayla were my mommy instead!" I stood there cold, watching the cozy little scene inside the room, gripping the vial of scent-blocker I'd just dug out of my daughter's backpack — the drug meant to numb the link between Cassian and me. Fine. If they loved Kayla so much, then let them have her. I'd give them my blessing. So why, after I gave you everything you wanted, did the three of you end up on your knees begging for my forgiveness?

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"