Cradle Snatcher Novels & Stories

Melody’s POV Slowly, I took each step, my feet dragging against the sand, my black boots making unexpected noises. I stared at the exterior of the house. It was rough and sketchy! The place where I was, the house of one of the most wanted criminals, was my assignment to catch him and put him behind bars. I walked to the open hook of the door, the flashing neon lights catching my eyes in a mix of blue and red, making my vision blurred. The dimly lit room and the sounds of...

I'm a walking time bomb. My phone chimed with a notification, a jarringly normal sound. I quickly pulled it out, desperate for a distraction. It was an I*******m post from Kade Salvatore. My thumb moved on its own, swiftly clicking on it, and an immediate, familiar flutter of joy filled my chest, a stark contrast to the hollow ache that had been there moments before.

"Nasty? How can I compare to someone like you, who stole someone else's credit and kept on lying for over a decade?" As I spoke, I pulled out a thick pile of documents and tossed them right into Jayden's face. He skimmed the pages, and the rage on his face froze as his whole body began to tremble. "Lauren, it really was you…" Nellie quickly went over. The moment her eyes met the document, she froze in place. "No, no… Jayden, I was the one who saved your grandma! I swear!" Nellie clung to Jayden's arm and tugged him, but Jayden simply shoved her away. She fell hard onto the curb, and blood began to pour out from the wound on her head. She screamed in pain, tugging at Jayden, crying that it hu

“You’re sleeping with him.” I froze. “That’s none of your business.” “Which means yes.” She smirked through the line. “What do you need?” “I want you to keep an eye on him. Discreetly. Don’t make contact. Just… make sure he’s safe.” “From what?” “I don’t know yet.” I rubbed my temples. “But whoever killed Clara wanted him to suffer. That photo wasn’t just a message—it was bait.” “Bait for what?” “To see what he’d do. To see if he’d run.”

"I'm the Conquest System. As long as you can win over the beastfolk of your choice within a year, you'll be given a new life." The moment the system finished speaking, my older sister, Violette Snow, scampered off. She scooped up a badly injured wild bird from the ground and gently stroked its charred black feathers. "System, I choose this bird to be my conquest target." She made her choice at lightning speed, afraid that I'd steal her target from her. Then, she turned to me with a cheeky expression, but I saw the warning look in her eyes.

I grabbed the box and slid my male body into the high driver's seat. The inside possessed that intoxicating, rich scent of a brand-new machine. It was a custom Midnight Wolf Runner, straight from the syndicate's elite holdings. I broke the seal on the red box and found a brand-new glowing communication crystal. As I lifted the crystal from its nest, a heavy sheet of parchment drifted onto my lap. It read:

Every single person at the table is staring at me. “Alpha Hall,” Lilith repeats softly, savoring each syllable. Faye clapped her hands lightly. “Oh good. We’re all rooming together. How domestic.” I scan the table again. Alaric is watching.Not amused. Not surprised. Just satisfied. As if this outcome had already been calculated, decided and he knew the end game. The stained-glass window at the far end of the hall caught my attention again—sunlight pouring through fractured images of humans battling something monstrous. Shapes drawn in gold and shadow. Limbs too long. Eyes too hollow.

My Luna. But now, standing here, faced with the reality that Claire was not just an ordinary agent but the head of the very agency that had become my second family, a profound sense of duty washed over me. The shock gradually transformed into a fierce determination, a willpower to rescue her from Zack’s clutches, the cunning mastermind who sought to manipulate and control her for his own sinister purposes.

Jack let go of me and I felt the loss of his touch immediately. Damn, the man was addictive. He bent over to reach into the nightstand on the far side of the bed and withdrew four long black cords and a pile of condoms. He dumped the condoms on the nightstand then turned and handed me the cords. The smooth cords, each about a yard in length, slid easily along my fingers, soft but strong. "Silk?" "Yep. And they're spelled. Once the command word is triggered, they won't break or come untied until you say the release word."

One of Damon’s favorite theories, Anne recalled, was that the Mourner’s Cradle had been a graveyard. Why had he been so captivated by it? Shouldn’t the Mourner’s Cradle be something more than just a graveyard? Shouldn’t there be something besides this pit of bones and the silence that filled it? She didn’t know. She remembered the camera and reached into her pockets for it, but was stunned to find it in pieces, destroyed by the fall. Anne paced. She studied the walls, the areas where the ceiling dipped lower and where the higher reaches extended up toward the light of the surface. Below, from among the pit’s many, many bones, a vacant skull grinned up at her.