Crimson Mask Novels & Stories

He wickedly smiles while saying, “You to Suffer!” Rather than reacting to what he had said, Zitrey was more surprised on the mask he’s wearing, it was like the same mask she’s using as Crimson Blade. ‘Where did he get that thing?’ But her attention was taken by her friend's complexion that slowly turning to pale and lips in purple. Was the water cold? They start to shake and water almost reached their mouth. She slammed the glass once again. The mind was swirling with curses, seeing them suffer. “Stop it stop! Stop the water now!”

Demyan’s POV The fabric of my cloak brushed against the polished stone floor like the whisper of a storm. Deep crimson, it fell behind me in regal waves, the color of blood and fire, and today, of defiance. I pulled the hood up over my head, letting the shadow fall over my face, then fastened the black mask. It covered my expression but not the heat that simmered beneath my skin. I was not here as a son today, I was here as the Alpha-to-be, and I wanted answers.

Unforgiving. And then we saw them, shadows against shadows, six masked men, dressed in black tactical gear, dragging a limp body between them. Luca. That was all I saw before my rage blacked out the world. “Take the flank,” I growled, and before either of them could answer, I was already moving, already fucking charging. The first man didn’t even earn the mercy of recognition—just the thunderclap of gunfire as I pulled the trigger point-blank. His skull cracked open like overripe fruit, fragments of bone slicing through the air as brain matter and blood splattered across the pristine marble wall behind him.

He answers quietly the question I can’t ask out loud. “I need you to talk to me as your reaction to being here isn’t normal and I believe something big is going on with you.” I shake my head vigorously as he takes the mask from my hand. My fight renews even more now that he wants to talk. Talking doesn’t help me. Oddly, all I can think about is the offer of sanctuary back at Crimson Dawn. I don’t fight for long before Jamie jumps in to help. I freeze completely as his hand snakes its way onto the back of my neck.

“Then it’s not just showing me what’s happened. It’s showing me what will.” Theo reached beside the table again and pulled out a second item from the leather folder. It was slim, bound in deep red linen, the corners worn with time. He hesitated before handing it to her. Her breath caught the moment she saw the title: The Crimson Letter By Isla Ward She stared at it, her hand hovering. “Where did you get this?” “I found it last year,” Theo said quietly. “Tucked behind the books in the library’s upper shelf. I didn’t know what it was at first. Just that it felt… wrong.”

Nagtaas-baba pa ang kilay nito. Sumunod ang tingin ko sa tinutukoy ni Athelia. Naroon si Adamson. He was wearing a black button down shirt. Nakabukas pa ang tatlong butones. He was a bit sweaty and under the lights, his sweat shimmers like they were diamonds. May suot din itong kwintas na may dog tag na pendant. Mukhang may magpipigil ng ngiti ngayong gabi ah. Natawa ako nang umirap si Ena at sumiksik sa akin.

He calmly rises from the floor and lets his form take over him fully before looking straight at the woman and speaks, “Thank you for telling me the answer yourself.” Ophelia stares in horror at the face of the human, stumbling back in shock. She looks into the red eyes, staring at her with murderous intention. She is even more horrified when she sees his whole face. Black cracks are spread all over his face, much like the face of a cracked China doll, his hair no longer blonde but black.

My grip tightens on the phone. No. No, no, no. My heart slams against my ribs, my pulse roaring in my ears. I watch him—Ghost—standing in that fucking room, his hands shaking, desperation clear in his eyes. He wasn’t pleading for our lives. He was trying to undo what he did. “Why should we believe you?” the masked man asks. Ghost lets out a bitter, humorless laugh. “How else would I know the name? Come on, why do you think I told that idiot to stop?” His hands clench at his sides, his whole body tense. “Just take the three million and let us go.”

I muttered, leaning closer so he could hear me over the buzz of the crowd, “Reagan doesn’t even know the names of half these people.” He smirked, his gaze sweeping the room. “Everyone’s wearing a mask.” “It’s a masquerade party, I think.” I spotted a nearby table stacked with ornate masks, clearly intended for anyone who needed one. I grabbed two and turned to Blaze, holding one out to him. “Here. Let’s blend in.” I slipped my mask on—a delicate, silver piece adorned with tiny crystals—and gestured for Blaze to do the same. He took his time, studying his black and gold mask like it was some kind of alien artifact before finally putting it on.

However, my breath caught when I opened the thick paper and broke the seal. “You have been invited to a private masquerade party. At 9 p.m. on Saturday night. The Manor of Crimson. Put on black. Put on your mask. Get rid of your limitations.” That was all. No signature, no specifics. That enticing promise alone. I was unable to stop thinking about it for three nights. Masquerade. There was a sense of mystery and eroticism in the term itself. I imagined sparkling chandeliers, Venetian masks, and strangers touching without really knowing who they were touching.