Darkest Whisper Novels & Stories

I needed someone who could slip through the cracks, someone who could become the wind, the invisible thread that stitched together the fabric of their intelligence. And I knew just who to call upon. A young pup, Anya, ostracized for her uncanny ability to move unheard, unseen, a talent once deemed unsettling, now a desperate hope. The meeting with the council might have yielded no answers, but in this quiet corner of my office, a plan, fragile but alive,took shape. I, the alpha, battered but unbowed, was ready to unleash the Whisperer, a weapon honed by shadows and desperation, a gamble against the encroaching darkness. The hunt for answers, for survival, had just begun.

They couldn't have seen them anyway, for darkness unlike any other suddenly settled around them, causing them to shriek to the bites, the rips of flesh, the dread that enveloped them. Every man had his voice and hands raised, groping in the darkness, hoping to escape the pain. But soon, every man's voice was silenced as the darkness lifted, and all that remained was the night. All that was left of the site were lots of scattered bones, five beings gently stirring, and more terrifying whispers, whispering. Then the distinct, cold whisper of Rose Steele came, and it said, "Now, let's find them."

Mist and fog crawled up from the edge of the sea, blurring the twinkle of city lights. He held his breath, and his heart tightened in his chest as the runway came into view, the blinking signal lights whipping by too fast. The fog turned into a dark wind, coiling around the plane like a snake, choking it. Then the crash of metal and flash of fire engulfed everything in a deafening explosion.

No clear instructions were available—just line after line of code confirming the finality of either choice. One line in particular stood out, written in bold caps: // IF THEY COME FOR YOU, GIVE THEM FIRE OR DARKNESS. NOT BOTH. Isabella’s hands shook. She thought of her mother’s voice, fractured but unwavering: “I was here. I am real. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.” The words echoed through her mind as her heart pounded in her chest. She had to make a decision. But how? If she wiped everything, the Society’s victims would vanish—no evidence, no justice. If she leaked it, innocent survivors would be exposed, their trauma turned into spectacle, their privacy violated.

The kind of peace that felt wrong when everything inside me was screaming. The golden ray of sunlight stayed on one side of my face, warm against my skin. I closed my eyes, letting the heat sink in, and pulled air deep into my lungs. The breeze carried the scent of pine and something floral I couldn't quite place. I hadn't let myself think about all kinds of horrible things. Horrible things included how I'd likely get arrested if anyone found out I was having an affair with the leader of the darkest organization the NHPD had been obsessing over and going after for years. The Maestro.

Something in my chest has loosened slightly, feeling lighter than it was an hour ago. So I let myself lie back down and close my eyes, and the sleep takes me faster than I expect. *** I’m in an empty warehouse. I step forward, slightly confused at how I found myself here. The air is still and slick with the smell of danger. The smell of death. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a muffled scream. Blindly, I move towards the sound of the voice. Another scream splits the air, more decipherable this time. ‘Help me!’

“This is yours for the next six months. The east wing belongs to you. The west wing and basement are private. Off-limits unless I invite you.” The word “invite” sent a shiver racing down my spine. I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Understood, Mr. Blackwood.” He pushed off the frame and crossed the room until he stood close enough that I could smell his cologne. His gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, openly tracing the hard points of my nipples pressing against the silk. “You signed the NDA,” he murmured. “You know discretion is required. Complete obedience when I give an order. And absolute honesty about what you want… or what you need.”

The Darkness pushed as I clenched my fist, closed my eyes, and began to hum, using the humming to block out the voice of the Darkness and focus my intention on blocking out the Darkness's ploy. The Darkness's voice, a persistent whisper, echoed in the depths of my mind. It promised it threatened, it persuaded, but I remained steadfast. I knew its true intentions, its insatiable hunger for power and souls. My twins were innocent, mere infants, and I would protect them at all costs.

Darkness. It was all Raven could see, all he could feel, as if the world had collapsed into a void. There was no ground beneath him, no air to breathe, yet he was suffocating. The whispers came first, though faint like it's on the edge of his consciousness and they were in languages he didn’t know, had never heard. They weren’t voices from one direction—they surrounded him, pressed against his ears, whispered right beside him, and roared from some unreachable distance all at once.

I whisper, gripping the edge of the dark mahogany counter. Ria disappears into the sea of tailored suits, leaving me completely exposed at the corner of the bar. I stare down at the polished wood, trying to breathe through the heavy numbness in my chest. Then, the heavy glass front doors of the lounge swing open across the room. A gust of rainy wind sweeps into the room, bringing with it a sound I would recognize in the dark. A laugh. A high-pitched, melodic, familiar laugh. Paula.