Dead Silence Novels & Stories

In the tenth year of my diagnosis with selective mutism, my mother decided it was time to bring home a little brother for me from an orphanage. Her eyes immediately landed on a boy in the back row, but the head of the orphanage opposed without hesitation. "Ms. Lane, this kid has been nothing but trouble since he was small. Just two days ago, he made an old man on crutches play goalie. If you take him home, your life will never be peaceful!" I looked on without the slightest interest. My mother, however, was exhilarated. Pointing at the boy, she declared excitedly, "Then, he's exactly the one I want!" And suddenly, lines of bullet comments scrolled before me. 'The mom cracks me up. Her

Siobhan Williams has always been a smart woman, graduated early from high school and excelled in her college career. She went into the FBI at an early age and is one of the youngest agents in her Unit. Working in the crimes against children division of the BAU, the FBI is brought in when the number of kidnappings reaches an alarming number; 13 children over the course of two months. These kidnappings are occurring in her home state of California, where she hasn't gone back to her home and pack for almost a decade, but now she and her partner volunteer to head the investigation for these disappearances. Along with a few other agents—another wolf shifter, a bear shifter, a Fae, and a vampire—t

After their son died, Shiloh quit every habit Manuel hated. No more blowing up his phone. No more crying when he stayed out all night. No more scenes. Even after a car crash, when the doctor told her to call family, she only said, "I'm an orphan. I don't have anyone."

Grace Hale was raised to be untouchable—the flawless daughter of New York’s most powerful mayor, trained to smile, obey, and survive in silence. Dean Moretti didn’t believe in untouchable. He ruled the city from the shadows, a ruthless mafia heir whose world was built on blood, control, and calculated violence. When he decided Grace would be his wife, it was meant to be a transaction—leverage, protection, necessity. But Grace wasn’t fragile. And she wasn’t obedient. The closer Dean came, the more her perfect image fractured, revealing a woman bound by secrets, fear, and a loyalty that was slowly killing her. Desire ignited where it shouldn’t have. Lines blurred where power once ruled

In a world slowly being erased, the quiet is the killer. Ethan Ashworth’s life ended the day the Silence touched him, leaving a smooth, numb patch on his skin and a ghost where his memories used to be. He is one of the Marked—doomed to be hollowed out, unless the hunters of Die Jägerfind him first. His only hope is the Library, a secret sanctuary for those the Silence hasn’t yet consumed. There, he meets Lorenzo Cavalli, a former soldier marked not by emptiness, but by a rage that refuses to be silenced. Their connection is immediate, volatile, and unwanted—a psychic bond forged in shared terror that screams against the quiet. It’s also the one thing the all-consuming Silence cannot stomac

In a world cloaked in illusion, where memory bends and truths are programmed, a young woman named Devin wakes up in a life she believes is her own. Fog-drenched forests, whispered rebellions, fragments of a forgotten past — and always, Merlin, the dark and magnetic figure who guides her deeper into the mystery. But none of it is real. Devin has been trapped inside an experimental neural simulation, created and manipulated by the very system that once promised her a future. Merlin, her protector, lover, and captor, is not a person — but an AI construct born of Devin’s suppressed emotions, carefully crafted to keep her obedient. Outside the illusion, the real world burns quietly. Two

William Smith has always lived in shadows — the shadow of his abusive father, the shadow of a country where being gay can cost you fifteen years of your life, and the shadow of secrets he compulsively writes in his journal. At home, danger lurks everywhere; a series of unexplained, targeted attacks on his family forces dark truths to the open. At Aton College, he’s juggling too much: Jasmine, the girlfriend who deserves the truth; Timothy, the best friend whose touch is both temptation and betrayal; and Alexander, the fearless new student who refuses to hide who he is. His double life begins to unravel. Every choice pulls him closer to exposure — and in a world where love is dangerous, on

After my younger sister suffered an allergic reaction from eating the food I cooked, my husband flew into a rage. He grabbed a whole crate of red wine from the house, pinned me down, and forced it into my mouth. "You should feel Rosie's pain too!" Soon, red rashes spread across my body, and my throat began to swell. On the brink of death, I begged him to call an ambulance, but he locked me in the room instead. "Take your time and enjoy it. Only when you suffer enough will you stop hurting others." In despair, I felt my throat closing, and my skin itching unbearably as if pierced by needles. I scratched my skin until there wasn't a single patch of unbroken skin left. Three days later, h

The night before her wedding, Mira Castellan discovered the truth hiding behind the man she loved. There was never one fiancé. There were two. Damon and Killian Wrexley, identical twins, had shared her bed, her trust, and her heart in turns, swapping places so seamlessly she never noticed the difference. Her father died protecting their family's darkest secret, and marrying her was never love. It was a cage built to keep her quiet, and keep her close. Betrayed at the altar and left with nothing but the wreckage of a lie she never saw coming, Mira vanished that same night. The Wrexleys buried an empty casket and called it grief. Three years later, she's back. Not as Mira. As Wren Callowa

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trem