Download Manacled Novels & Stories

That more than anything stayed with me always, that hope he'd had as he'd swung me around spinning dreams of ponies and dollhouses. I put it away after hours of collecting notes for my already overflowing pile collected from years of doing this, the case might be catching dust on a shelf in a police evidence room in Baltimore but for me it was always in the forefront of my mind and always will be until I could put it to rest. A call came in hours before our meet and two of the men on him dropped in on me, apparently there were quite a few unaccounted for hours in Mr. Mancini's night.

So he didn’t refute. Even with her assurance, Mane still didn’t grab the orb. It was calling to him, but he remained steadfast. He needed an answer first. Ananse sighed upon seeing the still hesitant Mane. “*Sigh* It is a wielding manual for scholars. It is the manual I use. I have included notes from my own experiences as well. Take it. It would serve you well.”

“We can follow it back.” A knock feathered the door. Andre slipped in with that uncanny quiet he wears like a jacket. He had a paper cup in one hand, the lid pressed down like a seal. “For her,” he said. He didn’t ask what. He simply offered. Lena wrapped both hands around it like heat could become backbone. Marco turned to him. “Clear the staff corridor and lock the mezzanine stair for fifteen minutes. Tell Nadia to hold the rope at the west balcony. No entrances, no exits.”

“Got somethin’ to show you.” We went down, deeper into the house. Stone, steel, the stink of sweat and smoke. The sound of chains clinking. The room opened wide, lit by swinging bulbs. A man dangled upside down from a beam, wrists bound, blood streaking down his face. Men circled below, their boots heavy against the floor. Dino stepped forward, voice booming. “Marco. Marco. Marco. Marco my boy.” The man whimpered, twisting weakly.

I felt like I was floating on a cloud of gold and magic. The introduction with the Businessmen in the room went smoothly. I got lots of deals from a few people. This stirred more happiness in me. It turned out that the masquerade ball was not a bad idea after all. We just finished speaking to Rowan, the richest man who deals with online businesses, when another man approached us, and Alexander's face immediately darkened as his grip on my waist tightened. “Long time no see Alexander. I see you got yourself yet another toy to play with. You never seem to change”, the man said with a chuckle.

His hands started to unbuckle his belt that had a diamond encrusted pair of dice displayed on the buckle. That was when I screamed.

he said. The man hesitated before stepping back. Don Ricardo's man did the same. The air between the two Dons was quiet but dense. Don Ricardo spoke first. "Meraz was a better man than he ever got credit for." "He kept the peace while we all found our footing. That sort of man never gets a statue," Don Alessandro replied. They walked slowly out of the chapel together, not speaking again until they stood by the edge of the graveyard. A soothing breeze passed, making the long coats of both men flutter just slightly.

The leader of the women adamantly insisted it was a trick and cautioned them to hold tight at all times. Manley stood at the doorway of the hut and watched them drag Paulette away. He was unable to go further as a result of being bound to the wall with one of the thickest hemp ropes he had ever encountered. The rope was sealed in a permanent knot around his ankle and then coated with melted bees wax. He would need a sharp tool, plenty of time, and sufficient energy if he were to free himself from such bindings. The rough hemp rubbed the top layer of skin off his ankle, making it painful to move around more than necessary.

A sanctum dressed in silence thick enough to drown in. And Caelum—was still naked. But now bound. Oh, so exquisitely bound. His wrists were locked above his head in steel manacles affixed to a single obsidian column rising like a monolith behind a velvet-draped altar—because this was no bed. No sanctuary. It was a stage. His ankles had been tethered apart, the chain slack enough to tease, tight enough to deny. The links hummed when he breathed too hard, a cruel lullaby of his own helplessness.

"The auxiliary nodes are locked, and Elena has already initialized the honeypot on Node Nine. I need to go back to my subterranean control console before the general assembly initializes the bidding ledger. Let me pass." Marcus didn't take a single step back. Instead, his towering six-foot frame shifted with a sudden, predatory momentum, his long pinstriped jacket discarded on the velvet sofa, leaving him in nothing but his custom charcoal vest and open white linen dress shirt. He closed the remaining inches between them, his broad shoulders completely blocking out the exit drapes, his massive shadow enveloping her entire perimeter. The sharp, elite scent of his sandalwood cologne and raw ma