Elena Coats Novels & Stories

"Step a‌way from t⁠he console." The figur‌e froze. They d​idn't panic. They simp⁠ly stopped​ typing. As‌ they s⁠tood up and turned⁠ arou​nd, the hood‍ fell⁠ back, revealing a face Celeste hadn't seen in yea​rs. It was Howard Harr⁠ington’s for⁠mer secret‍ary, a wom‍an named E​lena who had disappeared the day the New York do‌cks w‍e‌re taken over.⁠ She looked tired, he‍r eyes sun⁠ken,‍ her skin the col‍or of​ old parchment.

“Take this cock, Elena. Take every fucking inch like the greedy little slut you are.” Elena’s back pressed hard against the cool glass, skirt bunched around her waist. All she could focus on was his huge cock stretching her wide open. “Oh fuuuck… it’s so deep!” she moaned, her voice breaking. “You’re splitting me open—arghh!”

a piece of deleted code walking through a physical space that had been scrubbed of her history. ​Beside her, Elena leaned against a decorative obsidian pillar, a scorched red trench coat draped over her shoulders like a wounded wing. She struck a match against the expensive stone, the flame flickering in the sterile air. A security drone hovered inches from her face, its red optic sensor pulsing as it searched for a recognizable ID-chip. Finding none, it simply drifted away, treating her like a pillar of smoke.

Behind Elena, out on the corridor, footsteps came closer. “Elena? What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” “I’m already ready, Coach,” Elena said, stepping outside. I quickly followed, squishing myself between the doorframe and the door, to hide the inside of my room – and the evidence of last night’s party – from Coach’s view. “I just had something to talk to Cynthia about,” Elena said, glancing at me. I nodded. “I’ll be ready soon, Coach.” Coach looked between us. He wasn’t as put together as usual. He had dark bags under his eyes and his hair was rumpled like he had only dragged himself out of bed.

"All that paint under the fingernails. It’s a bit much, don't you think? A bit too... curated?" Elena’s face changed. The panic didn't vanish, but it hardened. The trembling in her lower lip stopped. She didn't look like a terrified artist anymore. She looked like a predator. "Drop the tablet, Ignatius," Elena said. Her voice had dropped an octave, losing its melodic lilt. It was cold. Professional. In one fluid motion, she reached into the thigh-high slit of her gallery dress. She didn't pull out a paintbrush. She pulled out a subcompact Glock 43. She leveled it at Ignatius’s forehead, her stance wide and perfectly balanced.

The dawn over the Thames was a bruised purple, illuminating the wreckage of Leo’s former life. Standing in the mud and the rusted shadows of the vault, Leo watched as the woman he knew only from Meilin’s tear-stained childhood stories—Elena Vance—approached them. Elena didn't walk; she commanded the space around her. She was the CEO of Vance Global, the silent titan that made the Thorne Foundation look like a neighborhood start-up.

Chapter 27: The Bait in Red The car door clicked open, and the night air swallowed her whole. Elena stepped out slowly, her legs unsteady in the towering stilettos. The red trench coat wrapped tight around her body barely concealed the lingerie underneath. Her hair was curled, teased into wild, sultry waves that brushed her shoulders. Her lips were a deep scarlet, matching the lace barely clinging to her skin beneath the coat. The club in front of her pulsed with danger.

I look at the man I helped and it occurred to me apart from being my mate, I know nothing about him. Just like Kyle predicted we met standing out of the secret room but this time Eleanor was glowing out of ordinary. I was scared because I have never seen her being scared of her own self especially when she touched each and every guard and they all became whole again. "She has a taste to undergo inorder to save her mate." Kyle whispered to me. The next was seeing Eleanor collapsing before us and she was caught by Max who carried her in a bridal style. If not for Luna 's mate, everyone would have thought they were an item.

She continued, her tone soft and low. Leo didn't say anything further, he simply tried to calm his nerves, the events of that night constantly playing in his head. How on earth is going to kill Martinez if he can't even hold a gun to him? *** Eleonora was returning from Pablo's room after giving him his midnight dosage when she saw Sly walking in with Frederico. They didn't notice her as they had stopped to talk in the corridor. She didn't have any plans to eavesdrop on their conversation, not until she heard who the discussion was about.