Emori Novels & Stories

"Mommy! I want my mommy! Please! Please let me see my mommy!" Flashback: Five Years Ago The first time Emory had cried like this, she was three months old. Cassian had been a new father terrified, overwhelmed, still drowning in the grief of losing Clara. Emory had been a fragile baby, born prematurely, her lungs not fully developed, her immune system weak. She had spent her first weeks in an incubator, and when she finally came home, she had cried almost constantly.

First, we needed to get her home and safe. “Since when has that Asshat ever been helpful or given us any information?” I asked exasperated. The Alpha of the Margam territory, Jeremy Lewis was enough of a Bell end that he actually introduced himself the people as Alpha Jezz. Jezz? What the hell kind of grown man wants to be called the nickname he was clearly given by his high school rugby team?

" ~~~~~~~~~~ FLASHBACK MONTAGE — BOOK PAGES TURNING Lorenzo in the rain, bleeding from the ribs, laughing with a broken bottle in hand. Aria at sixteen, eyes like a loaded gun, pressing a knife to her father's throat. Emilio’s first kill. Not for vengeance. For survival. The wedding night at the cursed chapel. The first war map drawn in blood on a napkin. Elias’ final breath. Coded, corrupted, still dangerous. Echo disappearing into the mist. The Circle of Ash, seated together for the first time. Each memory inked like a warning. Each line a scripture of pain and promise. ~~~~~~~~~~ ROME — ESTATE ROOFTOP TOWER // 11:48 P.M. Emilio climbed alone. The stairwell was cracked. Old stone. No surve

“That’s not a war council. That’s a death wish.” Emilia smiled faintly. “Then we’re all already dead.” One of the bone wolves stepped closer. It paused inches from her, its joints crackling like old timber, and lowered its massive skull. She reached out, slow, reverent, and touched its brow. A whisper surged through her. Not a voice. A memory. “Blood remembers.” Her breath caught. Behind her, the rogue wolves bowed their heads. Even Julian lowered his eyes. And when she finally turned, her voice rang like iron striking the edge of something holy.

MEMORY SEALS FAILING. Emma gasped. Something was opening. Something vast. Something buried. The first memory broke through. A voice. Ancient. Warm. Loving. Calling her name. Not Emma. Something else. A different name. A forgotten name. A true name. Emma's eyes widened. Because she almost heard it. Almost. The Custodian immediately reacted. "Identity recovery detected." The being stepped forward. "Stop." The Custodian ignored it. The symbols accelerated again. Emma's entire body shook.

' This could only mean one thing, Sia has regained her memories and lost her soul in the process' ################

On me. ​To the rest of the room, it looked like a CEO commanding the space. To me, it felt like being held at gunpoint. Now that I knew the truth—that he had his memory back long before I arrived in Manila—every "adequate" he’d thrown at me felt like a slap. He wasn't a man who had forgotten; he was a man who was erasing me in real-time. ​"He's staring again," Sarah whispered, nudging me. "Hannah, I’m telling you, you must have a smudge on your face or something. The CEO looks like he’s trying to solve a very annoying math problem, and you’re the X."

she said while she continued cleaning up her shirt with it. "My apology again, by the way, I am Echo. Jericho del Fuego," he offered his hand for a handshake, but Maria refused to accept it since her hand was so dirty. "I... I can't just accept your handshake, my hand was so dirty," she said while keeping her hands on her back. She knew that the guy in front of her is not an ordinary one, and she doesn't want to offend him again. It's quite so hard to offend someone with a rich and famous aura like him.

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“I’ve already been broken. What’s left now is the part that learned how to survive the fire.” Vera said nothing at first. She only watched Emereah’s fingers as the ember flickered and pulsed, alive with something ancient. The fire didn’t consume her. It clung to her like breath. “You speak like the flame is your ally,” Vera said softly, stepping forward. “But even fire leaves scars.” Emereah’s eyes didn’t move from the horizon. “I’ve bled for every scar. And I’ve named them.” “Named them?” Emereah nodded once. “My father. My mother. The warriors of Crescent Silver Moon Fang. The girls they slaughtered. The mates they silenced. I carry them all.”