Folding Warhammer Table Novels & Stories

Life comes hard and fast for Kendra and her family in a dystopian world that is struggling to recover from a nuclear war and is now under the rule of an alien government. Unaware of the impending alien invasion, a group of scientists -which included Kendra's parents- were ordered to create a zombie virus and set it loose on Russia. The intention was to subdue Russia and then release the cure, but the alien attack took them unawares and the scientists and their cure disappeared, leaving the virus to run rampant. Having been inoculated against the virus, Kendra's aunt is one of these scientists who has kept her identity a secret for fear of being made a slave to the alien government. When a village that is connected to the people who moved underground for survival kidnaps Kendra in hopes that they can harvest any memories of her parents discussing the cure while she was a mere infant with the use of an experimental machine, her aunt must decide about coming forth with her identity. In the meantime, along with dealing with the ever-rising population of zombies, the alien regime -which considers humans a delicacy for their dinner table – sets out to correct and purify the human race from those who were mutated in some way by the nuclear explosions. Rex is one of those humans. He is also Kendra’s lover. “Where Zombies Walk” is Book One of Kendra’s Journey in a world that offers steamy romance, nail biting peril, and thrills, and a paradise-like sanctuary within its core. All she has to do is make her way there.

As the only expert in the world capable of rescue dives below 3,000 feet, I received a once-in-a-lifetime salvage contract worth tens of millions of dollars. I had dived in those same waters over a decade ago. My son's research submersible had been damaged on the ocean floor. After his oxygen ran out, he suffocated in the dark. The grief nearly destroyed me. My husband, Griffin Lattimer, held me through it, staying by my side through countless miserable nights. I found out later that he had personally redirected the only rescue vessel capable of reaching the depths our son was at to save his childhood friend's daughter. That girl had merely choked on a mouthful of water in the shallows. I divorced Griffin and threw myself into deep-sea salvage like a woman possessed, diving over and over until I knew the undercurrents of those waters better than I knew my own home. I never wanted another child to die the way mine did. Today brought the same stretch of ocean, the same crushed hull, the same depleted oxygen, and the same impossible odds. When I opened the client's file, I went completely still. I recognized the name and face inside instantly. I would never forget either of them for as long as I lived. I smiled and slid the folder back across the table to my partner. "I can't take this one."

"This is a notice regarding proper use of the air conditioning. Please sign to acknowledge receipt." My six-year-old son stood there with a stern little frown, slapping a sheet of paper down in front of me. I glanced at the page. Written in colorful marker were several neatly listed "charges." The whole thing felt absurd. When I did not respond, he pointed at the paper like a tiny adult. "Mom, you didn't turn the air down in time yesterday. That could've affected my health. It was very irresponsible." I looked toward my husband, who had just gotten home from work, hoping he would say something, anything, in my defense. Instead, he snatched up the paper and slapped it down on the table, his voice sharp. "Can't you be more attentive? Our son's health comes first. If you can't even handle something this simple, what kind of mother are you?" With someone backing him up, our son's eyes immediately reddened. He burst into tears. "Mom doesn't love me!" The two of them, playing judge and jury, left me suddenly breathless. "Fine," I said at last. "If I'm such an unfit mother, I'll leave. Let your father find you a new one, someone who knows how to set the air conditioning properly."

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message. [Let's break up.] A second later, he replied, [OK.] Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth. "You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?" "Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him." I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. "Because he never listens to my voice messages." I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages. For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for. I had grown used to his cold nature long ago. Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa. In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years. And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

It was not an ordinary day for Tara Davis. It was her first time to go to the heart of the city alone after being asked by her cousin to do the interview for her, a favor she could not say no. She did the interview without knowing the questions inside the brown envelope. When she reached the top floor of the Williamson Hotel, she found him busy looking for some files on his table and asked if it was okay to conduct the interview with him. Blake Williamson, amused that there was one person, who did not recognize him, decided to accept the interview and pretended to be Sam, his personal secretary. The interview became more interesting for him when they found out that it contained dirty questions related to . He became more interested in her because, despite the questions, she did the interview professionally. She was the first woman he met who seemed not interested in him, unlike other women who were always ready to undress in front of him. For him, Tara is an extraordinary woman who enchanted him. She was like a transformed live-action character from fairy tale stories who still believes in true love and simple life can still make you happy. Blake believed he was the perfect man for her until he found out that she was looking for an honest man with great conviction in life, and definitely not a millionaire, the exact opposite of him. He lied the first time they met, and the truth was that he was not just rich, but a renowned youngest billionaire in the country.

"Sign the papers, Estella." Marco slid the divorce papers across the mahogany table, his eyes fixed on Claudia, who hovered by his side with a victorious smile. "Did you really think a nobody like you could keep me?" Estella's throat tightened as she forced herself to meet his gaze. The diamond on Claudia's finger caught the light—his best friend now wearing what should have been hers forever. "You should be grateful," Claudia murmured, resting a hand on her belly. "Letting you go is the kindest thing we've done for you." When Estella married into the powerful Valdez family, she believed in love conquering all. Instead, she found herself cast out, Helena Valdez herself showing her the door when Claudia announced her pregnancy. Then Alejandro De Luca appeared—Marco's sworn enemy offering an unexpected proposition. "A contract marriage," he said simply. "You get protection. I get revenge." Together, they plotted to dismantle the very family that had humiliated her. With each calculated move, Estella reclaimed pieces of herself she thought lost forever. But revenge is a dangerous game. As their plan unfolded and tragedy struck, Estella discovered that survival meant more than settling scores—it meant learning to wield her pain as power. The quietest heart, after all, often hides the most dangerous storm.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

From as far back as I can remember, I knew my mom hated me. She gives me sleeping pills when I'm three. When I'm five, she tries pesticide instead. But I'm hard to get rid of. By the time I'm seven, I've already learned how to fight back. If she refuses to give me food, I flip the table so no one can eat either. If she beats me up until I'm on the ground, writhing in pain, I go after her beloved son the same way, leaving him bruised and bawling. That's how we stay locked in battle until I turn 12. Everything changes when my youngest sister is born. I'm clumsily trying to help with her wet diaper when Mom suddenly shoves me against the wall. The look in her eyes holds both disgust and fear. "What were you trying to do to my daughter? I knew it. You take after that monster of a father. Why didn't you just die with him?" I hold my aching head. For the first time, I don't fight back. I believe she's right. My existence is a mistake. I should never have been alive.

At the ceremony where my father, Robert Clarke, is promoted to the position as the pack elder, my mate, Alpha Ethan Thornfield, raises the wine glass in his hand while smiling at him. "Elder Robert, there's this question which has been bothering me for the longest time. Does shamelessness run in the Clarke family's genetics? Otherwise, how are you able to raise a she-wolf as stubborn and defiant as Isabella who keeps pestering me the whole time?" Dad's wine glass is suspended in mid-air. All the wolves turn to look at us. I place the napkin on the table before meeting Ethan's gaze calmly. "Stop barking like a mad dog, Ethan. I agree to sever our mate bond. That way, you and that mistress of yours can finally get together." Ethan replies softly, "It's wonderful to see you making that decision with a sound mind." On the night the ceremony ends, a mate bond severance agreement, which is prepared in advance, is passed to me. Silently, I drop my signature on the last page of the document. Ethan and that Omega, Chloe Stonehart, have started their affair a year ago. He started forcing me to sever our mate bond six months ago. Since he craves freedom that much, I shall grant it to him. I just hope that he won't regret his decision at all when he loses everything he treasures.

“I don’t want you. I hate you.” Those words from her only son slice deeper than any blade. Sarah returns from the hospital expecting love, only to find her place at the family table stolen. Her husband, James, stands arm in arm with Tiana — his late brother’s widow, while her son clings to the other woman’s waist, rejecting his own mother. The betrayal does not end there. After a confrontation with Tiana, she woke up in an abandoned building, her hands tied, and mouth taped. Beside her was Tiana too. Tied. James stood, his confused gaze darting from Tiana to Sarah. And then came the baritone voice from one of the kidnappers: “One life. One choice. You can only save one. Choose!” Sarah turned, seeing how Tiana was communicating with the kidnappers with her eyes. She struggled to let James see the truth; that this was all a setup. But she couldn’t. Her mouth was tapped. But then, like a match striking steel, James’ voice came brittle and final. “Tiana.” He chose his ex over his own wife. Over the mother of his child. Sarah was abandoned in the warehouse. Immediately they left, the warehouse exploded, covered in flames. And Sarah’s screams and cries inside, filled the night. Did Sarah survive the fire outbreak? If she did, can they stand her revenge when she finally returns?

At another Sunday dinner at the Bellandi estate, Luca Bellandi's assistant, Ava Marino, was sitting in my seat. It was the first chair to Luca's right at the long walnut table, the seat everyone in Chicago's underworld knew belonged to Mrs. Bellandi. Ava sat there as if she had been born into it, her pale wrist brushing Luca's sleeve while she poured his wine. I stood in the doorway and looked at him. "She's in my seat. You don't have anything to say?" Luca raised his eyes. "You were late. Don't blame someone else for sitting down first. There are empty chairs over there. Sit if you want. If not, get out." The dining room went dead quiet, and before I could answer, his thoughts slipped into my ears. [Vivi, don't go. Come sit beside me. Tell them it's your seat. Tell me you still want to be my wife.] [Please get mad. Please care. Say you need me, and I'll give you the whole world.] In the past, those soft, trembling thoughts would have been enough. I would've swallowed the insult and stayed beside him like a loyal dog that didn't know when to leave. This time, I didn't. I slipped the wedding ring off my finger and laid it on the table. "If the Bellandi family can't even keep a wife's seat for me, then I guess this family doesn't need a wife anymore. Luca, let's get divorced."