From Cradle To Grave Book Novels & Stories

Kraven’s POV Granny laid the leather-bound book on the dining table with both hands, like it weighed more than just paper and ink. The spine was cracked, the cover faded, but I knew—by the look in her eyes—that this wasn’t just some relic. This was a weapon. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, her voice low, heavy with the kind of gravity that silences even a room full of armed men.

“Anyone would have missed that because it is insignificant, but not you, Haylee.” Liya was right. The book was shoved behind two giant books, and its front cover had been ripped off. I held Jodie with one arm, stretching the other to get the book off the shelf. My eyes squinted as I tried to read the words on the first page. “Cursed in Crimson: The Tale of Ancient Red Wolves,” I read under my breath. Flavia heard me and stepped towards me with about five books in her hands. She etched, “Interesting. That might help us with solving the mystery around Elder Calvin’s death.”

Books were cascading from the shelves now, all opening and spilling their contents in blood ink. The air grew heavy with the metallic stench of iron. A large, heavy book landed between them, larger than the others, its spine wrapped in black silk adorned with crown symbols stitched into the cover. It burst open, and Camela’s entire life poured out onto the floor in blood hues—her childhood memories, laughter shared with her mother, her father’s cruel grip on her wrist, and the way she ran through the woods tearing her wedding dress. And Vincent—always Vincent. Watching over her and pulling her close. Binding her in threads.

"The world will still be broken in the morning. He helped me as I lay back slowly and closed my eyes, the oxygen hissing in my nose. As I drifted off, I dreamt of a bridge. It stretched over a void. I was standing in the middle of it, watching the pieces behind fall away into the dark. Five hundred miles away, Roman Crescent suddenly buckled. He fell to the concrete floor, clutching his chest. The psychic link to his pack’s wealth had just vanished. the fortune that had sustained their legacy for centuries. It felt like a cold blade being pulled through his heart. He knew that, without a phone or a lawyer, Elara had pulled the final trigger.

For the first time, she experienced how wonderful it feels to have someone called the apple of the eye. She was in the library then, researching for her report. Coincidentally, the book she needed was on the higher part of the shelf and she could not reach it. But because of her shy nature, she still tried to reach the book by squatting. She was surprised when suddenly a tall, dark-skinned man approached her and handed her the book.

I can't stop thinking about everything, from the cave to Gabriel being my mate and then to saving the people. It is starting to become so depressing especially since I don't even have a clue where to find the moonstone. I have finished my mom's book and I haven't found anything useful again apart from the handwritten poem at the back. With everything worth sacrificing, I chose my own flesh. Out of the weak comes the strong And out of the strong comes the mighty. The purest of all. White as snow, pure as the blood in her veins. The war is coming. At the strike of the snow on the ground.

, she said. "It's okay", I replied. She left leaving us in her living room. All the selves filled with books and glass bottles. It's the heritage of her ancestors. One book from self in blue hard cover caught my eye. I grabbed the book. The cover of the book fascinated me. 'The Cursed King' was written in golden cursive letters. Beautiful and ancient. I tossed the pages and started reading. 'Blood spilled all over the ground. Bodies lay lifeless. Houses burnt. Children crying.