Gideon The Ninth Ebook Novels & Stories

she said to herself. The fourth book begins at chapter 1 in Paris. The End.

They clung to each other, sobbing—a scene so touching it could move anyone to tears. I stared coldly at the jeweled circlet on his head, flashing arrogantly in the firelight. My own hair, before I died, had been tied back with nothing but a frayed leather cord—some drunken client's careless afterthought. I listened as Matthew, in that clear, sweet voice of his, spun a story so perfect it was seamless. "Father, forgive me—I've been so unfilial. I wasn't lost that night. I was taken—kidnapped by slavers.

Amber reminded her. Ebony tisked and ignored Amber. Ash, the gentleman, escorted the diva across the warehouse to where the king had his broken knee propped up on some pillows. He’d heard many tales about the dark-skinned goddess but had yet to meet her in the flesh. Grayson didn’t look particularly pleased to have their first introduction when he was bruised and laid up. “Hello Ebony. I’ve heard many things about you. I’m Grayson Godwin.” She snorted, “As if I didn’t know that. Your face is always plastered around this city. If you are such a charitable man, you really should release some nudes-"

My heart lifted, their loyalty a shield, but I still felt lost, the third shard a mystery I couldn’t unlock. Gideon’s eyes narrowed, his voice gruff. “No more delays,” he said, pointing at Vera. “Track this down—library, vault, anywhere. We need that third shard found.” His command hung heavy, his distrust of Gabriel fueling his tone, his claws twitching.

And in that quiet hospital room, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and the hum of machines, Amira finally believed in something she hadn’t dared to before. A future. THE END AUTHOR- 📚GENEVA .A. ZWICKER📚

“Queen of the Ashes. Heir of the Forgotten Goddess.” Elara closed her eyes. For the first time, she did not deny. She did not flee. She accepted. The flames wrapped around her, and the ruins trembled with awakening power. ---

He cut off abruptly, staring at something behind me. I turned to see a waifish young woman stumbling towards us, unsteady on bare feet. Her dress was torn and ragged, gaping away from her neck. Her wide eyes were bright and shining as she reached for Gideon. As she fell towards us, Gideon darted forward with a low cry. I flinched at the sound of the emotion in it. “No!” he gasped, catching the woman. He raised his gaze to mine, his expression full of incredulous joy.

Hands still visible. “You could have killed me,” he says. “I still can,” I reply. He nods—once. Walks to the door. Pauses. “Gideon won’t stop,” he says—quiet. “He’s not like the old ones. He doesn’t want power. He wants perfection. And he’ll burn everything to get it.” Then he’s gone—footsteps fading down the stairwell. We don’t chase him. We take the laptop. Wipe the house for prints. Leave through the garden the same way we came.

“How did you survive the early years? When Jordan was just a pup and the pack was still unstable after his parents’ death? You must have been constantly moving.” Gideon smiled faintly, the expression carrying both pride and sorrow. “By becoming part of the background. A traveler. A trader. A lone wolf passing through. I never stayed long enough to become familiar. But I always returned. Jordan’s safety came first. Always. I learned the forest like my own home. Every trail. Every hiding spot. Every way to disappear.” Jordan turned another page in the diary. “You wrote about the night I tried to run away when I was eight. You stopped me before I reached the border. How? I never saw anyone. I t

Beneath the thin fabric, her full breasts rose and fell rapidly, pink nipples stiff from the cold night air and forbidden excitement. She had come here to gain power. Revenge against the family that disowned her. Knowledge that the church had denied her. The ancient grimoire she stole from the restricted archives lay open before her, its pages stained with old blood. With shaking hands, she completed the circle of black candles and crushed bones. Her voice echoed as she recited the forbidden incantation, mixing Latin with words that burned her tongue. “…By the blood of the fallen, by the seed of the abyss, I summon thee, Azrathor, Lord of the Infernal Flame. Come forth and grant me thy power