Glass Library Series Novels & Stories

Reese pulled a slim glass vial from his pocket and smeared the reader with a clear gel. “Borrowed this from a friend in Munich,” he said. “Tricks the scanner into thinking it’s just been used.” The light turned green. The door slid open with a hiss. --- Inside was a chamber straight out of Mara’s nightmares. Rows of black server towers hummed in dim blue light. Screens suspended from the ceiling streamed lines of shifting code, the characters warping in ways that made her eyes ache if she stared too long. And at the center, on a pedestal of glass, sat another cube.

she asked. “She did,” Geo replied. “With a little persuasion from you, I’m sure,” she added, “You couldn’t control yourself, I see. That’s not going to go over well.” Geo chuckled, but said nothing as he lowered himself into a chair that was strategically placed near a large window that consisted of glass made with the latest technology our hard-working scientists came up with to combat the remnants of pollution left from the great war. It filtered the harmful rays of the sun as the morning light flooded the room. My grandmother’s enormous greenhouse was made of the same glass since certain plants were still not hardy enough to tolerate the sun’s direct rays.

Now I’m learning I was very wrong. “What do you think, trouble?” Sinclair asks as the Alpha’s come to a pause in their conversation. We’re currently speeding over a mirrored bridge which makes it feel as if we’re driving right across the surface of the lake, and the closer we get to the city, I realize why it seemed to glow: It’s a city made entirely of glass. It reminds me of the intricate ice sculptures I’ve seen at winter fairs, when artists create entire worlds out of the beautiful but impractical substance. “It’s incredible.” I breathe. “I’ve never seen anything like it… but how is it possible? I would have thought glass was too fragile for such complex structures.”

He just turned to his guards and said, "Turn on the glass wall blindfold.” A low, ominous hum filled the air as the tall, transparent glass walls surrounding my office began to darken. It was a special kind of electrochromic glass that could go from clear to opaque at the flip of a switch, a feature designed for private meetings, to shield sensitive documents and conversations from prying eyes. But this wasn’t about privacy. This was a message. This was a public display of power. The staff outside, who had been murmuring and watching, were now completely cut off from me. I was alone with a man who had the power to make me disappear with a single word.

It all made sense now. Silas was hit with the ridiculousness of this situation. After tossing the balled-up kitchen towel into the trash can, he turned off the stove. "I met with a supplier at the Meliere Art District today. We were finalizing the material for the glass facade planned for the lobby in The Haven," he answered in a steady voice, not the least bit frantic at "having been caught red-handed". "The woman in the photo is Estelle Lockwood, the creative director of Glimmer Studio. We were checking out glass samples."

ELEANOR POV "Who on earth built this place?" The question escapes my lips as a pure rhetorical sigh. The architecture is staggeringly gorgeous—the exterior is massive and wide, framed by heavily reinforced, specialized ballistic glass that slide open electronically without a sound the moment our proximity registers. I try to glance back through the pane, but the surface is a complete void. "The glass is structurally treated to prevent external monitoring or surveillance of our primary clients as they cross the threshold," Banks explains smoothly.

I got up today with my head held high and my heart filled with gratitude — I finally landed the opportunity I’ve been working my ass off for the past two years. It felt unreal when I saw the email from Vans and Sterling Company confirming that I have been accepted to work as a member of the Computing and Cybersecurity department.

Brielle swallows hard beside me, and I squeeze her hand just as Jack walks back in with a huge smile on his face. “I think we just got lucky,” he tells us. “My buddy just told me that entire wall was constructed using riot glass.” “Riot glass?” Brielle asks. “What does that mean? Like hurricane glass?” “No, riot glass is even better,” I say. “Hurricane glass is only rated for high winds. Riot glass is designed specifically to withstand objects hitting it – even something traveling at a high rate of speed.” “Like bullets?” “Yep. The glass will spiderweb, but not shatter.”

“Move it about two inches to the left. It’s tilting toward the window.” Ronan shifts the frame, tapping a small nail into the wall with total precision. “How’s it looking now?” “Perfect,” I say, nodding in approval. “Get down from there. We need to go over the lighting for the primary treaty glass case. The Southern alphas are going to be standing right in front of it tomorrow night, and I want the gold seals on the letter to catch the light properly.” For the next three hours, Ronan and I work in total, productive harmony.

Hated that it still betrayed her after all these years. Vivian Glass stood just beyond the red tape boundary, immaculate and unhurried. Black trousers tailored to cut like a threat, cream silk blouse tucked with surgical precision, oversized sunglasses still shielding her eyes even in the dim, diffused light of the stage. She held a slim tablet under one arm, fingers resting lightly against its surface as though Serena were already a line item in a ledger waiting to be reconciled—profit or loss, asset or liability, keep or discard.