Graham Greene Novels & Stories

Elise suggested. “I—Um—what are you talking about?” Graham reacted. “Me, rich? I’m not rich, I just… do well for myself!” ‘I—um.” He frowned, thinking. “I work for—um—the military. Yeah, that’s it. That’s why I was sent here.” He gulped and added, “But not rich. Just okay.” Elise did not yet know his last name, but even then, Graham was hoping that, since Flareholm was remote, she would not necessarily know about the Wrights.

Music played in the background, adding to the celebratory ambiance of the evening. Donovan stood before the gathered crowd, a smile playing on his lips as he raised his glass in a toast. "First and foremost, I give God thanks and secondly, I must thank my dear wife, Mrs Braide Donovan Garrett," he stated proudly, his voice warm with affection. "Your unwavering support, love, and belief in me have been my greatest source of strength. I am endlessly grateful for finding you." Boma's cheeks flushed with pride as Donovan's words washed over her, and she met his gaze with affectionate admiration. The crowd erupted into cheers, echoing Donovan's sentiments and celebrating the newfound victory.

He chuckled while spilling my secrets. “Are you happy?” Graham turned to me. “Now she knows about your on unhealthy obsession with her, now she hats to know how you feel. Thank me for helping you for a job well-“ I didn’t let him finish and smacked his face with the satchel, he cursed and tumbled to the ground. “F***ng hell, you hit like a baby.” He chuckled and rose to his feet. “What is all that muscle for? Show?” He spat blood to the ground and turned to me with his muderous eyes.

She blinked against the brightness, her eyes struggling after days in the dark. A group of men stood in a semi-circle. At the center was a tall, broad-shouldered man with weathered skin, gray-flecked hair tied back, and a wide grin that didn’t reach his sharp, calculating eyes. His coat was leather, his boots polished, and his presence commanded the attention of everyone around him. “So you’re the one everyone’s been whispering about,” he said, voice gravelly with a hint of amusement. Serena glared at him, straightening as much as her weakened body allowed.

Jonathan shot back. “Alpha Jonathan?” Said a familiar male voice coming from the shadow regions behind the gate. Graham’s dark exterior came into view. He wore a dark suit with the same fire symbol stitched into the fabrics of the right side of his chest. His dark eyes had splashes of gold that practically glowed in the moonlight. “What do we have the honor of this visit?” He asked as he walked towards them. “I tried to tell him to leave but…” the guard tried to say but Graham threw his hand up to silence him.

“Wait, Graham’s a wolf? Then why is he here?” “Sure bet he is. He was one of the finest scouts we ever had. Could sniff someone out even if they were miles away. The man was a walking legend. That was, until he got into a pretty nasty brawl and had his nose torn up, at least. After that, he wanted a quieter life. So, here he is. And the irony is, he’s never been happier. Right,” she tugs my arm, “-you heard Graham. We’ve only got the place to ourselves for a few hours so, let’s shop.”

Silas said. "And when he does," I countered, coughing into a handkerchief and watching the fresh bloom of red soak into the fabric, "the human authorities will have high-definition footage of a 'domestic terrorist' massacre. I’ve already leaked the GPS coordinates to the federal environmental agencies. If Roman fights, he becomes a criminal in the human world. If he doesn't, he loses the Grove. Either way, the Crescent Pack is broken." While Elara sat in her sterile, glass cage, battling for her life, Roman was a storm of a different kind.

Why don’t you try stamping on his fine leather shoes next or snatching the Rolex off his wrist and smashing it off the ground? His lips pursed, he fixed me with a cold, hard glare. “Yes, that’s me, grotty Greyson, also known as grimy Greyson, Greyson Smelliot and Smelly Elliot. I tend to go by Greyson or Mr Elliot these days. You can call me Mr Elliot. I assume we went to school together?” “Zoe, Zoe Smithson.”

The man was ten times stronger than we were, and being a Lycan, he had the advantage of shifting as he pleased and when he pleased; however, we were not going to sit back and allow him to do that because we believed that we couldn’t take him. “Caterina?” I heard a man say from behind me, grabbing my arm, stopping me. Both Nathan and I stopped, frowning at his sight. His eyes studied my expression carefully for a second before letting my hand go “my apologies, I thought that you were someone else” “I noticed” I said, glaring at the man. He looked at Nathan before extending his hand for him to shake “my apologies, I haven’t introduced myself, Alexander Grimaldi, son of Elijah and Sofia Grimald

But before she could breathe, a familiar voice came behind them. “Mr. Graham. Lucia.” Lucia turned. Grandfather Graham stood by one of the center tables. Black three-piece suit, silver pocket square, the sharpest frown barely hidden beneath polite disapproval. His voice was even, but his eyes… they were thunderclouds. “You’ve certainly stirred the press this time,” he said. Ryan kept his tone smooth. “We’ll handle it.” Lucia nodded once. “Good evening, sir.” He barely nodded back. “I expect nothing less than absolute clarity tonight.”