Graveyard Keeper Silk Novels & Stories

"The piece I told you to get from the lower vaults." The two girls exchanged a fast, sharp look. The small one wiped her chalky fingers on her skirt, leaving white streaks down the grey wool. "That vault requires a high blood clearance, Alpha Nixon. The keeper did not want to release it. He said it belongs to the old lineage." "I am the lineage," I said. My voice stayed low, but the timber of it made the window pane rattle in its frame. "Did you get it or not?" The small one reached into a leather sack between her boots. She pulled out a square box covered in black silk. The corners were worn down to the grey cardboard underneath. She held it out with both hands, her wrists shaking so hard t

Garrett had no idea how to respond to that “I want a quiet funeral Garrett, just close friends, my group friends, lot of flowers from this very garden” She said looking fondly at the beds of flowers around her “I will note that down” Garrett said “I have nothing to will out” she laughed again “I am leaving it out to those interested in it, but I want my jewelries to go to Emily, it has been in the family, I have some of your mom’s with me, I will hand it to you inside, it you can give her mine when I’m dead” Nani instructed him

She took my breath away. I only managed to break free from the spell when the stunning woman spoke. “Is he the new guy, Emmy?” Her sweet voice was like music to my ears. Though she was talking to Emmy, her eyes fixated on me. Her gaze was inquisitive, albeit more subtle than Emmy’s. It seemed Emmy and the pretty lady were acquainted. “Yes, he is. His name is Brook D’Amico. He’s highly educated and intellectually gifted.” Emmy paused and blinked before drawling.

A soft velvet cloth folded beside it with golden embroidery. I don’t touch any of it. I know how this game works. Starve me softly, then pretend it was kindness. So I leave the tray untouched, let the tea cool until it’s bitter. The petals from the last bouquet he sent have begun to rot in their vase, curling in on themselves like dying wings. I toss them one by one into the hearth, watching them turn to ash. Then I reach beneath the bed and retrieve the collar. Gold. Heavy. Elegant. A mockery. A slave’s ornament disguised as a royal accessory.

“Yes, Boss.” I grabbed my house robe off the hanger, pulled it over my body, and slipped out. The morning air outside the penthouse was cold enough to sting the back of my neck. I followed Matteo down the stairs, out past the back garden where the cameras didn’t catch good angles — exactly why Renzo’s men had left their gift there. A few of my guards were already there. One pulled back when he saw me. The black trash bag lay dumped by the stone path, tied shut, leaking dark at the edges. A smear of dried blood trailed toward the back gate.

Andros’s handwriting, the kind of generous sharp that cuts throats even when the sentence is just standing there relaxed, minding its own business. Textiles are dead, bro. Empires aren’t. Andros had a peculiar gift for saying the wrong thing so well you doubted reality. I handed Elky the note and kept the silk on my laps. It was the exact blue from those ledgers and old swatches downstairs—the color of grand history just before it drowned. I could smell ash on it, the expensive kind that thinks it’s won the argument. Elky slotted the stick into the laptop like a guy loading a chamber he’s just decided needs firing. The screen bloomed with grain and malice, of course, what else.

Dakota attempts to make a jab while he proceeds to happily ignore her, taking his personal victory. Retrieving the last item within the bag, I pull out a silver parcel. Carefully inspecting the velvet blanket folded up neatly, I unravel the charcoal silk ribbon tied meticulously around it—realising that something has been carefully tucked away inside. With grand embroidered images detailing the dated cloth, I unwrap it carefully before revealing an old leather book stored safely within. Marvelling over the light grey cover, I can’t help but study the beautifully drawn crest sat in the centre of the intricate design—carved perfectly with its lines tinted in a grand shade of crimson, appearing

she grumbles. Opening her locker, she reaches down to grab the books she took home out of her bag, the locker door slamming shut above her as a hand slams against it. She follows the large black Celtic style tattoo carved into his skin, only making out the bottom of the tattoo under his rolled up shirt sleeve. It doesn't look like a simple symbol like she has seen on a few other people, there are multiple symbols and designs within the base design, she can't get a clear enough look. "You really like checking me out, don't you?"

I manage to reply. Ro looks at the box cautiously as he has also observed the other women receiving some and then he rolled his eyes. "I guess Lady Horatia wants to mark a new generation of galas with this one." I chuckle. "I am not refusing this gift," I tell him jokingly as I pretend to pull the box away from him; he smirks and shakes his head. I untie the bow that wraps around it; is a sapphire silk fabric that is soft and delightful. The box is made of wood, but it was previously dyed in black. I slide the silk away but keep it in my hand because it is too beautiful to waste.

No interruptions, no noise, nothing just quiet. Although the woods is where Nathan was killed. I don't like to think about it, I also don't want to think of the sound of the gunshot that was fired at him. The fact that that person didn't have any remorse when they did that. It almost reminds me of my nightmares, nightmares of me killing a lot of people. Does that have anything to do with being a grey werewolf by any chance? I haven't told Ty about that nightmare. The only person that knows is Rene. It's too gruesome to talk about. I will tell him, eventually. After two hours of silence. Ty and I go to the flower shop to get flowers for Nathan's grave. I pick up roses and Ty picks up peonies.