Human Cross Sans Novels & Stories

We got that height from our father. Cross is old and stooped, but at 6’3, he’s taller than almost everyone around us. His head is shaved clean, but he's kept the gray beard it seems. He stands like he owns every inch of space even when he's hiding behind other men. Cross Kryne. My chest tightens. Heat rushes up my spine immediately. I haven’t seen him in ten years, and my body remembers him anyway. It remembers the torture rooms, the restraints, and always the silence before pain.

The moonlight caught his sharp features, piercing gray eyes, dark hair slicked back, and a smile that seemed carved from equal parts charm and malice. “Still trying to control what he can’t keep,” the man added, his gaze flicking toward the ballroom doors as if he could see through them. Amara frowned, bristling at the intrusion. “Do I know you?” “No,” he said smoothly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored suit. “But I know him.” He extended a hand, though the gesture felt less like an introduction and more like a test. “Damian Cross. An old friend of Adrian’s… or enemy, depending on who you ask.”

There was no scar. ​She stared at the unblemished skin, a deep frown touching her brow. In the chaotic future she had left behind, Julian Cross was a legendary, untouchable figure—a man whose very name commanded terror in the lawless sectors. Yet, she distinctly remembered seeing a horrific, jagged, twisting scar running from his collarbone down to his shoulder blade. It looked like a wound from a violent blast, the kind of injury that should have left a man crippled, though he carried it like armor.

Adler’s came down the hall, and her usually brisk voice sounded cautious as she spoke with someone. “Mr. Blackwell,” Mrs. Adler said, appearing in the doorway, a bit flustered. “Mr. Cross is here.” He didn’t just enter the breakfast nook but also took it over. Damon Cross was tall, around six-three, with a lean, muscular build that hinted at a violent profession. He wore a plain but expensive gray suit that revealed a shoulder holster when he moved. His hair was cut short, his face marked by scars, including a thin white line through his left eyebrow. His cold, pale gray eyes currently scanning the room that included exit points, sightlines, and everything, including Sloane with the same det

“At least someone who looks like he belongs beside her.” One of his companions laughed. “Maybe he got lost on the way in.” Another added, “Looks like a hired servant.” The crowd laughed again. Sophia’s face tightened, conflicted. She didn’t speak. Ethan noticed everything. But still remained silent. Adrian stopped in front of him. “So tell me,” he said loudly, “what do you do exactly, Mr…?” “Cross,” Ethan replied calmly. A pause. Then Adrian smiled. “Cross? I don’t think I’ve heard of that brand.”

They shout for Syd, the first guy steps on the wire and there’s a moment before it goes off, Sansom blurs out the front door again with one other person following on his heels. The other two are staring at the wire, and not moving. Idiots, the faster one gets blasted in the back, and thrown forwards out of frame. The other two are splattered all over the walls, there was no recovering from that. It’s a much bigger explosion than he’d thought it would be. Sansom comes back into frame to look inside again.

I think they're following me. I looked down at the text and let out a huff of breath. Of course, the day after I'm shot, Trey has a crisis. I looked in the mirror. I looked rough. I was dressed and I looked presentable but my hair was a mess and my face was pale. I didn't have a hair tie and I couldn't find my purse but I had my phone. Thank goodness for electronic wallets because that was how I was going to make this excursion on time.

As soon as Edward saw the ring, he froze. He staggered back while staring at me. "You… How can you be this heartless?" "Mr. Miles, what I mean is that you've mistaken me for someone else. I'm not the Vanessa you're talking about. My name is Donna, and my identity here can be verified. If you keep approaching me like this or attempt anything improper… Please remember I have a license to carry a firearm." I made a two-finger gesture toward my temple. Edward quickly stepped back.

What if we cannot fix a thing? Would this be easier on you? "What if we’re too late Crossing these lines one by one? Would this be easier on you? "You think it’s over, cross your heart Blindfold your eyes and tape your mouth from the start You pray for sickness, I’ll count your scars Forget where you are. "What have we become? We’re digging in again What other wars have we won? History repeats itself They are the enemy, the enemy They’ll watch us self-destruct They are the enemy, the enemy