Junko Furuta Concrete Novels & Stories

John Handful’s first client is a member of the local Polish community wanted by the police for the disappearance of his pregnant wife. A new miracle cancer drug is stolen from a pharmaceutical complex located on a shingle spit, just off the Suffolk coast. A wealthy local financier is blackmailed, and a ripple of malice spreads across the village of Oxmarket. Each household of a cul-de-sac have a secret that could point to them being the murderer of a man found shot dead in his bedroom.A perplexing case unfolds with the revelation of secret lovers, flowers from the garden and a death that is not as it appears.John Handful finds himself enmeshed in a violent, multi-layered plot at a luxury hotel on a remote island. A man kills himself despite receiving the good news that his lover’s husband has agreed to a divorce.A woman is witnessed shooting herself by her husband even though she had already been dead several hours.A man has been found shot through the head in a locked room with suicide well and truly ruled out. How did he die?Severed limbs in a concrete block, leads, John Handful to believe that a cold calculated killer with a thirst for revenge is on the loose. Ten cases, one connection. What is it?

My cousin, John Anderson, always paid me in tens rather than in thousands. He owned a renovation company, and my team and I always worked hard for his projects. However, he only transferred me thirty dollars for sand and concrete that were worth three thousand dollars. Besides that, he only transferred me one thousand five hundred dollars to finance customized doors and windows worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I did not harp on that. Instead, I bore the cost in full, as he was my cousin. That was until his wife, Rory Anderson, scolded me in front of all the workers. “Peter’s a bloodsucker. He never informs us whenever he buys new materials. He must have scammed a lot of money from us! I saw that he got himself a new house and a new car. I bet these are all bought with money he took from us!” John smoked next to us and sighed, “Never mind. He’s family after all.” I was furious when I heard that. I paid more than six hundred thousand dollars’ worth of material fees for him, and he was accusing me of stealing his money? The next client had a mansion and wanted natural marbles worth hundreds of thousands of dollars for his living room floor. John approved the request but only transferred me a thousand dollars to get it sorted out. So, I went to the brick factory located in the countryside and got a truckload of used red bricks from pigpens. Then, I used them for the client’s flooring.

I’d just wrapped up a short trip with my daughter, Elara. On the way back, I figured I’d swing by the Hale, our family’s casino, to check in on my son, Cassian. Maybe grab dinner together. I didn’t expect to be mistaken for his latest fling. Correction: not mistaken—accused. Violently. “You think you can just waltz in here like some queen?” she hissed. “I’m the woman Cassian loves! What kind of whore are you? And is this your bastard daughter with him?” She locked us in the basement. No phone. No light. Just concrete walls and the stench of mildew and madness. Then came the fists. She slapped me across the face—again and again—until my skin stung and my ears rang. When that didn’t satisfy her, she pulled a gun and aimed low. The bullet tore through my knee. I bit back a scream, shielding Elara with my body. “You need to die, whore,” she spat. One of her men hesitated, “We should at least tell Mr. Hale first. If we are going to kill these two in his casino.” Lila of course said no. But that man brought Cassian anyway. My son stepped into this dark little room like it was any other Tuesday—until he saw me. His whole body went still. The blood drained from his face. And then, in the smallest, most broken voice I’d ever heard from him, he whispered, “Mom? What are you doing in my basement?”

​To the world, Nathan is an ice-cold titan—a billionaire CEO who built an empire on ruthless dominance and a predator’s intuition. But beneath the charcoal weave of his tailored suits beats the heart of a beast. Behind the reinforced glass of his penthouse, he battles a primal hunger and a violent history that his public persona can barely contain. He is an Alpha without a mate—a king ruling a lonely, concrete forest. ​Then he catches her scent. Santa. A brilliant, broken university student, she is a flicker of light surviving on the fringes. She is a survivor fleeing a nightmare, her pulse thrumming with a fear that calls to Nathan’s most lethal instincts. The connection is instant—a soul-deep recognition that shatters Nathan’s control. He doesn't just want her; he recognizes her. ​When her past finally catches up to her, Nathan doesn't rely on human laws. He yields to the wolf. In an act of savage protection, he claims her, whisking her away in a meticulously orchestrated "rescue" that feels more like a kidnapping. ​Now, she is trapped in a gilded cage of silk and steel. Her every need is met by the man who watches her with glowing, possessive eyes. As the walls of the penthouse close in, she is forced to reconcile her terror with a devastating truth: the only person capable of shredding her enemies is the monster who stole her freedom. ​As the lines between protection and possession vanish, she realizes that in his quest to keep her safe, Nathan hasn't just caged her body—he has marked her soul.

Tied to a chair, it scraped against the concrete as Victor struggled. "Damn it, lady, I’ll give you this—you’ve got balls that even some men lack." he smiled, blood dripping from his mouth. Celestina pulled back the slide, the metallic click echoing in the quiet room as a bullet locked into place, ready to fire. She Pressed the gun to his head, "Are those your last words?" she asked coldly. ....................... How do you find peace when you're married to chaos itself? You don't. You become chaos. What would you do if your husband who murdered you and slaughtered your family proposed marriage again, and didn't recognize you? For Aria D'Amore, the answer is simple: marry him again, and make him pay for every drop of blood. When Aria is forced into a peace-treaty marriage with her family's enemy, she believes the war is over. Instead, Dante Vallenis uses their wedding celebration to massacre every D'Amore, making her watch before ordering her execution. She survives, barely, and "dies" in the eyes of the world. Eight years later, she returns as Celestina Vale, the mysterious Mistress of The Graveyard, an underground network that controls the Italian mafia through secrets and assassinations. When she manipulates her way into marrying Dante again, he doesn't recognize the stranger he's obsessed with controlling. But as she systematically destroys his empire from within, she falls for his uncle, the one man who tried to save her that night, and the one man who harbors a secret that could shatter everything she's built. So what will it be, love or revenge?

I first met Kai Valentine at the basketball court when I was ten years old. Kai was taller, louder, and faster than me. And from that day on, Kai became my best friend, my safe place. But then my parents passed away, and my family went bankrupt. After that, we weren't best friends anymore. We were just two strangers living in completely different worlds. Then, Kai starts "stealing" from me. He manages to steal every single girlfriend I've ever had. The day he steals my eighth girlfriend, I finally break. That's when I decide to fight back and get myself a boyfriend instead. That's right; I'm going to pretend to be gay! Let's see how he plans to steal this one. However, I never thought that my actions would make Kai go absolutely berserk. That night, Kai presses me against a dim corner in the stairwell. His fists slam into the concrete wall, his breath hot against my cheek. "If even he can be your boyfriend," he grits out, "then why can't I?" I laugh. "Are you out of your mind?" Kai just keeps pressing closer, his scorching gaze burning into me as his lips inch closer until he is just a breath away. "Do you still not get it?" Something hot and erect presses up against me. He then growls softly in my ear. "I never wanted to steal any of your girlfriends. The only person I ever wanted was you, Aiden Winston!"

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

Vanessa Brooks was the kind of woman the world bowed to. Old money. Chandeliers. Every circle worshipped her—until Julian Frost decided she was guilty. He had loved her once. Or so she believed. But when murder by jealous rage became the charge, he didn't defend her. He testified. He stood in that courtroom and watched them drag her away in chains, his eyes colder than the steel on her wrists. Three years inside. Concrete walls. Thin blankets. Fists in the dark. They broke three ribs. Split her lip so many times she forgot how to smile. The magazine-cover beauty learned to sleep with her back to the wall, one eye open. When the gates opened, Vanessa walked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart too dead for hatred. She left. She buried the name Julian Frost like a corpse. But Julian wasn't done. The moment he saw her on another man's arm—a ring that wasn't his—something inside him snapped. Cold indifference curdled into obsession. He tore her engagement apart. Dragged her back. Forced a ring onto her finger and built a prison from a marriage certificate. Vanessa endured in silence. No tears. No screams. Just divorce papers, slid across his desk, again and again. The third time, Julian ripped them in half. His voice was ragged—a king reduced to begging. "Divorce? Over my dead body."

In my past life, my marriage was ruined by a so-called “male best friend.” On our wedding anniversary, he taunted me in front of everyone. “Javier is one lucky guy. Last night I noticed Sophie’s bust has gotten even fuller. It’s so smooth and supple.” Sophie Santos completely disregarded my dignity. She laughed and said they were just close friends who even showered together. I punched him. The very next day, I handed her the divorce papers. She accused me of overreacting and forced me to kneel and apologize to him. I stormed out in anger. However, I never expected the bridge we were overseeing to suddenly collapse. It caused massive casualties. In the end, I was sent to prison for ten years. On visiting day, he actually showed up too. “Thanks a lot, Javier. You signed off on the project. So naturally you’re the one who’s going to serve time.” I glared at him with bloodshot eyes. He leaned close to the microphone. His voice was as soft as a venomous snake flickering its tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything sorted out in there… just take your time suffering.” Three months later, I was beaten to death by a prison bully on the cold concrete floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the anniversary. At that moment, my female best friend kicked the door open and straddled my crotch. “Don’t mind me, Sophie. We grew up naked together. “I know his… measurements from every stage of his life.”

"You’re worth five million dollars, Vespera. Don't make me regret not selling you to the labs." My father didn't look at me like a daughter. He looked at me like a bad investment. As a 'Dud' born into a Royal Shifter line, I was a freak, a wolf-less servant who scrubbed the floors of the packhouse while my sister prepared to lead. But when my grandmother’s heart started failing and the hospital threatened to dump her on the street, I ran out of options. I signed the paper. Ninety-nine days. One child. No names. No light. The man who bought me lives in a fortress of concrete and silence. He is a billionaire who never shows his face, a shadow that only comes to me in the dead of night. They say he’s a monster. They say he’s deformed. But when Killian finally touches me in the dark, his skin doesn't feel like a monster's. It feels like a furnace—a scorching, electric heat that makes my dormant blood scream for the first time in nineteen years. The truth is much worse than the rumors. Killian is the Lycan King—the same God my former pack kneels to every Sunday. He doesn't want an heir. He’s dying from a feral rot that’s eating his mind, and my 'useless' human blood is the only thing that stops the screaming in his head. My parents think they sold a broken girl to pay a debt. My ex-mate, Alpha Jax, thinks he rejected a nobody. But as the life inside me begins to howl, I realized that I’m not a Dud. I’m a Moon-Healer. And King Killian isn't going to let his medicine walk away when the ninety-nine days are up.