Lincoln At The Bardo Audiobook Novels & Stories

The room falls silent after Miller’s words. Pennet’s sister. I stare at him, trying to process what I just heard. Over sixty names. Over sixty lives. And among them was someone Pennet had loved. Someone he’d buried years ago. I feel sick. “What kind of person keeps something like that?” I whisper. Neither Miller nor Lincoln answers. Because there isn’t any right answer. No explanation. No excuse. Just pure evil. Lincoln’s arm tightens around me, pulling me closer to his side. I instinctively lean into him, drawing comfort from the warmth of his body.

"But first ... Lincoln is here." Lincoln looked uncomfortable in the way he always did when he had been summoned rather than arrived on his own terms, which was fair because we had not given him much notice or explanation. He sat across the table from us in the archive room with his jaw set and his arms crossed, waiting for someone to tell him what was going on. We told him everything. Or rather, Hector told him most of it while I watched Lincoln's face move through the information, the adoption records, Archibald, the photograph, Thorin's conclusions about the woman in the image and what she meant to both our bloodlines.

Calix did not know what to say anymore. “Calix, why do you apologize to him? She hit me!” still screaming, Lindsay was not having it. Calix had almost run out of his patience. He had never regretted taking her out as much as he had that day. He gnashed his teeth and said, “Bitch shut your damn mouth! This is Mr. Lincoln, from Lincoln Group. The richest man in this country!” “What?” Lindsay finally came back to her senses. She looked at Fredrick in disbelief as if she had seen some monster.

Horror was written all over Lincoln's face. Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind literally at the same time. His heart was pounding extremely fast that he could hardly breathe. “Lincoln, answer me,” Rahim said. “You're gay… right? And you're lovers with Miss Burns’ brother, that's right, isn't it?’ Lincoln suddenly felt too heavy for his legs, and he slumped to the floor, then clutched his chest, which was now burning with pain.

Mya answered. Adrian inhaled a deep breath, got down on his knees, and cupped Gloria’s face in his hands. He said, “Wait for me here. I’ll take you home after I’ve uncovered the secrets of this place.” He then stood up, turned around, and walked toward Lincoln. Lincoln was already dead, and he had a quick death. Adrian knew that this was his finishing point. Lincoln knew of this possible future and was mentally prepared for this before he came. It was possible that the homeward journey was the best ending for him.

“Females are not objects to be passed around.” I threw him against the nearest wall with enough force to make him grunt in pain, the echo of his thud filling the corridor. Without another glance, I marched away, leaving him crumpled on the floor. His grunts of pain were satisfying, a reminder that some lines could not be crossed. By the doorway, Lincoln waited, his posture alert but respectful. “You awake at this time?” I asked, my voice rough. “When I heard your footsteps and the female’s heat, I thought it wise to stay on guard, in case anyone else perceived it,” he said, his tone steady but careful.

My voice comes out hollow, detached, like I’m speaking about a stranger’s life instead of my own. Lincoln crouches down in front of me, his golden-brown eyes locking onto mine, forcing me to meet his gaze for the first time since we got home. I try to look away, but he won’t let me. His fingers come up, cupping my cheeks, thumbs brushing against my skin in soft, grounding strokes. His voice is steady, firm—unshakable. "Why would you ever think that?" I exhale sharply. "Ava wasn’t in the right state of mind to reveal the truth. I should have known. I should have—"

Her voice was hoarse and odor oozed from her mouth and body as she didn't take her bath, nor brush her teeth the whole of yesterday. But her breathing suddenly stopped, and her heart hammered when she heard a voice that wasn't Marks. “If am not mistaken, that is Lincoln” her lip quivered. “ What is he coming here to do? Has my time finally come to an end?” The sound of the boots grew nearer and seconds later, Lincoln and Mark came into view. Lincoln gazed at her “Take a nice bath and change into what Mark will bring for you,” Lincoln said, covering his nose. His voice was cold and was without remorse.

“Nooo! That’s different.” Good lord. Shun bit the inside of his cheek. He can imagine Lincoln’s pout at the moment. “Please.” SHUN WAS unimpressed. He originally never wanted to come here. But with Lincoln’s pleading and whines, he got here, at the bar where she worked before where they first met each other. After he said the ‘fine’ word, Lincoln was ecstatic. But the man in question is currently dead to the world. They sat at the stool in the bartender’s corner. Shun had his arms crossed, expression conflicted as he stared down at Lincoln, who was slumped against the countertop, the side of his face pressed against his left arm, and his face was facing Shun.

"Yes, that was necessary, that bad to be dealt with," I said and watched the news with our parents in anticipation of Uncle Bernard and Aunt Lily. One thing about our parents was that no matter how the discussion was very interesting, anytime they set their eyes on the news, it was as if they weren't present in the room anymore and they are completely absent from the room. We understood this, so whenever a situation like this occurred, we always knew what to do at the moment... Lincoln was in the apartment where he kept Thomas and Rosemary in the confinement room.