Lincoln Burrows Novels & Stories

Ichabod winked at her and then stood up, he walked further away from Tracey who laughed as he talked to himself. “Odin, I need your help.” Silence... “Odin, I mean it, please, you need to help.” Silence... “Well, I can only assume that your silence means a yes.” He said, spotting a sharp pin lying on the floor. Quickly, he picked it up. Then he turned around, “come on, let’s go.” “So what did your beast say?” Tracy asked excitedly. “Oh, he’s sleeping, I will wake him up soon.” He said, putting the pin in his pocket, “a sharp pain will do the trick.”

His eyes were red-rimmed as he answered raspily, "Two years and eleven months. That's how long I've spent looking for you, and it finally led me somewhere! Have you been alright?" I smiled. "Yes. You, however, don't seem to be." He was sporting a stubble, and his eyes were sunken. Although he was only 28, there were already streaks of gray on his head. Timothy hung his head low. His voice was filled with defeat. "I no longer had the mind to focus on work after you left. There's no unity in the company, and it'll be bankrupt soon. "I didn't believe for a second that you'd died, so I searched high and low for you. It's been two years and then some since. I only found out you were here when I s

The investigation's conclusion had been visible from the river path and from the breakfast table and from the courtyard in the evening light — visible, close, arriving. Then Marcus found the gap. "Castor Lyne has not been located," he said. It was morning. The administrative office. The specific working configuration that had become familiar over weeks — Marcus at his station, Damien across the desk, Cora with the second chair pulled to the side where she had been working since the facility had its configuration back.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Lincoln snapped at him, seriously wishing he was, “Our families are out there!” “Then be quick!” “You're out of your damned mind!” Lincoln spat, “Why now? Why here? At this time? I'm not sucking damn shit!” Ethan smirked, “Oh yeah? Don't make me force you, Pudding.” “I’d like to see you try!” Lincoln said, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. It's official… Ethan Burns is not only a psychopathic asshole but also has a screw loose!

After three days of asking around, we finally got a lead from a teenager. Tom was most likely hanging around a homeless encampment on the outskirts of the city. The place reeked of filth. Piles of scrap were scattered everywhere. Several ragged figures were curled up inside broken tents. We searched for a long time before finally finding him. When Sophia and Sebastian saw the man with a filthy face, scraggly beard, and a long knife scar across his cheek, they were completely stunned. "Y-you… are you Tom?" The man lifted his head. His cloudy eyes sized up the man and woman in front of him. Irritated, he waved them off. "You know who I am, so why the hell are you still standing there? Looking

Astor muttered, his jaw tight enough to shatter teeth. He'd paid Caruso well over the years. Hundreds of thousands of dollars to be his cleaner. His problem solver. The man who made inconvenient people disappear. And now Caruso was going to bury him. His phone rang. The ringtone he'd assigned to his lawyer. Astor grabbed it. "Lincoln." "Have you seen the news?" Barrister Lincoln's voice was strained. Panicked in a way Astor had never heard before. "Tell me you've seen the news."

Forgive me just this once! I said softly, "Now your whole family is going to prison, and the Hayes family line ends here. "How does that taste?" I laughed. As I laughed, tears fell. My mother hugged me. She sobbed until she could barely breathe. After the crowd slowly dispersed, Maya walked over to me. She punched me lightly. "You did that on purpose. You used me." I smiled and hugged her. "Yes. I did it on purpose. "Because I don't have that many connections. You have a broader network. You specialize in deep investigative reporting, and you have more experience than I do.

Whenever he had the chance, he would pull out the picture and stare at the tiny image, smiling to himself as though he could already see their baby staring back at him. Even at night, he refused to stay far from Zelda. He would sleep close to her, his hand resting gently over her stomach, sometimes rubbing it softly as if the baby could already feel his touch. "The baby could start moving any day now," the doctor had said, and Vance was determined not to miss it. While Vance floated in quiet wonder, the Jonathan household was unraveling. The daughters were seething, and their father was one word away from combustion. "Do you know how many meetings I have sat through?" Elder Jonathan paced th

“She’s just… strange.” “Strange is good for you.” Lila pops the lollipop back in her mouth. “What did she say? Did she read your palm? Offer you tea laced with moon dust?” “She asked me why I was afraid of my own softness.” That makes her pause. Even the lollipop lowers a bit. “Huh.” I shrug. “It’s not that deep.” But it is. Later, I’m alone again, standing near the ridge that overlooks the lake. I twist the engagement ring on my finger without thinking. The silver catches the last light of day, the carved words on the band barely visible: Where the moon pulls, the heart follows.

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.