Lincoln Burrows Novels & Stories

When we finally pulled apart, she brushed her fingers through my hair and looked at me with something between comfort and satisfaction. "Why don't I make you feel better?" she said, smiling again. "Then we can start planning a burial for your late ex-wife." Mira's smile deepened, that familiar predatory glint flashing in her eyes as she shifted on my lap. Her thighs straddled me tighter. She did not wait for permission or words. Her fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my neck. She sank her teeth into the skin there, hard and possessive, like she was marking what had always been hers.

Because if I did— And he wasn’t real— “I saw you,” I said, my voice trembling despite everything. “I saw—” My throat tightened. “I buried you.” The words hung between us. He didn’t react the way I expected. No denial. No confusion. Just… Understanding. “I know,” he said quietly. My chest tightened. “You’re dead,” I whispered. The word felt wrong even as I said it. Because he didn’t look dead. Didn’t feel like absence. He felt like—

she said as Lincoln drove out of the park and went after Nicole's car. It was a twenty minutes drive from his place to the cemetery where they were buried. When Lincoln stepped out with Rose, Nicole said their mum was buried at the far end of the cemetery but her dad was somewhere near where they stood. Lincoln nodded. There were many years in between their departure. So definitely, their graveyard can't be so close. Lincoln said they go to their mother's graveyard first. Nicole handed a flower, identical to the one she was holding to Lincoln. That was when he remembered that he was supposed to get a bouquet of flowers on his way. Thank goodness his sister bought one for him as well.

"Lina, I failed you." Meanwhile, Dad suddenly remembered the bouquet I had bought for Mom. He questioned the janitor, checked the logs, and searched through garbage trucks one by one. From sunrise to sunset, he kept looking, even getting mistaken for a scavenger and driven off three times. Finally, he found it. The lilies had long since turned yellow. They were crushed, wilted, and covered in mold—just like what had become of me. He took the flowers to Mom's grave, a place I had never been allowed to visit.

came running back, slightly out of breath. Completely unaware of the situation, he reported loudly, almost proudly, "Mr. Smith! It's done! Just like you ordered, I dumped the old lady into the septic tank behind the hill. Fast and efficient!" Hearing that, the last thread of sanity in Nash's mind snapped. "What… what have I done…" He grabbed his head with both hands, collapsing like a wounded animal, crying out in despair. Watching him like that, I felt nothing. No sympathy. No pity.

He was selfish, through and through. The next morning, I stepped out of my room carrying the urn. Mike was still kneeling on the floor. It had only been one night, but he looked like a wreck—his eyes swollen and bloodshot, his hair a tangled mess, his face pale as a ghost. When he saw me, he tried to stand, but his legs had gone numb from kneeling too long. He wobbled, then collapsed back to the ground. His gaze landed on the urn in my arms, and he knew—I was taking my mom to be laid to rest.

“Oh, wow. That’s so crazy. Gosh, my head hurts already. I don’t want to think about anything.” “It’s okay, I understand,” June nodded. “I’m sure the reason he kidnapped Luke was because he knew Luke knew everything you knew.” Elena sighed. “He’ll be fine, right?” “I’m sorry. I can’t promise you anything,” June replied, her gaze shifting from Elena. “Conor is scarier than you could ever imagine. He has no human feelings whatsoever. I mean, look at us, both tied up here without even knowing where or-” “Shh,” Elena cut June off. “I hear footsteps.”

Predators. Paintings. Sculptures. Sharp lines and darker tones. Lions mid-pounce. Wolves with their eyes locked forward. Even the smallest decorative pieces carried a sense of pursuit. I swallowed. Figures. “Guess you’re an animal guy,” I muttered to no one. I finished the last bite of my banana, tossed the peel, and headed for the stairs—only to stop halfway up, Tristain’s voice echoing in my head. Don’t touch the locked closet. My foot slowly lowered back to the floor.

I hovered at the bathroom doorway, watching Simon freeze in place. His face went from pale to ashen gray, his lips parting and pursing without making a single sound. The once unstoppable Alpha now seemed drained of every ounce of strength as he leaned against the doorframe just to stay upright. Connor's voice pulled him back to reality. "Alpha…" Simon staggered forward, one step after another, until he finally sank to his knees by the bathtub. He reached into the murky water, then drew out a fragment of white bone.

When James received the message, his heart sank. A wave of inexplicable panic and unease spread through him. He called Naomi back, but her phone was turned off. He tried sending her a message, but only a single check mark appeared. Had Naomi blocked him? Was this because he hadn't attended Celeste's birthday party? Was this the reason for her throwing a tantrum? James tugged at his tie, feeling irritated. "Mr. Hudson, Mr. Lowery from Sheridan Group is downstairs." Oliver knocked on the door and reminded him.