Lone Women A Novel Novels & Stories

Gunfire could mean someone decided Zahur was too much of a pest to let live, but it didn’t mean a damn thing about what would happen to us. “Maybe,” I said. “Why don’t you wake up everyone else?” She nodded and crept away. I pressed my ear to the door. Whatever happened next, it would be better if we were ready. Slowly, the other three women woke. I gritted my teeth. I’d been mapping the back passages for a while now, and I knew there had to be more women than us. Or a shit stain like Zahur wanted us to have the same palatial life he did and only took advantage of his live-in harem every couple of weeks. I snorted to myself. No fucking chance. But I couldn’t reach the women in the other room

But wait, isn't Lean abnormal? "Is Lean there?" Letha asked awkwardly. Her arrival this morning may not have been what the couple wanted. Every now and then Letha glanced inside Lean's lonely apartment. Behind the woman was only a long hallway that led to the living room. From where she was standing, Letha could see a black sofa there, there was a white door that was slightly open with the glow of light refracting from the gaps, and the rest Letha didn't know what was in Lean's lonely apartment. The situation in there was too quiet, creating a prejudice that was quite disturbing in Letah's mind.

Or two. And the Lycan King's castle wasn't too bad. They had great food and the softest bed ever. She could only hope Sinclair wasn't planning a rescue mission for her. It would really suck because she was starting to like the view here. Naomi flipped the page of the novel, fascinated by the characters. A story of the Moon Goddess and her mate. Naomi didn't believe in deities, never had, but she couldn't pretend she wasn't curious. Closing the book upon its completion, she stretched lithely before gracefully rolling off the bed. She headed for the door and twisted the doorknob to find it locked.

Not images. Just a sense of... weight. A pressure behind her breastbone that wasn't her own. Heavy. Contained. Lonely. Her own loneliness, sharp and bright, slid along that thread like a question. It met something thick. Unresponsive. Like a hand pushing against glass. She flinched away, wincing. The wall between them remained. "Fine," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Be locked away. Be cursed. Be... whatever they've made you. I'll— I'll figure this out alone."

She couldn’t help but wonder how many unspoken histories were buried in this family — and how many were about to surface. The castle grew taller, Rachel squealing each time the tide kissed the base. To passersby, they looked like a picture-perfect family sharing a simple joy. But under the hum of the waves, the truth pressed heavy — one man’s longing, one woman’s refusal, and a child unknowingly stitching them together in ways neither could escape. The waves had begun to calm, rolling gently as if the ocean itself wanted to listen. Francesca spread out the cooler’s contents onto the mat — fried rice, grilled chicken wings, plantain, and bottles of malt sweating in the sun.

And it had been five years of real, messy, beautiful work. She still had the notebook Grayson had given her on their wedding day. It was half filled now ink bleeding from long nights, hard truths, and the stories of women who once believed they didn’t have a choice. But today wasn’t about any of that. Today was just… her. A rare, quiet moment where she wasn’t Ava Sinclair-Wolfe: CEO, advocate, or headline. She was just a woman craving a story that didn’t belong to her. She drifted toward the poetry section the one where she once met Elena and let her fingers trail the spines.

I was the happiest woman alive, I wished to relive the night over and over and over again till eternity. If we spent the night together, it only meant he saw me as his mate, and he was also in love with me, right? That was why he could not resist the temptation because he craved for my body the same way I craved for his. I looked at the bruises on my arms, it was all worth it. But my smile faded when Lucian was nowhere to be found. I looked side to side, expecting to see him on the other side, but I was well aware from the time I had awoken that I was alone.

“I don’t blame you, but… there are plenty of online dating groups for seniors these days. What I’m suggesting is, once Farrell leaves, you shouldn’t just stay cooped up at home all the time. You should get out and socialize more.” My words were quite subtle. Jetson was a smart man. He caught on immediately. Once Farrell left, I did not even have to remind him. Every day, he would head out right after breakfast and would not return until evening. As a result, Jetson and I hardly ever crossed paths, and I gradually let down my guard around him. Something unexpected happened. Jetson actually found a partner at one of those social gatherings. The woman was called Chandler Helm. She was a widow.

And I was still the unwanted wife. I reached our shared chambers. It was a massive room, built for an Alpha and his Luna, but it felt like a gilded cage. The rain had stopped, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and tension. I needed a bath, fire, and most of all, a release from the coiled anxiety in my stomach.

In a dark corner, Lilith stood with tears in her eyes. 'Jasmine… can you see it all? The truth… has finally come to light.'